Serving the High Plains
Serving the High Plains
Psalm 51:8 - “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice.”
Whatever you think of the Harry Potter books, the author created a creepy monster called a Dementor. It was meant to be the personification of clinical depression.
Dementors are invisible, heartless, and relentless in their desire to suck all the joy and happiness out of a person. One victim said the monster’s effect was to make her feel like she’d never be cheerful again.
Live long enough and you’ll come to a place where you fear death less than you fear that your current state may go on forever. In fact, that latter fear can so twist you that you begin to welcome death. The Dementors could make this happen to you.
If this doesn’t horrify you, stick around. The world has a way. You will learn.
Our verse has David experiencing this sort of bleak existence. The guilt and weight of his sin has crushed him. Have you ever been wracked with such sustained sorrow that you would have preferred actual broken bones? That’s David.
It’s a mark of the low state of Christianity that we rarely hear of any convert to Christ having to crawl through this ink-black valley on the way to the Light of the World. We’ve made “receiving Jesus” an easy transaction.
Coming to him costs nothing and meets no real need as far as anyone can tell. So when they leave him, as multitudes do, it’s with no sense of loss. It’s like returning a gift to the store and walking out with cash.
Give me the man who hears the Gospel and thinks, “That’s too good to be true. I wish it was real. But I am too far gone for that sort of pipedream. God knows what I’ve done, and we both know what’s coming to me. I deserve it.”
That’s the sinner I want to preach to. I want the guy dying of thirst in the wilderness of his own sorrow and regret. He may not initially believe that the water I’m offering is free. He may at first consider it a foolish mirage. But when he gets the smallest hint that it’s real, he’ll reach for it in something close to panic.
The modern “convert” takes the glass of water, sniffs it, and asks, “You sure you don’t have one of those canned seltzers around here? I can pay for it.”
“No, sir. This is it. The water of life.”
He sips it and hands back the glass. “OK, so we’re done now, right? I’m not going to hell?”
Give me the man whose own sin is breaking his bones. Give me the woman whose shame has been with her so long, she’s given up on ever being cheerful again. Give me the unbeliever who would say with St. Augustine that his quest for sanity is driving him insane.
I’ve got something for you. Cool water. A bright candle. Joy and gladness. Freedom, cleansing, healing, release.
Of course, it’s not from me. I’ve tried it myself, though, and it’s real. The cross of Christ did its terrible, murderous work on him, but his grave lies empty.
Gordan Runyan is pastor of Tucumcari’s Immanuel Baptist Church and author of “Radical Moses: The Amazing Civil Freedom Built into Ancient Israel.” Contact him at: