Where You Look is Where You Go
I recently had a conversation with a colleague who explained the safest way to drive a motorcycle. “The most important thing to remember is that where you look is where you go,” he squinted off to the distance and drew an imaginary line from his nose to the horizon. “There’s this deadly thing called ‘target fixation'. When you fixate on something like a tree or the lines on the road, your body follows and the bike goes directly at it, which is a common cause of motorcycle accidents. So, if you come across an obstacle, don’t look at it. Look beyond it to find out where you’re going.”
If you are following our congregational weekly devotional, you’ll find Psalm 73 this week. Asaph, a Levite musician in King David’s courts, doesn’t hold back his emotions; he is enraged to see greedy, famous, violent people flourishing while he struggles. They mock his faith and daily push against what he knows to be true. His question isn’t “why do bad things happen to good people?”; instead, it is “why do good things happen to bad people?” In comparing his pain and deficiencies, he “almost” drives headlong into the ravine of bitterness and envy.
“But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end” (vs 16-17). In his exhaustion, he steps into the tabernacle. It is as if the reader can watch him untangle the noise in his mind and take a deep breath in the stillness. “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand” (v 23). He does not move from his place in worship or speak out among the oppressors. It is here where he is safe. It is here where his eyes connect with the abundant expanse of eternity. And as he sees the greatness and goodness of God amid His people, his bitterness dissipates and he comprehends the futility of earthly comparison. “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (v 26).
No one reading this letter is without struggle; we live in an epidemic of exhaustion by all the clamoring voices that pull our focus and threaten defeat. We may even question God’s purpose in permitting evil to flourish in light of current events. Nevertheless, whether homebound or in our midst, I pray that you join us in the sanctuary this Sunday and can echo Asaph in his wonder: “Whom have I in heaven but you? There is nothing on earth that I desire besides you” (v 25).
Photo by Meritt Thomas on Unsplash