Accept us Again

“God, accept us again. Smile down on us and save us!” Psalm 80:3

Even the most optimistic positive-thinkers have to admit that life often doesn’t work out the way we expect. I know that is not a very radical statement, nor a great insight. But I think it goes to the heart of a very common spiritual dilemma: we are, on the one hand, accepted by God by faith in Jesus’ work on the cross, yet often find ourselves well outside the circle of His expectations. We are His children, yet can easily discover a rebel heart still beating proudly.

It is at those times we lament with the writer: “God, accept us again!” When the author of this Psalm wrote Israel was in the middle of tragedy and despair. They had backpedaled spiritually, finding themselves no longer brimming with confident hope. Yet, this cry, “Accept us again!” is a cry of faith, and a moment of hope.

It is as H. Norman Pell wrote, “I praise God because he not only guides my directions but overrules my mistakes.” Without the confidence of a forgiving God we either despair of truly experiencing His acceptance, or we hide our guilt away and act as if all is well. Neither response is healthy and both ignore the warm invitation of a holy God who desires to truly “Smile down and save us”.

We must never give up trusting for God’s restoration. Though we never fully measure up to His perfection, He has promised full acceptance “in Christ”. This acceptance is not based upon our behavior. It is not measured out bit by bit as if baiting us to jump when He barks out orders. God’s standards are high, incredibly high. There is no hope if we think we must attain His acceptance by finally climbing the long ascent to His throne. Once mounting one peak of “better behavior” we find another thousand beyond.

Our daughter has a little Chiweenie (half Dachshund, half Chihuahua), named Daisy. She and her puppy are living with us this year of college. Daisy loves to jump up and snuggle with me when I’m sitting in my lounger, cuddling underneath the blanket on my lap. With such short legs she usually doesn’t make the jump on her first try. From my spot in the chair I see her little head pop up, her paws barely touch the leg support, and back down again. Sometimes it is not until the fourth or fifth try that she ends up on my lap, licking my face in celebration.

She doesn’t jump over and over again to gain my acceptance. She keeps jumping because she knows I have accepted her. She works those little legs out of sheer delight in being with one of her special people. She even braves the chair when the cat has taken the chosen spot on my lap first.

Unfortunately we humans are much more complicated than our pets. We reason ourselves right out of the acceptance we need. But the Psalmist knew the value of crying out, even when it seemed God had packed up and moved out of the country. He lamented the loss of God’s fellowship from the depths of his heart. The lament was no lack of faith, it was the reach of hope to a God who had promised to be a Good Shepherd even to sheep who wander much more than they should.

It is the faithful who continue to cry out when God seems beyond our hearing. It is the hopeful who groan for renewal and the felt presence of God again. We are truly His people, not when we have everything right, but when we call out to God when all our dreams seem scattered by an unseen whirlwind. We are truly His chosen when we call out to Him for a better world rather than criticizing the failings we see.