Isaac’s life was not easy. Growing up, he was the son of a sojourner and a constant stranger. I don’t think he liked the sojourner’s life because the Bible records that when he grew up he settled himself in Beer-lahai-roi. But that wasn’t to be – a famine drove him away from his home. Famines are massively stressful events. When we read about this famine, it unfolds over just one verse, but for Issac it represented weeks, perhaps months of dwindling supplies and dwindling hope for rain and harvest. As circumstances grew more and more bleak, he was forced to uproot his household. Such a circumstance is not easy to endure.

When Isaac came to the place where he could survive the famine he had such fear of the people that he lied about his wife, as his father had, and called her his sister. This ultimately gets him in big trouble with the King – who in the end showed Issac mercy.

Isaac prospered so much while in this foreign land that the people got jealous and begin sabotaging his property by filling his wells with earth. Thus begins a long string of contentions over Isaac’s wells. Interestingly Isaac doesn’t fight for his wells, instead he just keeps moving on from one place to another, digging new wells each time. Again, these events unfold for us in just a few verses – but digging a well is no small effort. And with each new well he dug, the people would contend with him over it or stop it up with earth. Finally, Isaac caught a break and dugs a well that nobody contended for and he could finally settle in Rehoboth.

Just as he is beginning to enjoy his wealth in peace, King Abimelech showed up. I imagine Isaac, upon seeing the King and his entourage approaching, must have thought, “Here we go again – they’re going to fight me over this well too. Might as well pull up the tent pegs now and look for another place to dwell and dig yet another well!” Of course, as it turns out, the King only wanted to acknowledge the Lord’s blessing on Isaac and make oaths of peace with him. But Isaac’s own words of greeting betray the self-pity in his heart. “Why have you come to me since you hate me, and have sent me away from you?” I can just hear the self-pity theme song playing in the background…

“Nobody likes me,
Everybody hates me,
Might as well go eat worms.”

Isaac was greatly blessed, and the King was on his way to bless him even more, but Isaac’s self-pity only saw the downside. Self-pity is like that. It blinds us to all the abundant blessings given to us every day, narrowing our vision so we only see the struggles and difficulties of life. And there are plenty of difficulties for self-pity to lay hold of. Isaac’s trials were hard and real and discouraging. Yet we can see – since we get to read the breadth of his life story over a few short chapters – that his overarching experience was one of tremendous blessing.

Contending for faith in the face of discouragement is an ongoing battle for us all. But self-pity is no ally in this fight. It is a liar and it keeps us from seeing the sovereign hand of God moving all circumstances for us for our good. Self-pity is a thief and it robs our view of the glorious purposes and plans of God in every encounter we face throughout our lives. If we can kill self-pity we will have a more level battlefield in our war of faith against unbelief. Every stopped up well becomes an opportunity to let God lead us to the place of a greater blessing, not an occasion to grumble and complain and hum the self-pity tune.

Save me O God from murmuring or grumbling thereby giving self-pity the upper hand. Keep my eyes on Jesus that I may see and acknowledge your abundant blessing and overwhelming grace. You are so good, and even the trials you allow lead to me into your greater blessing. Praise you Lord. Amen.

Paul endured all things, and he was enduring suffering in prison as he wrote 2 Timothy. Paul deliberately chose paths of difficulty and hardship; he was well-content with suffering because by them the chosen could obtain salvation. Certainly, Paul understood the nature of God’s sovereignty, his unconditional election, and the unchangeable state of God-wrought regeneration in the hearts of His chosen ones. So why wouldn’t Paul say something more like “I relax and rest knowing that the chosen will inevitably end up in eternal glory with Christ?” How is it that the chosen may obtain salvation in such a way that Paul’s enduring hardship had something to do with it? How is it, that Paul’s ability, willingness, and endurance were encouraged, helped and motivated by his view that its effects would result in the salvation of the chosen?

Clearly, Paul’s understanding of election is quite different from my notions of it, and the implications I bring to it with my 21st century mind. That God’s pre-determination of all things does not remove true requirements and conditions put upon those who are pre-determined is thoroughly biblical. Perhaps Paul’s previous short illustration of athletes that only win if they compete according to the rules, a few verses before this one, explains something of this spiritual dynamic. Runners must run to win. Not only that, but they must train, practice, push themselves, and suffer pain to win a race. If a runner knew with certainty, by direct revelation from God, that he would be the winner of the race, he could not, based on that knowledge, stop training or allow himself to get out of shape before the race. He would still have to run, train, work out, and compete according to the rules.

God has set rules that govern our salvation and our entrance into it (such as “through much tribulation,” in Acts 14:22). Paul knew that his suffering was part of the race set before him. His suffering was designed into the rules of the game such that by them he would “fill up what was lacking with regard to Christ’s afflictions,” Col 1:24.

Therefore even though Paul knew better than anyone that God would invariably glorify every single one that he had chosen, with out a single exception, and that He would do it by grace alone, through faith in Christ alone; he also knew that the way this would be played out would be, in part, through Paul’s own endurance of suffering. Paul was not passive, but entirely active, earnest, and resolute in all his spiritual activity; in order that all God that had pre-determined, would take place. Not just that the ultimate outcome would take place – but that the outcome would take place and that it would take place according to the “rules,” or according to the means that God had ordained and determined. These means (of grace) are by no means static, automatic or mechanical. They include and depend upon real action, effort and use of them on my part. Paul knew very well that, all that he was, and all that he did, was by grace and through grace, to the glory of Christ (2 Corinthians 10:13).

I have been pondering this subject – the non-mechanical use of the means of grace – for some time now. I have become convinced that in my life, the degree to which I understand this doctrine, and practice my religion accordingly, I live by a vigorous and engaged involvement with God. Conversely, the more I fall back into a sense of automation or passivity – or in other words, the more that I view my spiritual/eternal condition as detached from how I live today, the more I become discouraged, despondent and fatigued.

Despondency, or self-pity, is a mortal enemy of mine. I hate it, but my flesh likes the taste of its bitter fruit. When I suffer, for example with chronic back pain, I can choose to either live according to the flesh and eat self-pity to my destruction (forgive me Lord for how often I eat it), or I can remind myself that as I endure all things (including an aching back), that I do so somehow not just for my sake but also for the sake of the chosen. Somehow in God’s rules, he can take my endurance of pain and put it to work so that not only will I enter salvation through perseverance, but that his people also may obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus and with it, eternal glory. My suffering – and more importantly my enduring with faith really matters! It is part of God’s pre-determined rules for my race and that somehow by running it with endurance I will receive a reward, and the saints may also enter eternal glory. Such a view of the non-mechanical means of grace – governed completely and sovereignty by God – yet that genuinely require my choices and actions – invigorates, motivates and enables my endurance. They really matter. They really are effective. They go to work in me and have an effect on others – according to God’s rules and God’s grace. This kind of living puts a knife in the heart of self-pity. Living this way can turn weakness into communion with God, instead of a pity-party.

O Lord, please have mercy on me and forgive my sin. Too often I forget that your grace is sufficient for me. O, that my flesh actually likes the tastes of self pity’s bitter fruit is a horrible reality. Strengthen my hands for battle against this enemy and cause me use all the means you’ve ordained – especially that I would delight myself with the sweet fruit of communion with you. Remind me Lord, every day, that my afflictions are ordained – they are rules set by you for me to endure and that how endure them matters. Thank you that you require me to engage my will to run, and more importantly that you give me the strength, by your grace, to run. Praise you Lord Jesus. Amen.

Psalms 142:6

David’s spirit was overwhelmed and had fainted within him. His emotional stress was unavoidable since his life was threatened by enemies who sought to kill him, and they had the upper hand. David’s emotions did not run opposite to his circumstances. As a result he was troubled, he complained, and felt trapped. He felt weak and imprisoned. David’s piety however is that in such a low state he sought the Lord. He did not just cry; he cried to the Lord. He did not just pour out complaint; he poured out his complaint to the Lord. He did not just declare his troubles; he declared his troubles before the Lord.

Being overwhelmed was not just a result his external circumstances, his circumstances pressed him, but the fainting of his inner spirit in the circumstances caused him even more distress. His emotions were sapped, his joy had dried up. The piety of David though, is seen in where he directed his distress, or rather to whom it was directed. David’s feelings of being trapped resulted from the reality that he was in fact trapped in a cave. All the distress associated with such circumstances, caused his spirit to be brought low.

While in such a spiritually depressed state David does not pen Psalm 27. In Psalm 27 David declared God’s salvation and in it he deeply rejoices in God’s beauty. No, while in the cave he writes Psalm 142 where he pours out his complaint. But there is a connection between the two Psalms. In Psalm 27 David was looking back on having been delivered, and looking back he deeply rejoices in God’s faithfulness. God’s faithfulness to him in that time of trouble established his confidence that God was in total control, and that He would deliver him in this current trouble. David was trained to seek the Lord by such trials. By such refining he came to expect a true deep satisfying joy in the Lord would invariably follow such times.

Therefore in Psalm 142, when David finds himself yet again in trouble, even though his spirit faints, he is trained to lift up his head. He may have been “in prison,” physically trapped in a cave, and of course emotionally distressed, but rather than grumbling in darkness he sticks his head out between the bars to glimpse the light just outside his cell; he cries out to the Lord. His feelings of despondency are real, but they do not keep him from seeking the Lord! Such downcast moments only deepen his cry for the Lord. They remind him that the Lord is his true refuge and his portion forever.

David’s piety is also seen in how he acknowledges is that God was totally in control of his circumstances and in control of the condition of his spirit, “when my spirit was overwhelmed within me thou didst know my path.” David does not dismiss God from the circumstances or from his current emotional state. Instead he appeals to God to rescue, deliver, and restore him both circumstantially and emotionally. David knows that a genuine and deeply satisfying thanksgiving to God will soon follow, because he trusts that God will deal bountifully with him. However, David does not “jump the gun.” He does not break into a jubilant exaltation yet, for he is still trapped, and his spirit is still in a state of tears. It may be harmful for us to speak peace to our own hearts before God speaks peace.

John Owen in “The Mortification of Sin” Wrote:

“In case God disquiet the heart about the guilt of its distempers, either in respect of its root and indwelling, or in respect of any eruptions of it, take heed thou speakest not peace to thyself before God speaks it; but hearken what he says to thy soul… This is a business of great importance. It is a sad thing for a man to deceive his own soul herein. All the warnings God gives us, in tenderness to our souls, to try and examine ourselves, do tend to the preventing of this great evil of speaking peace groundlessly to ourselves; which is upon the issue to bless ourselves, in an opposition to God… it is the great prerogative and sovereignty of God to give grace to whom he pleases (“He hath mercy on whom he will,” Rom. 9:18; and among all the sons of men, he calls whom he will, and sanctifies whom he will), so among those so called and justified, and whom he will save, he yet reserves this privilege to himself, to speak peace to whom he pleaseth, and in what degree he pleaseth, even amongst them on whom he hath bestowed grace.”

I think remaining God-centered and continuing to cry out to God while in such low states – truly anticipating by faith the joy and thanksgiving to come, is better than trying to twist my emotions against their actual current condition and thereby praise from false spirit. Rather, I should not cease to praise – for God is always worthy of it, but in such times my praise should be like David’s here in Psalm 142. Truthful, honest about my complaints, always directed to God, always working to strengthen my soul’s satisfaction in Him alone, always clinging to hope that God will deliver, and truly anticipating the joy to come and the peace that will come when I can bring true, deep, soul drenched thanksgiving to Him.

God will deliver, and joy and thanksgiving will flow. My praise will reach its culmination having been anticipated with tears, it will be rich, full, and genuine. God wants my praise, and I want to give Him my best, fullest, and most genuine praise. Often God needs to squeeze it out, and I’m happy to be squeezed if it will produce the true oil of joy and gladness in Him.

Thank you, Jesus, for directing my path. Thank you that you work everything out, even distresses, to deliver me from the world and set my joy in you. Help me Lord to take heed to my spirit, knowing its true condition that I might seek you deeply and fully, and praise you deeply from the heart. I love you and need you. In your name. Amen.

Jesus upon hearing of John’s death was saddened. He felt so sad that he had to get away by himself and be alone. Who knows what he felt, and how he prayed while on the boat. Certainly, his own fast-approaching death must have weighed heavily on his heart. His emotions were apparently so strong he had to withdraw for a time. Yet, what takes place next shows that rather than his sorrow leading to self-pity, it led to compassion. I have such a hard time understanding how sorrow can exist without self-pity. Praise God that Jesus is perfect and was able to experience sorrow without sin or self-pity!

When Jesus returns to shore he is not irritated, annoyed, or angry that the multitudes clamored after him. Had self-pity been resident in his heart, like it would be in mine, his response would have been resentment rather than compassion. Instead His response to the needy multitude was compassion. This is astounding to me. Here at a low point emotionally, with massive neediness foisted upon Him, He responded with heartfelt compassion! What a man! How merciful, loving, and strong is my Lord Jesus!

Could it be that sorrow, when filtered and comforted by the grace of God, is among the chief means by which God produces true compassion in the heart of his saints? 2 Corinthians 6:10 says that Paul was and his companions were “sorrowful yet always rejoicing.” I must confess that I have not very often had this experience. For me lack of pain equals more rejoicing and felt sorrow equals despondency. Not so for Jesus, and perhaps, if by grace He changes my heart, not so for me.

O Lord, please change my heart. I don’t want to be morose, yet I do want to feel the way I ought to feel with regard to sorrow, yet always be rejoicing in you. Perhaps, that I might be a vessel through which the God of all comfort can strengthen the faith of his saints that they might rejoice more deeply in the glory of God, and in the excellence of Jesus Christ. Amen.