“The Ripped Page In My Bible”

Have you ever felt ripped – ripped off, ripped out, ripped apart, ripped up? There have been some days when I am feeling pretty “ripped” even before the schedule gets going. The thoughts in my head have already consumed me. The details of the day seem daunting to say the least. I just begin the day “undone.” There is even the thought, “Maybe if I put the covers over my head and lie real still, they will think I am gone.” During one of these “undone” days, I ended up having an incredible conversation with Father God on this very topic.

I had just finished breakfast and realized that I had a few moments before I needed to get going. I had the idea of grabbing my Bible on the table, but I really didn’t want to do it. It was easier to just sit and sulk about everything that was wrong. Unfortunately, I kept looking at the Bible and knew that I was going to have to read it. So, I said to Father God, “Alright, if you are not going to let this go, I will pick up your words, and I will read them, but I am not happy about it, and I am going to choose this page that is ripped out of my Bible.” I could see the crumpled edges of this page clumsily stuffed back into its place. Of course, one of the kids had torn it at some point. So, in protest, I opened up the Bible to the ripped page, because that is how I felt. And I wondered what could Father God actually say to me that would in any way help me at this point. The ripped page was Psalm 27. Take a moment right now and read it. (I know – your Bible isn’t around you, and you just sat down, but you can do it. Get up and read Psalm 27!) That ripped page became my medicine for the day, my answer to the question I didn’t know I was asking.

Here is my response to these verses as I wrote them in my journal:
Vs. 1 – Oh Father, I need a light. I need your strength.
Vs. 2-3 – My flesh is being devoured by worry. The enemies of impatience, pity and strife are ganging up against me. I am lost in a sea of frustration. I am afraid, but you are telling me here you are going to win. I can live without fear. I can walk in confidence. Wow! I want that.
Vs. 4-5 – I do want to dwell in your house. You give me promises of safety and shelter. You even promise to “set me high upon a rock.” Set me apart from all this mess.
Vs. 6 – Father God, the word that caught me in this verse is “sacrifice.” Why must I offer a “sacrifice of joy” if you have already put me high on the rock? I am “high on the rock” but perhaps I am not going to feel that way. I am going to have to stand up, believe in your deliverance and sing, even before my circumstances reveal that deliverance.
Vs. 7-12 – You are looking for my “seeking.” You want my focus. In the midst of my feelings and frustrations, you have a way and a path. I want to walk in it, because I believe in your deliverance.
Vs. 13-14 – There will be waiting in the deliverance, waiting on my feelings to catch up to truth!

But Father God says to me and you – “Walk, child, walk in the belief of my love, my attention to your needs, my answers. I am here, and I have won! And you are mine! You are not bound by the pain. I have given you freedom. You have what you need for this day. Seek, sacrifice and sing!”

“That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.” C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity