Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The outlook was terrifying. Appalling. Horrifying. It literally stopped him in his tracks, raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, sent chills ricocheting down his spine, and tightened the fingers of panic clawing at his throat. He’d seen them almost immediately. Their presence was so obvious it would have been impossible to miss. They were brazen. Fearless. Clearly on a mission. His stomach sank. His heart raced. His eyes told him the house was surrounded. Soldiers, horses, and chariots had lined up on every side, a determined, reckoning force. The king of Aram’s wrath would soon be assuaged. Both servant and master were surely going to die. They had no defense. No guard. No army. No weapons. They were alone. Sitting ducks on a deceptively placid pond, hunted by skilled marksmen, destined for death.  

Spinning on his heel, the servant rushed back indoors urgently calling for Elisha. Surely the prophet of God who had known every move the king of Aram made before he made it would have some special insight now. Surely God would protect him the way he had used his foreknowledge to protect the king of Israel. Surely this wasn’t how it all ended. Elisha’s predecessor, Elijah, had been taken up to Heaven in a chariot of fire. Surely Elisha deserved something more than death at the hands of an angry king. And surely, after all his service, the man who served him deserved a less torturous death than being struck through by a sword, beheaded, or torn limb from limb. 

Appearing in answer to his servant’s desperate cry, Elisha responded with the peace and calm of one whose gaze is constantly trained above rather than on the things of earth. There was no need to fear. They weren’t actually alone. His servant simply needed to look up. Elisha prayed for such a moment. An immediate opening of his servant’s eyes, an elevation of his gaze, a window through which he could see what Elisha saw. And God answered. Lifting the chin of Elisha’s servant, He trained his eyes on the encircling hillside.The army surrounding them was also surrounded. By God’s army. Horses pulling chariots of fire. Nothing was getting past God’s army to harm His people. The servant would have known it from the beginning. If only he’d been looking up. (II Kings 6:15-17) 

King Saul’s army found themselves in similar circumstances. The outlook from their encampment in the Valley of Elah was petrifying. The roar of the giant seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet. Twice a day the enormous ogre came lumbering out to offer his arrogant challenge. The sight alone made them hide in terror. Nine feet tall. Thighs the size of full-grown tree trunks. Arms resembling the thickest branches. His spear appeared to weigh a hundred pounds, yet he lifted it as though it were a child’s toy. His face, what you could see around the wildly ill-kempt beard, was pockmarked and scarred. His laugh was raucous and evil. His venomous words coupled with his astounding size struck abject horror in even the strongest warrior’s heart. Instead of lining up in battle array and going out to fight, they milled about in quickly erected campsites discussing the options, raising suggestions, and casting ideas aside. 

David found them like that. Worriedly whispering in small groups. Discussing what would happen to themselves, their families, their people as a whole, if they couldn’t find a way to dispatch this giant. Young David was appalled by their cowardice. He’d expected better. Of soldiers in general, but most certainly of his brothers stationed among them. Why weren’t they doing anything? Why were they all frozen in fear, staring at Goliath, listening to his mocking diatribe, and shaking in their shoes? Why didn’t someone stop him? Shut him up. Permanently. Stop listening. Stop giving him space in their heads. Stop worrying about the outcome. Why didn’t they stop staring at the giant, look up, and focus on God instead?

It would have been impossible for him to simply deliver his parcel and head for home. He had experience fighting off daunting creatures larger and stronger than himself. He wasn’t just a silly shepherd boy. He was a warrior in his own right. With his own bare hands and the power of his God, David had dispatched both a lion and a bear when they had unwisely attempted to attack his flock. This situation was really no different. These people, his people, were God’s people. God’s sheep. God’s flock. That giant roaring in their faces was really just another lion marking his territory, another bear looking for a little lunch. But David knew, from previous experience, that the God who had given him strength to dispatch the enemies of his flock then, absolutely held the power to delete the enemy of His own flock now. But they had to get their eyes off the giant in front of them, the army facing them, and look up to the God who could rescue them. (Psalm 100:3; Exodus 6:7)

Only God could deliver them. David knew that. He knew all human strength would be useless against that giant. David also knew his God. Knew His power. Understood His might. Recognized His sovereignty over all things. Impossible giants included. Nothing was too difficult for God. He boldly said as much to King Saul. Volunteered his services. Listed his accomplishments. Gave credit to His God. Israel’s God. The God they could trust to deliver them. If they would just look up. (Jeremiah 32:17; Psalm 103:19)

Desperate times require desperate measures. Against his better judgment, Saul gave David his blessing to go into battle. It worried the king. The boy wasn’t an acknowledged soldier, was too small for any available armor, had only a handful of stones and a homemade slingshot for weapons. It was possible his stories of defeating a lion and bear with his hands were all figments of an imagination made overactive by too much time alone with sheep. But the kid was the only one who seemed unfazed by the massive man, the hurtling insults, the ridiculously large spear. David was the only one whose eyes were fixed on things above rather than things on the earth. He was the only one brave enough to trust God when things on earth were decidedly dicey. 

We all know how the story ends. David verbally spars with the giant. Points to the God of Heaven on Whom he has fixed his hope, and slings a rock right between Goliath’s eyeballs. Pressed by the hand of God, that one stone sinks through skin and flesh and bone, dropping the giant of Gath to the ground, defeated in death. Seeing their greatest warrior dead, the rest of the Philistines turned tail and ran. The Israelite army gave chase, leaving a trail of slain enemies and a plundered enemy camp in their wake. We tend to remember the awful giant, the kid swimming in someone else’s armor, the five stones, and the handcrafted slingshot. We talk about the soldier’s fear, Saul’s doubt, and David’s faith. We sigh and wish for faith so great. But to have faith like the shepherd boy, we have to choose to do what David did. Just look up. (I Samuel 17:1-33)  

Excitedly flipping his leg over the side of their boat, Peter pivoted on his seat, pulled his other leg over and slid down to stand on the water. It held. Amazingly. Locking his eyes on Jesus’ face, he carefully stepped toward Him. One step. Two. Then three. He’d nearly forgotten about the boat, the water, the waves, and the impossibility of what he was doing when a gust of wind whipped his robe around his ankles. Glancing down, the reality of his surroundings flooded back into his brain. Terrified by the elements, Peter’s fear capsized his faith. Water crept up his ankles. He started to sink. Was forced to cry out to Jesus for a rescue. I wonder how long Peter would have walked on water if he’d just kept looking up. (Matthew 14:28-30)

Seated on the unforgiving floor of a prison cell, backs cut and bleeding from an undeserved beating, feet uncomfortably locked in stocks, Paul and Silas gazed at one another in silence. The outlook was decidedly dim. It would be so easy to focus on their discomfort, the mildewed stone of the prison walls, the insane cries of another prisoner, the clank of chains, the clunk of the lock turning in the door. It was tempting. But it wasn’t for them. They weren’t men of this world. They were men of Heaven. God’s men. His people. The sheep of His pasture. Their eyes weren’t fixed on things of the earth, they were steadfastly set on things above. In spite of their disgusting circumstances, the disconcerting noise around them, the discouraging turn their mission trip had taken, their focus wasn’t on those things. It was on God. They were busy looking up.  

Their voices exhibited as much With a sparkling gleam of unspeakable joy in their eyes, those bruised and aching men lifted their souls above the mess their bodies were in. Songs of praise flowed from their lips. Joyful noise to God on whom their focus rested. If they’d looked around them, they’d have been wallowing in discouragement and distress. But they didn’t. They chose to look up. To God. The One from whom their help would come. And it did. In a glorious act of almighty power, God shook the earth. Rattled the prison. Flung the doors wide. Loosened chains. Freed the prisoners. Brought salvation to the jailer and his entire household. An event everyone would have missed if Paul and Silas hadn’t chosen to just look up. (Acts 16:22-28)

As society slips and slides into the abyss of spiritual decline and moral decay, the outlook around us is decidedly dark. If you choose to focus on current events, social trends, or worldwide disasters, you will find yourself drowning in a pit of worry, despair, anxiety, and fear. You don’t have to do that. There’s no reason to. You can simply look up. To Jesus. He’s both the Author and the Finisher of your faith. He wrote the beginning and the ending of the story. Your story. My story. The story of time. Nothing catches Him by surprise. He’s already walked these pages of time. He knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, next month, next year. And He’s already there. No matter the ugliness of your circumstances, the complexity of your situation, or the darkness of the world around you, Jesus is already there. He knows your needs, your fears, your cares. He has the answers. When you are tempted to be distracted by the news, the pundits, the local fearmongers, don’t give in. Straighten your spine. Lift your head. Remember Who wrote the story. And just look up. (Hebrews 12:2; Romans 15:13; Proverbs 19:21; II Corinthians 4:17-18; Isaiah 46:9-10; Psalm 90:2; Revelation 1:8; Colossians 3:2)