Praise

I am so grateful to be living in this day and age when wisdom comes from so many people so much smarter than I am.  I have much to learn and I love being humbled by people whose wisdom seeps into my heart when I least expect it.  (People deliberately trying to humiliate me to make themselves feel better fail miserably.  I don't think the Lord uses them in my life.  It's the devil and their pride.)

Still reading Billy Graham's Where I Am.  His profound teaching this morning showed me how casually I sometimes read God's Word.  Yes, I have read many, many times that Jesus and the Disciples sang a hymn as they left the Last Supper.  So? Hymns are songs of praise.

Graham pointed out that Jesus went to the cross the next day!  That never dawned on me.  I've often thought about the Apostle Paul and others singing praises while in jail, being beaten, etc., but it never crossed my mind that Jesus sang a hymn when He knew what was going to happen to Him in very short order.

I mentioned it to the Pastor and he remarked that Jesus also knew the final outcome.  Hebrews said that Jesus endured the cross for the joy set before Him.  If I understand Jesus to be no more than an example to follow, His praise of God the Father before He went to the cross should teach me to praise Him in all circumstances.

If He's more to me, and He is, then it becomes more than a matter of begrudging example following. It becomes a matter of knowing God and enjoying Him forever. It is a matter of praising Him for no other reason than He is worthy of my praise, regardless of my circumstances. All that happens in my life is for God's glory and my good.

Sometimes, in our tough circumstances, when we don't feel particularly like praising, the Lord graciously sends someone to encourage when it's needed. Another thing I read this morning came from  Our Daily Bread.

"When we were going through a particularly challenging time with our son, a friend pulled me aside after a church meeting. 'I want you to know that I pray for you and your son every day," he said. Then he added: 'I feel so guilty,'"

"Why," I asked.

"'Because I've never had to deal with prodigal children,' he said. 'My kids pretty much played by the rules. But it wasn't because of anything I did or didn't do. Kids,' he shrugged, 'make their own choices."'

The author goes on to say "I wanted to hug him. His compassion was a reminder, a gift from God, communicating to me the Father's understanding for my struggle with my son."

Whether or not the Lord sends someone compassionate to encourage us or the enemy sends someone smug and proud to discourage, God is worthy of my praise. It's all for His glory and my good.