July 31, 2022: Heart & Soul: Anticipation
Heart & Soul: Anticipation
Psalm 27
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
When evildoers assail me
to devour my flesh—
my adversaries and foes—
they shall stumble and fall.
Though an army encamp against me,
my heart shall not fear;
though war rise up against me,
yet I will be confident.
One thing I asked of the Lord;
this I seek:
to live in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the Lord,
and to inquire in his temple.
For he will hide me in his shelter
in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
he will set me high on a rock.
Now my head is lifted up
above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.
Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud;
be gracious to me and answer me!
“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”
Your face, Lord, do I seek.
Do not hide your face from me.
Do not turn your servant away in anger,
you who have been my help.
Do not cast me off; do not forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
If my father and mother forsake me,
the Lord will take me up.
Teach me your way, O Lord,
and lead me on a level path
because of my enemies.
Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries,
for false witnesses have risen against me,
and they are breathing out violence.
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!
______
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. More specifically, let’s talk about the elephants in the room, inside each of us.
Jonathan Haidt, a psychologist at NYU, offers a wonderful metaphor about how our brains work. He suggests that inside each of us, we have a rider and an elephant. The rider represents our rational system—the part of our brain that plans and problem solves and analyzes. The elephant represents our emotional system—the part of our brain that reacts. When the elephant and the rider are working together, it’s wonderful. But if there was ever a disagreement, would you place your money on the rider or the elephant? The elephant has a six-ton advantage! The rider may analyze the situation and decide, “I want to go this way,” but if the elephant doesn’t agree, the rider may try to push the elephant, the rider may try to pull the elephant, but if the elephant disagrees, the rider’s efforts at pushing and pulling the six-ton beast will prove fruitless.
This is why making meaningful change in our lives can be so challenging. Unless the rational self and the emotional self are in alignment, trying to change our behavior can be a frustrating endeavor. The Apostle Paul articulated this frustration in his letter to the church at Rome in Romans 7:15 (Amplified Bible): “For I do not understand my own actions [I am baffled and bewildered by them]. I do not practice what I want to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate [and yielding to my human nature].”
Paul may have been baffled and bewildered, but we’re not!
Over the past few weeks, we’ve acknowledged the elephants in the room; we’ve explored our human emotions through our study of several psalms during this series I’ve called “Heart & Soul.” We’ve explored fear, surprise, anger, joy, sadness, trust, disgust—emotions articulated in various psalms. Today we consider an emotion called “anticipation.”
Anticipation is an emotion involving pleasure or anxiety in considering or awaiting an expected event. Expectation is key. The opposite of anticipation is surprise when something unexpected happens. Anticipation can be positive or negative. We call positive anticipation “hope”—we hope something good happens. Negative anticipation is “dread”—we dread the idea of something bad happening. Both positive and negative anticipation takes us into the future and takes us away from the present.
Here’s the kicker: the future isn’t real. When our minds are in the future, we’re simply in a story of our own creation. The same is true of the past—whenever our minds are in the past, we’re inside a narrative. The only reality is right now. This. Very. Moment. It is important to practice present-moment awareness. I love how Mother Teresa put it: “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
In this one line, Mother Teresa captured the idea of present-moment awareness coupled with hopeful anticipation. “Let us begin,” she concluded. Begin what? Begin working toward a hopeful future.
It was a hopeful future King David had in mind when he wrote Psalm 27. “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” What a beautiful refrain! The “land of the living” means here and now, not some far off future realm of glory, not heaven. No, David was convinced he would experience God’s goodness here on planet earth.
There is a tendency within the church, and within certain strains of Christianity in particular, they’re so focused on heaven that they’re not much earthly good. Not to take away any hopeful anticipation about our future in glory—but our faith calls us to remember God’s presence here and now. David concluded: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” Do you believe, like David, that you will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living?
This doesn’t mean that you have to put your head in the sand and pretend everything is hunky dory. It doesn’t require some Pollyanna approach to live that ignores the realities of the day’s challenges.
David knew all kinds of trouble when he wrote Psalm 27. Let’s remember for just a moment what David acknowledged about the world he inhabited and that he named in this very Psalm: evildoers, adversaries, armies, war, enemies, false witnesses, violence. This was no Pollyanna, head-in-the-sand hope. David shows us what it is to hope in the middle of terrifying circumstances. “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” David’s hope was an act of resistance!
Viktor Frankl was a neurologist and psychiatrist living in Nazi Germany during World War II. He and his family were rounded up and sent to concentration camps, where everyone in his family died: his father, his mother, his brother, his wife. Frankl survived the holocaust and its unfathomable atrocities as a prisoner at both Dachau and Auschwitz. He would go on to write Man’s Search for Meaning, which included some of his observations of people in suffering. He noticed that those who maintained hope—those who could anticipate a better day—had greater chance of surviving the camps. Those who fell into despair had less resolve and fewer inner resources to survive. In Frankl’s observations, hope was at once an act of resistance and a survival tool. Those who made hopeful plans for life after the concentration camp had a greater chance of survival.
Back to King David and Psalm 27. The reality of his situation: evildoers, adversaries, armies, war, enemies, false witnesses, violence. David doesn’t ignore the reality of what’s happening. Things are not good. David has myriad reasons to feel afraid, but he makes a different choice.
We don’t often consider that we have some agency over our emotions, that our inner “elephant” can be trained.
Here’s a hack for training our elephant. I recently heard someone describe their “50’s diner” approach to choosing how to feel. Let’s say you’re leaving church today and you get to the roundabout (it’s always the roundabout!) and someone cuts you off, almost causing an accident. Your instant emotional response? (Hint: it’s not anger which usually follows a primary emotion). It’s fear. Physiologically, you might notice a rush of adrenaline. You react; you hit your brakes to avoid collision (considering fight, flight, freeze or fawn—this is the freeze response). The other driver, oblivious drives off and you continue your journey. Did you have a choice to feel fear when the other driver almost crashed into you? No. Fear was an automatic response, like animal instinct, prompting your “freeze” response which might have saved your life.
Your choice in the matter is what happens next. The person describing this said he likes to imagine himself in a “50’s diner” and a waitress approaches and says, “Would you like a side of unhelpful anger with that fear?” At that point, he decides, “No thank you, I would not like a side of unhelpful anger,” and lets go of the situation now firmly in the rearview mirror.
We have some choice, some agency, over our emotions. We might not be able to push the six-ton elephant inside us. We might not be able to pull the six-ton elephant inside us. But we can entice the elephant. We can put something in front of the elephant to make our elephant want to join our rider. “Would you like a side of unhelpful anger with that fear? Or would you prefer a side of peace and calm.” “I’ll take the peace and calm, thank you.”
King David’s situation was like driving the roundabout 40 times a day every day. Even worse! While David’s poem, Psalm 27, was written in the midst of many challenges, the poem reflects David’s intentional choice not to ignore the situation, but a determined perseverance and decision to remain hopeful. “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
Here’s the takeaway from Psalm 27: David had HOPE.
· Honest. David was honest about the situation. Evildoers. Armies. Wars. Violence.
· Options. David considered his emotional options. “Whom shall I fear?” he asked. “With shouts of joy I will sing,” he exclaimed.
· Pathway. David chose a path. “Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path.”
· Envision. David envisioned a better day. “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
H.O.P.E. “Hope does not disappoint.” (Romans 5:5)
Every week during this 8-week series I’ve given homework . . . something to work on that relates to the message. Today I’m not giving “homework” but “hopework.” This “hopework” is the culmination of the series, tying together some of what we’ve learned throughout. We’re going to complete this “hopework” now; your homework, should you choose to go a little further/deeper, would be to write this “hopework” down when you get home.
“Hopework”
In an attitude of prayer, think about a situation in your life that you’d like to change. Choose something you have some agency to change. It could be something small and personal, like “I’d like to be better at remembering birthdays.” It could be something big and global, like “I’d like to have a more peaceful world.”
1. Honest. Now, do an honest assessment about the situation. Using our two examples, it could be, “My friends and loved ones may feel hurt that I don’t remember their birthday.” Or, “There are ways that my actions don’t contribute to a peaceful world.”
2. Options. Explore your emotional options. “I feel sad that my family and friends are hurt. I would feel happy knowing I brought them joy on their birthday.” Or, “I feel guilt when my temper flares. I feel more peace when I am less reactive.”
3. Pathway. Determine a goal and the steps toward achieving that goal. “I will put birthdays in my calendar and send out cards on the first of every month.” “When I feel angry, I will count to ten before reacting.”
4. Envision. What will it look like one year from now if you follow that path toward your goal? Describe the hoped-for outcome.
What if we did this “hopework”? What would it look like if we could risk what God is calling us to do?
I hope you’ve enjoyed this “Heart & Soul” series; I hope you’ve learned some things about yourself, your emotions, and how our emotions connect into our life of faith. I conclude this series with a bless from Romans 15:13:
“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,
that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”