Fill Your Barn Until it Bursts

Have you ever had a day that started on a perfect foundation? It happens to me more and more often. If you get up in the morning, pray in the Spirit, take communion, pray with your understanding, and do a little Bible study, it will put a base of granite under the rest of your day.

I’m sorry to say I fail to do a good job when I get to bed late the night before. I hate the idea of abusing my body with sleep deprivation. Maybe I need to get used to the sacrifice.

This morning, I did fine. So now I feel like I’m ready for whatever comes, and I know that today’s events will work out to be a blessing.

I have some stuff that seems to be worth repeating here.

I haven’t studied scripture today, in the usual sense, but I still feel pretty good. Why? Because I’ve memorized a bunch of psalms. This morning I spent a long time going over them in my mind.

This is a tremendous blessing. It’s fine to learn a paraphrased verse or two (if you don’t screw it up or take it out of context), but there is no substitute for having the actual scripture handy. Approximations and snippets just don’t compare.

The Psalms are very powerful. They are not just idle words. The New Testament quotes them a lot; the authors knew God spoke these words directly through his servants. The Psalms contain many promises and explanations, and if you’ve memorized a psalm containing something you need, the Holy Ghost will remind you of it when the right time comes.

Let’s see. “He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.” “Blessed is he who considereth the poor . . . thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies.” “The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them.” “Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him. I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.” How many do you want? The supply is huge. I only know something like 20 psalms, and I never run out of material.

I actually had to correct two of those after I typed it, but I got the essence right.

Today I was thinking of my needs and picking out psalm verses to “remind” God of his promises. It seems pretty clear that he expects us to do this. It’s for our own good. He knows our needs, and he knows his promises, but he wants us to know his word and use it.

While I searched my mind for material that would help my prayers, I realized I felt as though I were walking in a garden, picking fruit from trees. Every psalm is like a tree, and every helpful verse is like a fruit you can feed on. Isn’t that strange?

For a long time, I’ve believed that we are supposed to live like Adam. He made his living by managing the earth and serving God. It wasn’t a struggle; the toil and frustration came after the curse. When Adam had a need, he didn’t fill it by his own might, which would have led to pride. He took it from a tree God had planted for him. His living was a birthright; an inheritance. It wasn’t something be built up by burning the midnight oil and straining his back.

Psalm 127 says, “It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows, for so he giveth his beloved sleep.” In The Complete Jewish Bible, it says he gives believers good things while they sleep. Life isn’t supposed to be perfect. We face persecutions. But where does it say we’re supposed to be slaves who live in penury and defeat?

Scripture, including the Psalms, is an inheritance. We receive it as welfare recipients receive their checks. We did nothing to deserve it. Like the trees of Eden, it was provided for us before we were born. If you don’t learn at least some of the Bible by heart, you’re throwing away a fortune. You didn’t have to plant the trees. The least you can do is harvest the fruit and store it.

Wow, I feel like an ingrate now. But I am an ingrate. It’s impossible to fully appreciate what has been done for us.

Isn’t that the usual curse, for an heir?

I had some other thoughts this morning, which, I believe, came from God. Here’s one: preachers often describe us as though we were battlefields, where we fight Satan and the flesh for control. I don’t think that’s quite right. I think we begin as battlefields and end as fortresses, or “strongholds.”

Think about it. Before you accept Jesus and get filled with the Spirit and clean up your life, you have no walls. Any spirit can enter and raise Cain. People can defeat you. Diseases can have their way with you. All sorts of misfortune came come your way, and you won’t have the weaponry to deal with it.

Afterward, there is a battle. There is a process during which you fast and pray and give and do good works and study, and the spirits start leaving, because you defeat them. Your habits and inclinations improve. Your thought life gets purified. You sin less. Your prayers get answered. Curses end. Blessings come. Your walls rise up to protect you. You begin as an open battlefield, but you finish as a protected, heavily armed enclosure. Maybe it isn’t completely clean, but instead of sewer rats breeding in your pantry and sleeping on your couch, you have timid ants hiding in crevices. Ants are better than rats.

When I thought of this, I thought of monks. Back in Europe, they used to build walls around their monasteries. What did they do once the walls were up? They grew things. They studied. They wrote. They created music. I’m not endorsing a monastic lifestyle. I’m just pointing out one characteristic of strongholds. They often contain gardens. In fact, Eden probably had walls. When man was exiled from Eden, God protected it with cherubs stationed at the east. If it had no walls, they would have been all around Eden. There must have been a gate at the eastern side, and “gate” implies “wall.”

The stronghold concept is fascinating. Temple, fortress, “walled city,” whatever you want to call it; a stronghold is a good thing to make of yourself. And if you pull it off (by God’s power), your children are likely to pull it off, too. Describing the children of a God-fearing man, Psalm 127 uses the term “arrows” and says, “They shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.” They will speak–presumably prayer and God’s word–to keep enemies out of their strongholds. A flashing sword guarded the path to the Tree of Life after the fall; the sword of the Spirit guards the path into our hearts. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

A funny thing has happened to me lately. Increasingly, when I find myself thinking thoughts I know I shouldn’t think, I see a door in my mind. A steel door. It’s just a plate, like the brown steel plates you see over holes in roadways. The wall around it is green, like the green of a pool table, only darker and with less blue in it. I see that door, and my thoughts change direction. That’s a good thing, because I know that when I open the wrong door to go out, while the door is open, someone else can come in. And that being won’t be a good guest.

If you like hearing the promises of the Bible, you might consider buying some of Wayne Cochran’s CDs. They’re really neat. He recites Biblical promises, over soothing music. He has divided them by category. Some are about protection. Some are about overcoming fear. You might have concerns about the “Word of Faith” flavor of this material, but my guess is that it can’t harm you if you take it the right way. Something to think about.

One of the reasons I loved The Book of Eli is that it encourages people to memorize scripture. I can’t explain that without spoiling the movie, but I can say that there are scenes that show how a knowledgeable believer can have his access to printed scripture taken away, without missing a beat. Some day Bibles will probably be outlawed. It has already been done in some places. They can take it out of your carry-on, but they can’t take it out of your heart.

Right now, Robert Morris is challenging people to spend 40 days memorizing and meditating on a scripture. Got a notice in the mail this week. Funny coincidence.

Set your feet upon a rock, and let God establish your goings. That’s my advice.