Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred eighty-two of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title for today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Great Reversal – When Princes Wander and the Poor Become Princes

Today, we reach the summit of Psalm One Hundred Seven. We are exploring the final section, verses thirty-three through forty-three, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous treks through this magnificent psalm, we listened to the testimonies of the redeemed. We stood in the congregation of the faithful and heard four distinct groups shout, "Let them praise the Lord for his great love!"

We heard the Wanderers who found a city.   We heard the Prisoners whose chains were snapped.   We heard the Fools who were healed by God's sent Word.   And we heard the Sailors who saw the storm turned into a whisper.

All of these stories had a common plotline: Human desperation meets Divine Intervention. They were stories of rescue.

But as we enter the final movement of the psalm today, the camera angle changes. The psalmist stops telling individual stories and begins to describe the cosmic principles behind those stories. He moves from biography to theology.

He shows us that the God of Israel is the God of the Great Reversal. He is a God who does not just maintain the status quo; He actively flips the world upside down. He turns gardens into deserts and deserts into gardens. He throws princes into the mud and lifts the beggar to the throne.

This section reveals Yahweh’s absolute sovereignty over Cosmic Geography and Political Power. It teaches us that our environment—whether we are in a season of drought or abundance—is not accidental. It is governed by the hand of the King.

And finally, the psalm ends with a challenge to the "Wise." It asks us if we have the eyes to see the patterns of God’s love in the chaos of history.

So, let us open our eyes to the reversals of God.

He turns rivers into a desert, flowing springs into thirsty ground,  and fruitful land into salty wastelands, because of the wickedness of those who live there.

The psalmist begins by asserting God’s power to de-create.

In the Ancient Israelite worldview, water was life. A land with rivers and springs was a land blessed by God—it was Edenic. But here, the psalmist says that God has the authority to withdraw that life. He can turn a paradise into a "desert" (midbar).

This is not just climate change; it is judgment.

The imagery of "salty wastelands" (or "salt marsh") evokes the memory of Sodom and Gomorrah. Those cities were once located in a well-watered plain, "like the garden of the Lord" (Genesis Thirteen). But because of their wickedness, God rained down judgment, and the region became the Dead Sea—a place of salt where nothing grows.

This teaches us a terrifying truth about Moral Ecology. The land itself reacts to the behavior of its inhabitants. When a culture is filled with wickedness—injustice, idolatry, and violence—the land vomits them out (Leviticus Eighteen). God turns the fruitfulness into sterility. He allows the "rivers" of prosperity to dry up to get our attention.

In the Divine Council worldview, this is God reclaiming territory that has been corrupted by chaos. Rather than letting wickedness flourish in a garden, He turns it into a wasteland to strip away the illusion of independence.

He turns the wilderness into pools of water and dry ground into flowing springs.  He brings the hungry to settle there and to build their own cities.  They sow their fields, plant their vineyards, and harvest a bumper crop.  How he blesses them! They raise large families there, and their herds of livestock increase.

But the God who can dry up the river can also make the desert bloom. This is the Reversal.

This uses the same language as Isaiah Chapter Forty-one. God takes the "wilderness"—the place of chaos, demons, and death—and transforms it into an oasis. He re-creates Eden in the middle of the wasteland.

And look who He invites to live there: "He brings the hungry to settle there and to build their own cities."

Remember the Wanderers from verses four through nine? The hungry and homeless? God takes the people who were rejected by the world and gives them prime real estate.

He doesn't just give them a campsite; He empowers them to build a "city" (ir moshav—a city of habitation). A city represents permanence, order, security, and culture. God takes the refugees and turns them into citizens.

Then comes the restoration of productivity: "They sow their fields, plant their vineyards, and harvest a bumper crop."

The curse of the salt is gone. Now, there is sowing and reaping. There is the joy of wine (vineyards) and the sustenance of grain.

And finally, the blessing of multiplication: "How he blesses them! They raise large families there, and their herds of livestock increase."

"He blesses them, and they multiply greatly." This echoes the Abrahamic Promise and the Creation Mandate ("Be fruitful and multiply").

This is a picture of total restoration. God takes a barren place and a barren people, and He combines them to create a flourishing kingdom. This is the story of Israel returning from Exile, but it is also the story of the Church—a people called out of the wilderness of sin to become a fruitful vine in God’s Kingdom.

When they decrease in number and become impoverished through oppression, trouble, and sorrow,  God pours contempt on princes and causes them to wander in trackless wastelands.

The psalmist now shifts from geography to sociology—to the structures of power. He acknowledges that life is not a straight line of ascent.

Sometimes, God’s people are crushed. They are diminished by tyrants ("oppression").

But how does God respond to the tyrants?

This is a shocking statement. "Princes" (nadiv) are the nobles, the generous ones, the people with power and status. In the ancient world, these people were untouchable. They were often viewed as the sons of the gods.

But Yahweh treats them with "contempt" (buz). He pours scorn on them. He strips them of their dignity.

And notice the punishment: He causes them to "wander" (ta'ah) in a "trackless wasteland" (tohu).

The word tohu is the same word used in Genesis One, verse two—"the earth was without form and void." It represents absolute chaos.

God takes the men who thought they ruled the world—who drew the maps and built the roads—and He throws them into the void. He makes them wanderers. He effectively says, "You tried to make my people homeless (verse 4); now you will be homeless. You tried to act like gods; now you will wander like lost sheep."

This is a warning to every ruler, every politician, and every CEO. Power is a loan from God. If you use it for oppression, the Owner will foreclose, and you will find yourself wandering in a wasteland of your own making.

But he rescues the poor from trouble and increases their families like flocks of sheep.  The godly will see these things and be glad, while the wicked are struck silent.

Here is the flip side of the reversal. While the princes are wandering in the void, where are the poor?

The word "rescues" is literally "sets on high" (sagab). He lifts the needy (ebyon) out of the misery zone and places them in a high fortress, out of reach of the oppressors.

While the princes are solitary and lost, the poor are given community. They are given "families like a flock." This implies warmth, safety, and abundance. God builds a dynasty out of the destitute.

Then, the psalmist calls the courtroom to order to hear the verdict:

The "godly" (or upright) act as the witnesses. They observe this great reversal—the princes falling, the poor rising, the desert blooming—and they rejoice. They see that the universe is moral. They see that justice eventually wins.

But the "wicked" (literally, "all iniquity") shuts its mouth.

This is the silence of a defendant who has no defense. When faced with the undeniable evidence of God’s sovereignty—His ability to flip the script of history—evil has nothing left to say. The arrogance of the oppressor is silenced by the vindication of the victim.

Those who are wise will take all this to heart; they will see in our history the faithful love of the Lord.

We arrive at the final verse, which serves as the key to the entire psalm.

Literally, "Who is wise? Let him observe these things."

This turns the psalm into a Wisdom Text. It is not enough just to sing the songs of rescue; we must study them. We must observe the patterns.

What does a wise person observe?

They observe that rebellion leads to chains, but crying out leads to freedom.

They observe that God can dry up a river of prosperity if it is polluted with sin.

They observe that God can turn a desert of hopelessness into a city of joy.

They observe that the proud are eventually humbled, and the humble are eventually exalted.

And the ultimate conclusion of this observation is this: "...they will see in our history the faithful love of the Lord."

The Hebrew simply says, "Let them consider the Hesed of Yahweh."

The Unfailing Love (Hesed) of God is not a sentimental feeling. It is a rugged, historical force. It is the driving engine of the universe. It is the force that pursues the wanderer, breaks the prison bars, heals the fool, calms the storm, and topples the tyrant.

To be "Wise" is to look at the chaos of your life—or the chaos of the world—and find the thread of Hesed woven through it.

Psalm One Hundred Seven challenges us to become observers of Providence.

Do not just live your life; watch it. Watch how God responds to your cry. Watch how He disciplines and how He delivers.

If you are in a "salty wasteland" right now, ask yourself: Is there something God is trying to dry up in my life?   If you are wandering, take heart: God specializes in building cities for the homeless.

The Great Reversal is coming. The Princes of this world will wander, but the children of God will be set on high.

So today, as you walk your trek, be wise. Keep your eyes open. And look for the Unfailing Love that is rewriting your story even now.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps!   I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2781 of our Trek.   The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Our current series of Theology Thursday lessons is written by theologian and teacher John Daniels. I have found that his lessons are short, easy to understand, doctrinally sound, and applicable to all who desire to learn more of God’s Word. John’s lessons can be found on his website   theologyinfive.com.   Today’s lesson is titled A Critical Examination of Alexander Hislop: Why His Teachings Should Be Ignored.    

Alexander Hislop’s The Two Babylons has long held sway in certain evangelical and fundamentalist circles. Its central claim—that Roman Catholicism is a disguised continuation of ancient Babylonian paganism—has influenced generations of Christians suspicious of the Catholic Church. Hislop argues that practices and symbols within Catholicism were derived from ancient worship of figures like Nimrod and Semiramis. Yet as modern scholarship has consistently demonstrated, these claims collapse under scrutiny. This article examines why Hislop’s theories are deeply flawed, historically inaccurate, and ultimately harmful.

From the outset, Hislop’s work suffers from methodological failure. Rather than employing credible historical sources, linguistic analysis, or archaeological evidence, Hislop leans heavily on speculation and forced connections. He draws parallels based on little more than superficial similarity—treating visual resemblance or name echoes as definitive proof of religious continuity.

A striking example is Hislop’s attempt to link the Virgin Mary with the Babylonian figure Semiramis. Rather than relying on historical context or primary sources, he builds his case on tenuous similarities and conjecture. This pattern repeats throughout the book. Hislop’s conclusions are based on circular reasoning, and his work lacks the kind of critical evaluation expected in even the most basic academic research.

At the core of Hislop’s argument is the narrative that Nimrod and Semiramis served as the original model for all pagan deities and that this archetype was smuggled into Christianity. According to Hislop, the Catholic portrayal of Mary and Jesus as a mother and child pair is simply a continuation of Babylonian goddess worship.

This idea, however, has no basis in historical fact. There is no ancient evidence linking Nimrod, a biblical figure mentioned briefly in Genesis, to Semiramis, who appears centuries later in Assyrian and Greco-Roman sources. Semiramis is never presented as Nimrod’s wife in any ancient record. Nor is she depicted as a fertility goddess or a “Queen of Heaven” in a context that would support Hislop’s claims. Instead, she is often described as a powerful queen or military leader, not a religious figure. The pairing of Nimrod and Semiramis is entirely Hislop’s invention.

Furthermore, Nimrod himself is not attested in any ancient Mesopotamian inscriptions as a god, cult figure, or object of worship. Hislop’s claim that Nimrod became the prototype for gods such as Osiris, Zeus, or Baal is another example of his flawed approach. These figures arise from vastly different cultures and time periods. While some religious themes are common across civilizations, this does not imply that all traditions share a single origin—especially not one so poorly attested as Hislop’s theory.

Throughout The Two Babylons, Hislop treats symbolism as if it were conclusive evidence. If one religion uses a symbol and another uses a similar one, he assumes a direct connection without regard for chronology, culture, or meaning. This assumption, that similarity equals origin, is both academically irresponsible and logically unsound.

The reality is that mother-and-child motifs appear across many ancient societies, not because they all borrowed from Babylon, but because motherhood and infancy are universal human experiences. To assume that such symbols indicate historical borrowing is to engage in what scholars have called “parallelomania”—the tendency to draw connections between unrelated things based solely on superficial resemblance.

Even in Hislop’s own time, The Two Babylons failed to gain serious recognition among historians or theologians. It was never peer-reviewed, and Hislop’s research practices did not meet the standards of historical inquiry, even by 19th-century measures. Today, his book is almost universally disregarded by scholars across disciplines, not because of any bias, but because it simply does not hold up under critical examination.

Modern historians and archaeologists who specialize in the ancient Near East, early Christianity, or comparative religion never cite Hislop’s work, except to point out its failings. His theories are not built on credible primary sources, and his interpretations reflect personal bias far more than scholarly rigor.

One of the most notable repudiations of Hislop’s work came from Ralph Woodrow. Once a strong supporter of The Two Babylons, Woodrow initially wrote his own book echoing Hislop’s claims. However, after reviewing the evidence for himself, Woodrow publicly withdrew his earlier work and replaced it with The Babylon Connection?, a detailed and honest refutation of Hislop’s theories. That level of intellectual integrity stands in stark contrast to the approach Hislop modeled.

Hislop’s purpose was not to provide an objective history of religion, but to undermine the Catholic Church. This anti-Catholic bias pervades every chapter of The Two Babylons, distorting his interpretations and fueling a narrative that sees paganism behind every aspect of Catholic liturgy.

This polemical intent not only discredits the work academically, but has also had long-term consequences for Christian unity. Hislop’s theories have contributed to division, mistrust, and suspicion between Christian communities. In many cases, his arguments have been uncritically adopted by those predisposed to anti-Catholic sentiment, reinforcing hostility instead of understanding.

Since Hislop’s time, the fields of archaeology, ancient history, and biblical studies have undergone profound advances. Archaeological discoveries, textual analysis, and cross-cultural studies have clarified the development of Christian doctrine and worship practices. These advances have thoroughly disproven Hislop’s thesis.

Symbols used by Christians, such as the cross, have distinct origins within the Christian tradition and were not borrowed from Babylonian religion. While the development of Mariology within the Catholic Church is itself the subject of theological debate, what can be said with confidence is that it did not arise from the repackaging of pagan goddess worship as Hislop claimed. His assertions ignore the actual development of doctrine and practice in the early Church. Furthermore, early Christians were often martyred for refusing to engage in pagan practices—not for blending them into their worship—which directly contradicts Hislop’s core narrative.

Hislop’s idea of a secret pagan origin hidden within the Church is simply not supported by the evidence. Modern research, drawing on both textual and archaeological sources, paints a much more accurate and nuanced picture.

The Two Babylons may have appealed to readers in an age with less access to historical data, but it cannot stand in the face of modern evidence and serious scholarship. Hislop’s work is not historical research. It is a false polemic, driven by bias and constructed through conjecture.

Christians seeking to understand church history should avoid relying on this deeply flawed source. Instead, they should turn to reliable, evidence-based scholarship that respects the complexity of history and the integrity of the Christian tradition. Continuing to promote Hislop’s claims only serves to spread misinformation and foster needless division.

What are the dangers of using unfounded symbolic connections in forming theological conclusions?

How has The Two Babylonsshaped Protestant views of Catholicism, and what steps can be taken to heal divisions rooted in misinformation?

Why is it important to distinguish between speculation and historical evidence in religious discourse?

What role does bias play in shaping historical narratives, and how can it be identified?

How should Christians respond to popular but discredited theories that remain influential in some circles?

Join us next time on Theology Thursday, where our lesson will explore: The Unintended Consequences of Replacing Yahweh with “God.”

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of  ‘Wisdom-Trek,     Creating a Legacy.’         

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly,   I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.

As we take this Trek of life together, let us always:          

Love Unconditionally.       

Listen Intentionally.      

Learn Continuously.        

Lend to others Generously.         

Lead with Integrity.          

Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.         

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to,   “Keep Moving Forward, Enjoy your journey, and create a great day, every day!  Join me next time for more daily wisdom!

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred eighty of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title of today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Great Rescue – Healing the Fool and Taming the Chaos.

Today, we continue our voyage through the magnificent Psalm One Hundred Seven. We are exploring the second half of the four great testimonies of redemption, covering verses seventeen through thirty-two, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek through the first sixteen verses of this psalm, we stood amidst the great assembly of the redeemed. We heard the call: "Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out!"

We heard the testimony of the Wanderers—those who were lost in the desolate wilderness, hungry and homeless, until God led them to a city.

We heard the testimony of the Prisoners—those who sat in darkness and iron chains because they rebelled against the counsel of the Most High, until God shattered the bronze gates to set them free.

Today, two more groups step forward to the microphone. Their stories are perhaps even more intense.

First, we will meet the Fools—those whose rebellion manifested not as chains, but as a sickness that brought them to the very brink of the grave.

Second, we will meet the Sailors—the merchants who dared to do business in the chaotic deep, only to find themselves reeling like drunkards in a storm that swallowed their wisdom whole.

In both cases, we will see the Hesed—the Unfailing Love—of Yahweh intervene when all hope was lost. We will see Him send His Word to heal, and we will see Him whisper to the waves to bring peace.

So, let us listen as the next witnesses share their story of salvation.

The first segment is: Testimony Three: The Fools and the Great Physician.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses seventeen through nineteen.

Some were fools; they suffered because of their sinful ways.  Their appetites were gone, and they drew near to the gates of death.  "Lord, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress.

The third group steps forward, and the psalmist introduces them with a blunt, uncomplimentary title: "Fools."

The Hebrew word used here is evilim. In the wisdom literature of Proverbs, a fool is not someone who lacks intelligence; a fool is someone who lacks moral compass. A fool is someone who lives as if there are no consequences. They are spiritually reckless.

The text tells us plainly that their suffering was self-inflicted. It was "because of their sinful ways" (literally, "the way of their transgression"). They lived hard, rebelled against God's design for life, and now the bill had come due.

The consequence manifested as physical collapse: "Their appetites were gone, and they drew near to the gates of death."

They "loathed all food." They reached a point of physical wasting where the body shuts down. But the psalmist uses a specific, terrifying image: they drew near to the "gates of death."

In the Ancient Israelite worldview, Death (or Sheol) was viewed as a physical realm—a fortress city located in the underworld. It had bars and gates. To "draw near to the gates" meant you were standing on the threshold of the realm of the dead. You were about to cross over into the silence of non-existence.

This is the ultimate crisis. Doctors can do nothing. Food does nothing. They are knocking on death's door.

But even here, on the very precipice of Sheol, the pivot point remains: "'Lord, help!' they cried in their trouble..."

Notice that God does not say, "You are a fool; you did this to yourself; deal with it." The moment the fool humbles himself to cry out, the Lord responds.

The second segment is: The Healing Agent: The Sent Word.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses twenty through twenty-two.

He sent his word and healed them, snatching them from the door of death.  Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them.  Let them offer sacrifices of thanksgiving and sing joyfully about his glorious acts.

How does God rescue someone who is dying?

This is a profound theological statement. In the ancient world, people often believed healing required magic potions, elaborate rituals, or the appeasement of demons. But Yahweh heals by fiat. He sends His Word (dabar).

The "Word" here is personified. It acts as a messenger or an agent. It goes out from the throne of God, enters the sick room, and pushes back the darkness. It "snatches" (or delivers) them from the Pit (shachat).

This anticipates the theology we see later in the Gospel of John, where the Word becomes flesh. Even in the Old Testament, the Word of God is not just sound waves; it is an active, life-giving force. It is the same Word that spoke creation into existence in Psalm One Hundred Four. If that Word can breathe life into dust, it can certainly breathe health back into a dying fool.

Because the rescue was so dramatic—snatched from the jaws of the grave—the response must be equally dramatic:

The "sacrifice of thanksgiving" (todah) was a specific offering in the Levitical system (Leviticus Seven). It was a peace offering brought when someone had survived a life-threatening situation. It involved a communal meal.

The healed fool doesn't just say a quiet prayer in his bedroom. He goes to the temple. He brings the meat and the bread. He gathers his friends and family. And he "sings joyfully" (literally, "recounts His works with ringing cries"). He tells everyone, "I was a fool. I was dying. But God sent His Word and saved me."

The third segment is: Testimony Four: The Merchants on the Chaos Waters.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses twenty-three through twenty-seven.

Some went off to sea in ships, plying the trade routes of the world.  They, too, observed the Lord’s power in action, his impressive works on the deepest seas.  He spoke, and the winds rose, stirring up the waves.  Their ships were tossed to the heavens and plunged again to the depths; the sailors cringed in terror.  They reeled and staggered like drunkards and were at their wits’ end.

The final group steps forward. These are not rebels or fools; they are businessmen. They are the Sailors.

To understand the terror of this stanza, we must put on our Ancient Israelite worldview lenses. The Israelites were not a seafaring people like the Phoenicians. To them, the Sea (Yam) was the realm of chaos. It was the habitation of Leviathan. It was dangerous, unpredictable, and hostile to human life.

Going out onto the "deepest seas" (the tehom) was venturing into the jaws of the abyss. But these merchants went there to do business (mela'kah). They took the risk for the reward.

They saw something land-dwellers never see. They saw the raw, untamed power of the Creator in the element of chaos.

Notice the sovereignty. The storm didn't just happen. God "spoke" (literally, "He commanded"). He summoned the storm wind (ruach searah). This affirms that even the chaotic sea is under Yahweh's leash. He stirs it up.

The description of the storm is visceral: "Their ships were tossed to the heavens and plunged again to the depths; the sailors cringed in terror." (Literally, "their soul melted because of trouble").

This is the rollercoaster of a hurricane at sea. One moment you are looking at the sky; the next you are looking at the bottom of the abyss. The courage of these seasoned sailors "melted."

The Hebrew phrase for "at their wits’ end" is fascinating: "All their wisdom was swallowed up."

These sailors had "wisdom"—they knew navigation, they knew how to handle the ropes, they knew the stars. But the chaos of the storm swallowed their technical skill. All their know-how was useless. They were reduced to helpless, reeling drunkards on a shifting floor.

This is a picture of life when the bottom falls out. You can have all the degrees, all the money, and all the experience in the world, but when the Great Storm hits, your "wisdom is swallowed up." You realize you are not in control.

The fourth segment is: The Divine Hush: Mastery Over Chaos.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses twenty-eight through thirty.

"Lord, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress.  He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves.  What a blessing was that stillness as he brought them safely into harbor!

When their wisdom failed, their prayer began.

And the response of the Creator is immediate and majestic.

This is Yahweh acting as the Master of the Sea. In the Baal Cycle of Canaanite mythology, Baal had to fight the sea god Yam. Here, Yahweh simply asserts His will. He turns the roaring hurricane into a "whisper" (or silence).

We cannot read this without thinking of Jesus in the gospels. When Jesus stood up in the boat and said, "Peace, be still," He was reenacting Psalm One Hundred Seven. He was doing what only Yahweh can do—stilling the waves of the abyss. He was proving to the disciples that He was the God of this psalm.

The chaos is replaced by gladness. God guides them to their "desired haven" (city or harbor). Just as He led the Wanderers to a city, He leads the Sailors to a port. He brings them from the chaos of the deep to the stability of the land.

The Fifth segment is: The Public Verdict: Exalt Him in the Assembly.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses thirty-one through thirty-two.

Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them.  Let them exalt him publicly before the congregation and before the leaders of the nation.

For the fourth time, the refrain rings out. But for the sailors, there is a specific instruction on where to praise.

Literally, "in the assembly of the people and the seat of the elders."

The sailors had been out on the periphery, away from society, in the lonely and dangerous deep. Now that they are back in the safety of the city, they must go to the center of civic life—the assembly and the elders—and declare God’s sovereignty.

They are witnesses. They have seen God’s power in the deep, and they must report back to the land-dwellers. They must tell the city council and the church gathering: "We were dead men. Our wisdom was gone. But Yahweh whispered to the waves, and we are alive."

This completes the cycle of the four testimonies in Psalm One Hundred Seven.

The Wanderers: Saved from the emptiness of the desert.

The Prisoners: Saved from the darkness of the dungeon.

The Fools: Saved from the sickness of sin.

The Sailors: Saved from the chaos of the storm.

What is the common thread?

It is not the merit of the people. The fools were sinful; the prisoners were rebellious. It is not their strength. The sailors were reeling; the wanderers were fainting.

The common thread is the Cry.

And the common answer is Hesed—Unfailing Love.

God is the God who gathers. He gathers the lost, the bound, the sick, and the drowning. He brings them all to a place of safety—a city, a harbor, a home.

So today, as you walk your trek, ask yourself: Which of these four are you?

Are you wandering, looking for purpose? Are you bound by a habit or a consequence? Are you sick at heart because of foolish choices? Or are you in a storm where your wisdom has been swallowed up?

The solution is the same for all four. Cry out. The God of the gathering is listening. He has a Word that can heal, and He has a whisper that can calm the sea.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Day 2779– The Prophet of the Most High – Luke 1:57-80

Putnam Church Message – 12/14/2025

Last week, we continued our year-long study of Luke’s Narrative of the Good News in a message titled: “The Day Mary Met Gabriel.” – Peace in the Unexpected.

This week is the third Sunday of Advent, which is Joy, as we continue to build anticipation of the coming Messiah. Today's passage is the story of: “The Prophet of the Most High.” Joy to the World - Our Core verses for this week will be Luke 1:57-80, found on page 1589 of your Pew Bibles.

because he has come to his people and redeemed them.

69 He has raised up a horn> of salvation for us

in the house of his servant David

70 (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),

71 salvation from our enemies

and from the hand of all who hate us—

72 to show mercy to our ancestors

and to remember his holy covenant,

73     the oath he swore to our father Abraham:

74 to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,

and to enable us to serve him without fear

75     in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.

for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,

77 to give his people the knowledge of salvation

through the forgiveness of their sins,

78 because of the tender mercy of our God,

by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven

79 to shine on those living in darkness

and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

It is often said that the night is darkest just before the dawn. Israel knew this feeling intimately. Centuries earlier, God had spoken through Malachi:

“Look, I am sending you the prophet Elijah before the great and dreadful day of the Lord arrives. — Mal. 4:5 (NLT)

And then… silence… Four centuries of it… Four hundred years with no prophet, no new Scripture, no voice from heaven.

Yet faithful Israelites clung desperately to this promise. They repeated it at family gatherings. They whispered it in the synagogue. They prayed it into their children.

But the world around them looked nothing like God’s kingdom. Under Herod the Great—paranoid, violent, corrupt—Israel endured oppression, fear, and injustice. Spiritually, politically, emotionally, they were living in a long night.

And then, as Luke tells us, “When it was time for Elizabeth’s baby to be born, she gave birth to a son. — Luke 1:57

The dawn began with the cry of a newborn prophet.

John’s birth broke heaven’s silence.

His arrival pierced the darkness.

His life would prepare the way for Jesus—the Light of the World.

This Advent, we look at this text, through the lens of JOY—because joy is the first fruit of God fulfilling His promises. Joy is the overflowing evidence that God has not forgotten His people. Joy is what rises when God steps into our impossible situations.

 

 

Picture the hill country of Judea. Stone homes clustered together. Families whose lives intertwine—everyone knows everyone’s business.

Elizabeth, far beyond typical childbearing age, has carried a miracle in her womb for nine months. Word has spread. Every neighbor has watched with curiosity. Some whispered with amazement; others likely wondered if the story Zachariah “wrote down on his tablet” was really true.

In these small Jewish villages, childbirth was not private. Women gathered. Midwives assisted. Family and neighbors filled the air with prayer and anticipation.

The joy exploded. The Scripture says: “And when her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had been very merciful to her, everyone rejoiced with her.” — Luke 1:58

This wasn’t just Elizabeth’s joy. This was community joy.

Because when God fulfills a promise, joy always overflows onto others.

In first-century Judaism:

A barren woman was seen as having lost God’s favor.

A child—especially a son—was considered a sign of divine blessing.

Names were chosen to preserve family honor and legacy.

So, when Elizabeth delivered a son, and in her old age, it was seen not merely as a personal blessing… but as a divine reversal—God restoring dignity that had been lost.

And then came the naming ceremony on day eight—the day of circumcision, when a Jewish boy was formally brought into the covenant of Abraham.

Everyone assumed the baby would be named Zachariah, after his father. But Elizabeth said, “No, his name is John.” (1:60)

It shocked them. Why?

Because:

Names carried identity.

Names carried destiny.

Names tied a child to the story of their people.

A name outside the family line? Something unusual was happening.

And then Zachariah, still unable to speak, wrote: “His name is John.”

Instantly, Zechariah could speak again, and he began praising God. (1:64)

Have you ever waited for a phone call that never seemed to come? /Perhaps a doctor’s report. /News about the birth of a grandchild. /A job offer. /A message from a family member who has grown distant.

Silence can be heavy. / Silence can be frightening. /Silence can drain the joy out of your soul.

But when the waiting is finally broken…when the message comes…when hope is realized…joy erupts.

Elizabeth and Zachariah had lived in silence—one personal, the other divinely imposed. Israel had lived in silence for 400 years. And suddenly—God broke both silences with one cry of a baby.

Then ring it. - Let the single note represent the breakthrough.

Explain: “Elizabeth’s home had been quiet for years. But when John was born, God rang the bell of joy. And everyone around her heard it.”

The birth of John the Baptist teaches us:

God has perfect timing.

God does not forget His people.

God turns silence into song.

God turns longing into laughter.

 

As the community gathered on the eighth day, they fully expected the boy to be named after his father. In their minds, this was obvious.

Honoring family lineage was a deeply embedded tradition:

The father’s name was preserved.

The family story continued.

The tribe’s identity remained strong.

But Elizabeth said firmly, “No! His name is John.”

The people protested: “What?” they exclaimed. “There is no one in all your family by that name.”  Luke 1:61

To name a child outside tradition was highly unusual—almost unthinkable.

So, they turned to Zachariah to overrule her. But Zachariah, still deaf and mute, asked for a writing tablet and wrote: “His name is John.”

Not “will be.”

Not “should be.”

Not “we plan to name him…”

But IS—because in the mind of a man transformed by God’s discipline, obedience was now his only response.

In that moment of obedience, Luke tells us:

“Instantly Zachariah could speak again, and he began praising God.” — Luke 1:64

 

Why did God tie Zachariah’s restored speech to the naming of the child? Because God’s discipline was never punishment—it was correction. Zachariah’s original disbelief had robbed him of his voice. Now, faith, expressed through obedience, restored it.

There is a powerful spiritual truth here: Joy follows obedience.

Obedience doesn’t earn God’s favor. Obedience positions our hearts to receive it.

Israel had been disobedient for generations. Their silence—no prophet, no message from God—reflected that. But now, with this act of obedience in naming the child according to God’s command, joy was restored. The silence was broken. Heaven was speaking again.

In Jewish culture:

A father’s voice carried authority.

Spoken blessings were considered legally binding.

Discipline was intended to restore honor and relationship.

So, when Zachariah spoke again, his very first words were: Praise. Worship. Joy.

This cultural expectation reinforces a spiritual truth: When God restores us,

when He lifts us from the consequences of our doubt or disobedience,

the only fitting response is JOYFUL PRAISE.

 

Imagine a major power outage in winter. Houses go dark. Heaters shut down. Refrigerators stop humming. Families sit together under blankets, waiting in cold silence.

Then—after hours, maybe days—the electricity flickers, buzzes, and comes back on.

 

What happens?

Cheers

Laughter

Relief

JOY

The simple return of power brings life back to the home. This is what happened to Zachariah.  His “power” had been cut. His voice had been darkened. For nine months, he lived in quietness, contemplating God’s message.

But when obedience was restored, the lights came back on. He spoke. He praised. He rejoiced.

Zachariah teaches us:

Obedience restores what doubt has broken.

God’s discipline is meant to bring joy, not punishment.

Praise is the natural overflow of restored fellowship.

Now that Zachariah’s voice is restored, Luke tells us: “Then his father, Zachariah, was filled with the Holy Spirit and gave this prophecy…” — Luke 1:67

This means the first words he spoke after nine months of silence were not complaints, explanations, or apologies. They weren’t even words of relief. They were prophetic praise. Not small praise. Not polite praise. Not quiet praise.

A full, overflowing, Spirit-inspired praise erupting from deep inside a man who had tasted the discipline of God and now was tasting His faithfulness. Zachariah’s joy is not shallow—it is Scripture-saturated, covenant-rooted joy. Let’s walk through the elements of his prophetic psalm known as the Benedictus.

Joy rooted in redemption (vv. 68–69)

“Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has visited and redeemed his people.” — Luke 1:68

In the ancient world, “visited” meant more than stopping by. It meant “intervening powerfully to help.”

For 400 years, they thought God had not “visited.” Now, He was breaking through. Zachariah sees John’s birth not just as a family blessing but as a national and spiritual one:

Redemption is beginning.

God’s silence is ending.

The Messiah is near.

 

Joy rooted in covenant promises (vv. 70–73)

Zachariah points backward:

To Abraham

To David

To the prophets

To God’s covenant mercy

 

Why? Because joy increases when we remember we are part of God’s story.

Ancient Israel understood covenant joy:

God had promised a Redeemer.

God had promised deliverance.

God had promised salvation.

Now, standing in his own home, holding his long-awaited son, Zachariah realizes: “God is doing what He said He would do!” His joy is anchored not in emotions

but in God’s unshakeable faithfulness.

Joy rooted in deliverance from fear (v. 74)

Zachariah proclaims: “We have been rescued from our enemies so we can serve God without fear…” — Luke 1:74

For centuries, Israel lived under fear:

Fear of Rome

Fear of corrupt leaders

Fear of losing their identity

Fear that God might never restore them.

 

But now, joy replaces fear. In Scripture, the opposite of fear is not courage—

the opposite of fear is joyful trust.

Joy rooted in restored purpose (v. 75)

“…in holiness and righteousness for as long as we live.” — Luke 1:75

Zachariah’s joy expands beyond his own life: Now that the Messiah’s coming is at hand, God’s people can return to their true identity and calling. Joy comes when we rediscover God's purpose for us.

Jewish worship was rooted in remembering:

God’s faithfulness to Abraham

God’s deliverance from Egypt

God’s covenant with David

 

Joy was not emotional hype; it was deep, settled confidence in a God who keeps His word. In the first century, Jews recited daily prayers that rehearsed the mighty acts of God. This wasn’t tradition—it was fuel for hope. In the same way, Zachariah bursts with joy because he sees: The God of history is now acting in the present.

Joy erupts when we recognize that God keeps His promises.

Zachariah’s prophetic song teaches us:

Joy flows from redemption

Joy strengthens when we remember God’s faithfulness.

Joy replaces fear with trust.

Joy...

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred seventy-eight of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title for today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Great Gathering – From the Wasteland to the Broken Gates.  

Today, we cross a major threshold in our expedition through the Psalms. We are stepping into Book Five of the Psalter, the final collection of these ancient songs.

We begin this new leg of the journey with Psalm One Hundred Seven, covering the first two stanzas, verses one through sixteen, in the New Living Translation.

To understand the power of this moment, we must remember where we left off. In our previous trek, we stood at the end of Psalm One Hundred Six, which was the conclusion of Book Four. That psalm ended with a desperate, heartbreaking prayer from the exile: "Save us, O Lord our God! Gather us back from among the nations."

It was a cry from the diaspora, a plea from a people scattered to the four winds because of their rebellion. They were asking God to reverse the judgment of the exile.

Psalm One Hundred Seven is the thunderous answer to that prayer.

If Psalm One Hundred Six ended with a plea to be gathered, Psalm One Hundred Seven begins with the celebration of the gathered. The tone shifts from petition to proclamation. It is a panoramic view of God’s Redemption. It describes specific scenarios of human desperation—being lost in the desert, locked in a dungeon, sick unto death, or tossed in a storm—and shows how Yahweh intervenes to rescue.

It is a psalm that celebrates the Hesed—the Unfailing Love—of God, which pursues us into the wildest wastelands and the darkest prisons.

So, let us join the procession of the redeemed and listen to their stories.

The first segment is: The Prologue: The Song of the Redeemed.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses one through three.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.  Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out! Tell others he has redeemed you from your enemies.  For he has gathered the exiles from many lands, from east and west, from north and south.

The psalm opens with the classic liturgical call to worship, identifying the core motivation for all praise: God is Good, and His Faithful Love (Hesed) is eternal.

But then, the psalmist turns to the congregation and issues a challenge: "Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out!"

The Hebrew word for "Redeemed" is Geulim. It comes from the word Ga'al, which refers to the Kinsman-Redeemer. This was the nearest male relative who had the legal responsibility to buy back a family member who had been sold into slavery or to buy back family land that had been lost.

By calling God the Redeemer, the psalmist is saying that Yahweh has acted as Israel’s next-of-kin. When they sold themselves into the slavery of sin and exile, He paid the price to buy them back. He didn't do it because they were worthy; He did it because they were family.

And the proof of this redemption is the Gathering: "For he has gathered the exiles from many lands, from east and west, from north and south."

This is the direct fulfillment of the prayer in Psalm One Hundred Six, verse forty-seven. The word used here for "gathered" (qabats) is the standard term for the reversal of the exile.

Interestingly, the Hebrew text says he gathered them from the "North" and from the "Sea" (Yam). The NLT translates "Sea" as "South" to make geographical sense (since the Mediterranean Sea is West), but the ambiguity is poetic. It implies gathering them from the chaos waters, from the ends of the earth.

This sets the stage. The "Redeemed" are now gathered in Jerusalem, and the psalmist invites them to come forward, group by group, to tell their testimony. We are about to hear four distinct testimonies of salvation. Today, we will hear the first two: The Wanderers and The Prisoners.

 

The Second Segment is: Testimony One: The Wanderers in the Wasteland.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses four through nine.

Some wandered in the wilderness, lost and homeless.  Hungry and thirsty, they nearly died.  "Lord, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he rescued them from their distress.  He led them straight to safety, to a city where they could live.  Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them.  For he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.

The first group steps forward. These are the Wanderers.

The setting is the "wilderness" (midbar) and the "wasteland" (yeshimon). In the Ancient Israelite worldview, the wilderness was not just a place of camping; it was the realm of chaos. It was the "non-city." The city represented order, safety, and provision. The wilderness represented danger, exposure, and demons (the "howling waste" of Deuteronomy Thirty-two).

These people were physically and spiritually disoriented. They found "no way to a city of habitation." They were off the map.

Their condition was critical: "Hungry and thirsty, they nearly died." (Literally, "their soul fainted within them").

They had reached the end of their resources. The desert gives nothing; it only takes. They were facing the slow, agonizing death of exposure and starvation.

Then comes the pivot point, which will be repeated in every stanza of this psalm: "'Lord, help!' they cried in their trouble..."

They didn't have a sacrifice to offer. They didn't have a temple to go to. All they had was a scream. But that was enough.

God provides two things: Direction and Destination.   He led them by a "straight way." When you are lost in the desert, you walk in circles. God straightened their path. And He brought them to a "city of habitation." He didn't just give them a tent; He gave them a permanent home. He restored them to community and order.

Therefore, the refrain rings out: "Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them."

"Let them give thanks to Yahweh for His Hesed." The wanderers know, better than anyone, that God satisfies.

This mirrors the language of Psalm One Hundred Three, where God "fills my life with good things." The one who has tasted the dust of the desert knows the true value of the bread of heaven.

This testimony speaks to all of us who have felt spiritually homeless—wandering through life without purpose, hungry for meaning, and unable to find our place. God is the Guide who leads us to the City.

The Third Segment is: Testimony Two: The Prisoners in Darkness.

Psalm One Hundred Seven: verses ten through sixteen.

Some sat in darkness and deepest gloom, imprisoned in iron chains of misery.  They rebelled against the words of God, scorning the counsel of the Most High.  That is why he broke them with hard labor; they fell, and no one was there to help them.  "Lord, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress.  He led them from the darkness and deepest gloom; he snapped their chains.  Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them.  For he broke down their prison gates of bronze; he cut apart their bars of iron.

The second group steps forward. If the first group was suffering from lostness, this group is suffering from bondage.

The phrase "deepest gloom" is the Hebrew word tsalmavet—often translated as "the shadow of death." This isn't just a dim room; it is the darkness of the grave. They are bound in "affliction and iron."

But unlike the wanderers, whose problem was geographical, the prisoners' problem is explicitly moral. The psalmist tells us exactly why they are in jail:

This is significant language in the Divine Council worldview.   They rebelled against the "words of El" (God) and spurned the "counsel" (etsah) of Elyon (the Most High).

The "Counsel of the Most High" refers to the decrees that issue from God's throne. This isn't just ignoring good advice; it is high treason against the Cosmic King. It echoes the rebellion of the nations and the stubbornness of Israel we saw in Psalm One Hundred Six.

Because of this rebellion, God enacted discipline: "That is why he broke them with hard labor; they fell, and no one was there to help them."

God humbled their hearts. He let them experience the consequences of their autonomy. If they didn't want to serve God, they would serve hard labor. They stumbled, and in their isolation, they realized there was "no helper."

But even here, in the prison of their own making, the pivot point remains:

This highlights the incredible reach of God’s grace. He doesn't say, "You rebelled, so you stay there." The moment the rebel cries out, the Rebel becomes the Rescued.

God descends into the shadow of death to perform a jailbreak.

And look at the violence of the rescue: "For he broke down their prison gates of bronze; he cut apart their bars of iron."

This imagery recalls the ancient practice of conquering cities. Victorious kings would shatter the bronze gates of the enemy fortress.

But here, God is shattering the gates that held His own people captive. Whether these were literal prisons in Babylon or the spiritual chains of sin and addiction, the power of Yahweh is greater than the metallurgy of the enemy. There is no gate of bronze that can stand against the Kinsman-Redeemer when He comes to claim His family.

Therefore, the refrain rings out again: "Let them praise the Lord for his great love and for the wonderful things he has done for them."

The prisoners have a unique song. It is the song of those who know they deserved the iron collar (as we saw with Joseph in Psalm 105), but received liberty instead.

Psalm One Hundred Seven, verses one through sixteen, presents us with two powerful metaphors for the human condition.

Some of us are Wanderers. We aren't necessarily rebelling; we are just lost. We are trying to find satisfaction in a dry wilderness that cannot provide it. We need God to show us the way to the City.

Some of us are Prisoners. We are in the dark because of our own choices. We fought against the "counsel of the Most High," and now we are sitting in the chains of consequence. We need God to break the gates.

The good news of this psalm is that the Unfailing Love of God covers both territories. Whether you are lost in the desert or locked in the dark, the cry "Lord, help!" reaches His ears.

So today, if you are hungry, cry out to the Provider. If you are bound, cry out to the Breaker of Chains. And when He answers—and He will—do not stay silent. "Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out!"

Join us tomorrow as we hear the testimonies of the Sick and the Storm-Tossed.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred seventy-seven of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title for today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Horror of Accommodation – When the Salt Loses Its Savor.

Today, we reach the solemn conclusion of our journey through Psalm One Hundred Six. We are trekking through the final section, verses thirty-four through forty-eight, in the New Living Translation.

This marks not only the end of this specific psalm but also the conclusion of Book Four of the Psalter.

In our previous trek, we walked through the "Cycle of Amnesia" in the wilderness. We watched a generation that had been liberated by the mighty hand of God crumble into grumbling, envy, and idolatry. We saw them trade their glorious God for a grass-eating bull at Sinai. We saw them yoke themselves to the dead spirits at Baal-Peor. It was a tragic catalog of missed opportunities and hardened hearts.

But as we turn to verse thirty-four, the scene shifts. The wilderness wanderings are over. Joshua has led the people across the Jordan. The walls of Jericho have fallen. The people are now living in the Promised Land—the "pleasant land" they once despised.

You might think, "Finally! They made it! Now they will surely be faithful."

Tragically, the change of geography did not create a change of heart.

In this final section, we witness the slow, agonizing slide from Conquest to Compromise, and finally to Captivity. We will see what happens when the people of God stop fighting the culture and start becoming the culture. We will encounter the darkest verse in Israel’s history—the sacrifice of children to demons—and we will see how the land itself vomited them out.

But, true to the character of Yahweh, we will also see that even in the darkest pit of exile, the ladder of Covenant Love still reaches down.

So, let us brace ourselves for the hard truth of history, and the healing balm of God’s mercy.

The first segment is: The Failure of Assimilation: Mingling with the Darkness.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses thirty-four through thirty-nine.

Israel failed to destroy the nations in the land, as the Lord had commanded them.  Instead, they mingled among the pagans and adopted their evil customs.  They worshiped their idols, which became a snare to them.  They even sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons.  They shed innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters. By sacrificing them to the idols of Canaan, they polluted the land with murder.  They defiled themselves by their evil deeds, and their love of idols was adultery in the Lord’s sight.

The psalmist begins by pinpointing the root of the disaster: Incomplete Obedience.

This refers to the command in Deuteronomy Chapter Seven. God ordered the removal of the Canaanite nations not because of ethnic hatred, but because of spiritual contamination. The Canaanites were deeply entrenched in the worship of the rebel gods of the Divine Council worldview. Their culture was built on depravity. God knew that if they remained, Israel would catch their spiritual disease.

And that is exactly what happened.

The Hebrew word for "mingled" suggests braiding or interweaving. They didn't just live next door; they became culturally intertwined. They started to think like Canaanites. They started to look like Canaanites.

A snare is a trap. It looks enticing—perhaps a promise of better crops or fertility—but once you step in, the steel jaws snap shut.

And now, we descend into the absolute nadir of the Old Testament. The trap snaps shut, and the price is paid in blood:

We must pause here to understand the gravity of this. The NLT translates the Hebrew word shedim as "demons." In the Ancient Near Eastern context, and specifically in the Divine Council worldview, shedim were territorial spirits—lesser divine beings that demanded blood. These were the entities behind the idols of Canaan, like Molech.

Israel, the people chosen to be the light of the world, began taking the "seed of Abraham"—the children of the promise—and burning them alive as offerings to the forces of darkness.

This is the ultimate reversal of the Abrahamic Covenant. God asked Abraham to spare Isaac; the demons asked Israel to slaughter their children.

This concept of "polluting the land" (chaneph) is vital. In the Torah (Numbers Thirty-five), the shedding of innocent blood creates a physical and spiritual toxicity in the geography itself. The land becomes "profaned." It becomes sick. When the land is filled with innocent blood, it can no longer sustain the people living on it. It eventually vomits them out.

The spiritual verdict is Adultery (literally, "whoring"). Israel was married to Yahweh by covenant. By engaging in these rituals with the shedim, they were cheating on their Husband with His cosmic enemies.

The second segment is: The Cycle of Judges: Rebellion, Ruin, and Rescue.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses forty through forty-three.

That is why the Lord’s anger burned against his people, and he abhorred his own special possession.  He handed them over to pagan nations, and those who hated them ruled over them.  Their enemies crushed them and brought them under their absolute power.  Again and again he rescued them, but they chose to rebel against him, and they were finally destroyed by their sin.

Because of this horrific betrayal, God acted.

The word "abhorred" implies deep revulsion. God looked at His "special possession" (His nachalah—inheritance) and saw it covered in the blood of children and the filth of demons. He couldn't stand the sight of it.

So, He enacted the curses of the Covenant: "He handed them over to pagan nations, and those who hated them ruled over them."

If Israel wanted to act like the nations, God let them be ruled by the nations. If they wanted to serve the gods of the Philistines or the Moabites, they would serve the armies of the Philistines and Moabites. He gave them exactly what they chose.

This section summarizes the Book of Judges. It was a washing machine cycle of history:

Sin: They rebelled.

Servitude: God handed them over.

Supplication: They cried out.

Salvation: God raised a Judge to save them.

This highlights the incredible patience of Yahweh. He didn't just save them once; He saved them repeatedly. Gideon, Samson, Jephthah, Deborah—these were all rescue missions launched by a God who refused to quit on His people.

Literally, "They sank low in their iniquity." The rescue was always temporary because the repentance was shallow. Eventually, the weight of their sin became too heavy to lift, and the bottom fell out.

The third segment is: The Covenant Memory: Relenting in Exile.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses forty-four through forty-six.

Even so, he pitied them in their distress and listened to their cries.  He remembered his covenant with them and relented because of his unfailing love.  He even caused their captors to treat them with kindness.

Here we find those two beautiful words again: "Even so..."

After the child sacrifice, after the spiritual adultery, after centuries of spitting in His face—when the final judgment came and they were dragged off into Exile (Babylon)—God still looked at them.

Why? What could possibly motivate God to look at such a rebellious people again?

It all comes back to the Covenant (Berit) and the Unfailing Love (Hesed). God is bound by His own character. He promised Abraham an everlasting line. He cannot break His word, even when His people break theirs.

The word "relented" (nacham) implies a deep emotional sigh of compassion. He looked at their suffering in Babylon, and His heart turned.

And practically, how did this mercy look? "He even caused their captors to treat them with kindness."

This is the story of Daniel, Esther, Ezra, and Nehemiah. God moved the hearts of the pagan kings—Nebuchadnezzar, Cyrus, Artaxerxes—to show favor to the exiles. Even in the land of their punishment, God was working behind the scenes to preserve a remnant.

The fourth segment is: The Final Prayer: Gather Us Home.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verse forty-seven.

Save us, O Lord our God! Gather us back from among the nations, so we can thank your holy name and rejoice and praise you.

This verse confirms the context of the psalm. It is a prayer from the Exile. The people are scattered. They are living "among the nations" (goyim).

This is the ultimate cry of the Old Testament. It is the hope that the God who scattered them in judgment will gather them in mercy.

And notice the purpose of the gathering: "...so we can thank your holy name and rejoice and praise you."

They want to come home not just to be comfortable, but to be worshippers again. They have learned, through the bitterness of Babylon, that the only thing worth living for is the praise of Yahweh. The "Golden Calves" and the "Demons of Canaan" offered them nothing but death. Now, they just want to be back in the presence of the Holy Name.

The fifth segment is: The Doxology of Book Four: The Amen of Eternity.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verse forty-eight.

Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, who lives from everlasting to everlasting! Let all the people say, "Amen!" Praise the Lord!

We arrive now at the grand finale. This verse is the Doxology that closes Book Four of the Psalms (Psalms Ninety through One Hundred Six).

"Blessed be Yahweh, the Elohim of Israel." Despite the tragic history we just read—a history of failure, blood, and exile—He is still the God of Israel. He has not abandoned the title.

This connects back to Psalm Ninety (the beginning of Book Four), which declared God as the one who is "from everlasting to everlasting." The generations of men rise and fall like grass. Nations rise and fall like the tide. But Yahweh remains. His timeline is infinite. He outlasts our rebellion. He outlasts our exile.

Amen means "It is true" or "So be it." It is the community's signature on the truth of God’s character.

"Praise the Lord!" (Hallelujah!)

Psalm One Hundred Six is a hard mirror to look into.

It forces us to confront the uncomfortable truth about human nature. We are not naturally faithful. Given enough time and comfort, we will mingle with the darkness. We will adopt the customs of the culture around us. We might not sacrifice children to Molech on a stone altar, but we sacrifice our children to the idols of success, popularity, and secularism. We pollute our own lives with compromise.

But this psalm does not end in despair. It ends with "Amen."

It ends with the assurance that God’s memory is better than ours. We forget His works; He remembers His covenant. We turn away; He relents.

The message of Book Four of the Psalms is this: When the Kingdom of Israel fails, the King of the Universe reigns. Even when the throne of David sits empty in the dust of the exile, the throne of Yahweh is established in the heavens. And because He reigns "from everlasting to everlasting," there is always hope for a return from exile.

So today, if you feel like you are in a "far country"—if you feel scattered or compromised—pray the prayer of verse forty-seven: "Save us... Gather us."

He is listening. And His love is unfailing.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps!   I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2776 of our Trek.   The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Our current series of Theology Thursday lessons is written by theologian and teacher John Daniels. I have found that his lessons are short, easy to understand, doctrinally sound, and applicable to all who desire to learn more of God’s Word. John’s lessons can be found on his website   theologyinfive.com.   Today’s lesson is titled Joseph the Dreamer: Discovering the Depths of a Beloved Biblical Figure.   

Joseph, son of Jacob and Rachel, emerges from the pages of Genesis not only as a survivor of betrayal and hardship but as a symbol of divine providence and redemptive purpose. His journey from favored son to slave, prisoner, and ultimately, savior of nations illustrates the unseen hand of God at work through suffering and humility. While many are familiar with his colorful coat and rise to power in Egypt, lesser-known elements of his life bring out the deeper beauty and significance of his character.

Joseph’s dreams and his ability to interpret them play a crucial role in his life, as well as in the survival of his family and Egypt. While his dreams of sheaves and celestial bodies bowing to him are well-known, his interpretation of the dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker is equally significant. These interpretations not only revealed divine insight but became the very means by which Joseph was elevated from prison to the highest court in the land. His gift, given by God, opened the way for his destiny to unfold.

Joseph’s encounter with Potipar’s wife, who falsely accused him of misconduct, is often highlighted as a moment of moral integrity. But it also demonstrates his unwavering faith in God. Faced with repeated temptation and the risk of losing his position, Joseph chose righteousness, which ultimately led to unjust imprisonment. Even in the dungeon, however, his faith did not falter. This period of suffering refined his character and prepared him for the weight of future authority.

Upon rising to power, Pharaoh gave Joseph an Egyptian name, Zaphenath-paneah, and a wife, Asenath, the daughter of Potiphera, priest of On (Genesis forty-one verse forty-five). These details mark Joseph’s deep assimilation into Egyptian culture and political structure. His new name, possibly meaning “God speaks and he lives,” highlighted his prophetic role. His marriage into a priestly household further established his legitimacy in the Egyptian elite.

Some might expect condemnation for such a union—after all, Potiphera was a priest of a pagan deity. Yet the biblical text offers no such rebuke. Unlike other biblical figures who compromised their faith through foreign marriages, such as Solomon, Joseph remained faithful to Yahweh. He consistently credited God for his success, named his sons in ways that reflected divine providence, and clung to God’s promises.

His marriage to Asenath, arranged by Pharaoh, served a broader purpose: the preservation of life during famine and the fulfillment of God’s plan. Far from condemnation, the silence of the text implies approval within the context of God’s sovereign orchestration.

Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, were born in Egypt and were later adopted by Jacob as his own (Genesis forty-eight verse five). When Jacob blessed them, he deliberately crossed his hands, placing his right hand on the younger Ephraim and his left on Manasseh. Joseph tried to correct him, but Jacob insisted that Ephraim would be greater.

This was not a casual or symbolic reversal. In previous instances—Isaac over Ishmael, Jacob over Esau—the firstborn was passed over for specific reasons. Isaac was the child of promise. Esau despised his birthright. In this case, there is no recorded failure in Manasseh. The reversal seems purely prophetic, a choice of God’s will rather than man’s expectations. Ephraim would go on to become the dominant tribe in the northern kingdom of Israel. This pattern affirms that God’s favor is rooted in divine purpose, not human convention.

One of the most powerful scenes in Joseph’s life is his reconciliation with his brothers. After years of separation, famine drove them to Egypt, unknowingly placing them at the mercy of the very brother they betrayed. Instead of seeking revenge, Joseph wept, embraced them, and declared, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive” (Genesis fifty verse twenty). In this moment, Joseph revealed the core truth of his life—faith in God’s providence. His forgiveness prefigured the greater forgiveness that would come through Christ.

Before his death, Joseph made his family swear that when God brought them out of Egypt, they would carry his bones with them (Genesis fifty verse twenty-five). Centuries later, Moses honored that oath (Exodus thirteen verse nineteen), and Joshua buried Joseph in Shechem (Joshua twenty-four verse thirty-two).

Though he lived most of his life as an Egyptian ruler, Joseph’s final request demonstrated his unwavering loyalty to the covenant and his belief in God’s promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. His heart remained with the people of God.

In biblical theology, a prophetic type is a real person, event, or institution in the Old Testament that prefigures and points forward to a greater fulfillment in the New Testament—often in the person and work of Jesus Christ. These types are not accidental parallels but part of God’s intentional design to weave the story of redemption across generations.

Joseph’s life points forward to the Messiah in striking ways. Rejected by his own, falsely accused, and raised up to save the nations, he serves as a type of Christ. Joseph forgives those who wronged him, provides bread for the world during famine, and becomes a mediator between his family and the throne. Like Christ, Joseph is both suffering servant and exalted savior—an early echo of the Gospel embedded in Genesis.

Joseph’s life is a story of providence, perseverance, and divine purpose. While his rise to power is dramatic, the spiritual journey behind it reveals the true greatness of his character. He trusted God in the pit, the prison, and the palace. He forgave when he could have condemned. He lived faithfully in a pagan land without compromising his devotion to Yahweh. And in death, he looked forward to the fulfillment of God’s promises. Joseph stands not only as a patriarch of Israel but as a preview of the Redeemer to come.

How do the lesser-known elements of Joseph’s life, such as his Egyptian name and wife, add depth to our understanding of his journey and identity?

In what ways does Jacob’s blessing of Joseph’s sons reflect the biblical theme of God choosing according to His purpose rather than birth order?

How does Joseph’s forgiveness of his brothers reflect divine providence and point forward to Christ?

What does Joseph’s assimilation into Egypt—and yet loyalty to Israel—teach us about living faithfully in foreign or secular cultures?

How does Joseph’s life encourage believers to trust God in the face of unjust suffering or long periods of waiting?

 

Join us next time on Theology Thursday, where our lesson will explore: A Critical Examination of Alexander Hislop: Why His Teachings Should Be Ignored

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of  ‘Wisdom-Trek,    Creating a Legacy.’        

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly,   I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.

As we take this Trek of life together, let us always:          

Liv Abundantly.        

Love Unconditionally.       

Listen Intentionally.       

Learn Continuously.       

Lend to others Generously.        

Lead with Integrity.        

Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.        

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to,   “Keep Moving Forward, Enjoy your journey, and create a great day, every day!  Join me next time for more daily wisdom!

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred seventy-five of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Today, we continue our difficult but necessary journey through Psalm One Hundred Six, trekking through the heart of the wilderness rebellion in verses thirteen through thirty-three, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek, we stood on the shores of the Red Sea. We saw the waters part, the Israelites walk through on dry ground, and the armies of Pharaoh swallowed by the deep. We ended with verse twelve, where the people finally believed God’s promises and sang His praise. It seemed like a happy ending. It seemed like the lesson had finally been learned.

But as we turn the page to verse thirteen, we discover a tragic truth about human nature: Singing on Sunday does not guarantee obedience on Monday.

The faith that is born only from seeing a miracle often dies as soon as the miracle fades from view. Today, we will witness the "Cycle of Amnesia." We will see a generation that had everything—the presence of God, the leadership of Moses, and the bread of heaven—yet threw it all away for a golden statue and a meal with demons.

We will look at the tragedy of the Golden Calf, the envy of Korah, the refusal to enter the Promised Land, and the dark idolatry of Baal-Peor. This is a heavy section, but it serves as a mirror. It forces us to ask: How quickly do we forget?

So, let us walk carefully through this catalog of rebellion, lest we repeat it.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses thirteen through fifteen.

Yet how quickly they forgot what he had done! They wouldn’t wait for his counsel!  In the wilderness their desires ran wild, testing God’s patience in that dry wasteland.  So he gave them what they asked for, but he sent a plague along with it.

The ink was barely dry on their song of praise when the amnesia set in: "Yet how quickly they forgot what he had done!"

The Hebrew phrasing here is vivid; it literally means, "They made haste to forget." They didn't just passively drift away; they rushed back to unbelief. They ignored the "counsel" of God—His plan and His timing—because they were driven by their appetites.

This refers to the incident in Numbers Chapter Eleven, where the people grew tired of the manna. The manna was the perfect, supernatural food described in Psalm One Hundred Five as the "bread of heaven." But they wanted meat. They wanted the leeks and onions of Egypt. They allowed their physical cravings to dictate their spiritual reality. They "tested God" by demanding He cater to their palate rather than trusting His provision.

And here is one of the most frightening verses in the Bible: "So he gave them what they asked for, but he sent a plague along with it."

The King James Version renders this, "He sent leanness into their soul."

God answered their prayer, but it was a judgment, not a blessing. He sent the quail—piles of meat—but while the meat was still in their teeth, a wasting disease struck them.

This teaches us a profound lesson about prayer. Just because God grants a request does not mean He approves of the heart behind it. Sometimes, the worst thing God can do is let us have our own way. We must be careful that in satisfying our flesh, we do not starve our souls.

The second segment is: The Envy of Authority: The Rebellion of Korah.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses sixteen through eighteen.

The people in the camp were jealous of Moses and envious of Aaron, the Lord’s holy priest.  Because of this, the earth opened up; it swallowed Dathan and buried Abiram and the other rebels.  Fire fell on their followers; a flame consumed the wicked.

The rebellion moves from the stomach to the ego.

This recounts the rebellion of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram in Numbers Chapter Sixteen. They looked at the leadership structure God had established and claimed it was unfair. They said, "The whole community is holy... Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord's assembly?"

They framed their rebellion as a democratic movement, but the psalmist calls it what it was: Jealousy. They wanted the priesthood for themselves. They despised the "holy priest" God had chosen.

In the Ancient Israelite worldview, the priesthood was not a career; it was a dangerous proximity to the Divine Presence. Aaron was the "Holy One of Yahweh"—set apart to handle the lethal holiness of God. By envying Aaron, Korah was trivializing the holiness of God.

The punishment was swift and terrifying: "Because of this, the earth opened up; it swallowed Dathan and buried Abiram... Fire fell on their followers."

The earth opened its mouth, and fire descended from heaven. This is de-creation language. The ground (structure) gave way, and the fire (judgment) consumed. It demonstrated that you cannot appoint yourself to leadership in God’s Kingdom. Authority is given, not grasped.

The third segment is: The Great Exchange: Trading Glory for Grass.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses nineteen through twenty-three.

The people made a calf at Mount Sinai; they bowed before an image made of gold.  They traded their glorious God for a statue of a grass-eating bull.  They forgot God, their savior, who had done such great things in Egypt,  such wonderful things in the land of Ham, such awesome deeds at the Red Sea.  So he declared he would destroy them. But Moses, his chosen one, stepped between the Lord and the people. He begged him to turn from his anger and not destroy them.

Now we reach the climax of their spiritual treason: The Golden Calf.

This happened at Mount Sinai (Horeb), the very place where they had sworn the covenant. While Moses was up on the mountain receiving the tablets of the Law, the people were down in the valley breaking the first two commandments.

The Hebrew here is devastatingly sarcastic. They exchanged their Glory (Kavod)—the radiant, uncreated weight of Yahweh’s presence—for the "likeness of an ox that eats grass."

In the Ancient Near East, bulls (like the Apis bull in Egypt) were symbols of power and fertility. But the psalmist strips away the mystique. He reminds us: "It’s a cow. It eats grass. It defecates." To trade the Creator of the stars for a barnyard animal is the ultimate insanity of idolatry.

Why did they do it? "They forgot God, their savior..."

Once again, Amnesia. They disconnected the miracles of Egypt from the Person of Yahweh. They wanted a visible god they could control, rather than an invisible God they had to obey.

God’s response was righteous wrath: "So he declared he would destroy them."

God was ready to wipe Israel out and start over with Moses. But then we see one of the greatest acts of intercession in history:

Literally, Moses "stood in the breach" (perets). Imagine a fortress wall that has been broken open by an enemy ram. The soldiers rush to stand in the gap to hold back the invasion. Moses stood in the broken wall of the covenant, facing the wrath of God, and pleaded for mercy. He saved the nation not by strength, but by intercessory prayer.

The fourth segment is: The Scorn of the Inheritance: The Refusal to Enter.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses twenty-four through twenty-seven.

The people refused to enter the pleasant land, for they wouldn’t believe his promise to care for them.  Instead, they grumbled in their tents and refused to obey the Lord.  Therefore, he solemnly swore that he would kill them in the wilderness,  that he would scatter their descendants among the nations and exile them to distant lands.

After the calf, came the spies. In Numbers Chapter Thirteen and Fourteen, the people stood on the border of Canaan.

The Hebrew word for "refused" is actually "despised" (ma’as). They looked at the inheritance God had prepared—the land flowing with milk and honey—and said, "No thanks. The giants are too big." They despised the gift because they didn't trust the Giver.

This is the sound of unbelief: murmuring. It is the quiet, poisonous talk inside the home that undermines faith.

Because they refused to enter the land, God raised His hand in an oath: "Therefore, he solemnly swore that he would kill them in the wilderness..."

That entire generation was sentenced to die in the desert. But the psalmist adds a prophetic detail: "...that he would scatter their descendants among the nations and exile them to distant lands."

This refers to the later Exile (Babylon). The psalmist connects the dots. The spirit of unbelief that started at Kadesh Barnea eventually led to the destruction of Jerusalem centuries later. Disbelief has a long, tragic echo.

The fifth segment is: The Yoke of the Dead: The Horror of Baal-Peor.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses twenty-eight through thirty-one.

Then our ancestors joined in the worship of Baal at Peor; they even ate sacrifices offered to the dead!  They angered the Lord with all these things, so a plague broke out among them.  But Phinehas had the courage to intervene, and the plague was stopped.  So he has been regarded as a righteous man ever since that time.

Near the end of the wilderness journey, another disaster struck.

The phrase "joined in" (or "yoked themselves") implies a binding covenant. They didn't just visit; they shackled themselves to Baal, the storm god of the Canaanites.

This is a chilling detail understood through the Divine Council worldview. The "dead" (metim) here likely refers not just to lifeless idols, but to the spirits of the dead or the underworld ancestors (the Rephaim) worshipped in Canaanite necromancy cults.

Israel was eating a ritual meal—a communion—with demons and the dead. They were engaging in spiritual adultery of the darkest kind, seeking life from the realm of death.

God sent a plague, but one man acted: "But Phinehas had the courage to intervene, and the plague was stopped."

Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, saw a prominent Israelite taking a Midianite princess into his tent for ritual sex right in front of the Tabernacle. In holy zeal, he took a spear and executed them both.

The text says this act "was counted to him as righteousness." This echoes Abraham’s faith. Phinehas’s zeal for God’s honor stopped the judgment. Sometimes, radical evil requires a radical stand for holiness.

The sixth segment is: The Breaking of the Leader: The Waters of Meribah.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses thirty-two through thirty-three.

At Meribah, too, they angered the Lord, causing Moses serious trouble.  They made Moses angry, and he spoke foolishly.

Finally, the psalmist recounts the tragedy of Moses.

This refers to Numbers Chapter Twenty. The people complained about water (again). God told Moses to speak to the rock. But Moses, worn down by forty years of their rebellion, struck the rock twice and shouted, "Must we bring you water out of this rock, you rebels?"

Literally, "They embittered his spirit, and he spoke rashly with his lips."

This is heartbreaking. Moses, the man who stood in the breach to save them (verse 23), was finally broken by them. The constant drip, drip, drip of their rebellion provoked the meekest man on earth to sin, costing him his entrance into the Promised Land.

It serves as a sober warning to all leaders: the sins of the people we lead can tempt us to sin ourselves. We must guard our spirits against bitterness, even when dealing with rebels.

Psalm One Hundred Six, verses thirteen through thirty-three, is a mirror we dare not look away from.

We see the cycle:

Craving: Wanting the gifts more than the Giver (The Quail).

Envy: Resenting God’s appointed order (Korah).

Idolatry: Trading Glory for a substitute (The Calf).

Disbelief: Despising the inheritance (The Spies).

Compromise: Yoking with the culture (Baal-Peor).

And through it all, we see the danger of Amnesia. They forgot God.

But we also see the power of Intercession. Moses stood in the breach. Phinehas stood up for righteousness. Even in the midst of rebellion, God looks for someone to stand in the gap.

As you walk your trek today, ask yourself: Is there a "golden calf" in my life—something tangible I trust more than the invisible God? Is there a "bitter spirit" like Moses had at Meribah?

Let us break the cycle of forgetting. Let us remember His works, trust His counsel, and enter the pleasant land He has prepared.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

 

Day 2774– The Day Mary Met Gabriel - Luke 1:26-56

Putnam Church Message – 12/07/2025

Last week, we continued our year-long study of Luke’s Narrative of the Good News in a message titled: “A Baby at our Age? Get Serious!”

This week is the second Sunday of Advent, which is Peace, as we continue to build anticipation of the coming Messiah. Today's passage is the story of: “The Day Mary Met Gabriel.” – Peace in the Unexpected. Our Core verses for this week will be Luke 1:26-56, found on page 1588 of your Pew Bibles.

47     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

48 for he has been mindful

of the humble state of his servant.

From now on all generations will call me blessed,

49     for the Mighty One has done great things for me—

holy is his name.

50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,

from generation to generation.

51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;

he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.

52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones

but has lifted up the humble.

53 He has filled the hungry with good things

but has sent the rich away empty.

54 He has helped his servant Israel,

remembering to be merciful

55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,

just as he promised our ancestors.”

teach us how to trust You when life does not go according to our plans.

Calm our fears, quiet our hearts, and let the Prince of Peace reign in us today.

Amen.

Advent is traditionally a season of hope, peace, joy, and love.

But if we’re honest, many of us come into this season with anything but peace.

Our news feeds are full of conflict.

Our homes may carry unspoken tension.

Our minds are cluttered with anxieties about health, finances, family, or the future.

Into that kind of world, /God sent His Son, /not into a stable culture, /not into calm politics, /not into a peaceful, quiet time… but into a world under Roman occupation, under Herodian cruelty, into a little backwater village that no one expected anything from. And into that world, God sent a message of peace to a young woman named Mary.

Luke 1:26–56 shows us not just what God did through Mary, but what God wants to do in us—how He brings His peace into fearful, confusing, unexpected places.

“In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a village in Galilee…” (Luke 1:26 NLT)

If you were planning the arrival of the Messiah, you might choose Jerusalem—the temple, the priests, the center of power. God chose Nazareth—a tiny, unimportant village in Galilee.

For many Jews, “Nazareth” was a joke. Later, Nathanael will say,  “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46).

That is the setting. /And into that setting, the angel Gabriel is sent—not to a queen, not to a priest, not to a scribe, but to a young, unknown, poor girl.

Luke is careful to emphasize Mary’s humility and ordinariness:

She is from a small, overlooked town.

She is a virgin, betrothed, waiting for the final stage of marriage.

She has no status, no wealth, no platform.

And then the angel appears: “Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you!” (Luke 1:28 NLT)

Those words are not about Mary’s greatness. They are about God’s grace.

The Greek grammar behind “favored woman” implies a completed action done to her—she is not the source of grace; she is the recipient of grace, just like us.

Mary’s Inner Dialogue (Ancient Perspective) Put yourself in her sandals for a moment: “Why is an angel talking to me? I’m just a village girl. I’m not from Jerusalem, not from a priestly family. I don’t have anything to offer…”

And Heaven answers: “That’s exactly the point. It’s not about what you bring to God—it’s about what God brings to you.”

Modern Parallel: We may think, “I’m too ordinary. /My job is small. /My house is simple. /My life is not impressive.” And God says: “I’m not looking for impressive. / I’m looking for willing. / The Lord is with you.”

Hold up a simple clay jar—plain, rough, unimpressive.  Explain: “If I were going to store something valuable, I’d choose a strong safe, a locked vault, a beautiful container.

But God says: ‘We have this treasure in jars of clay…’ (2 Corinthians 4:7).

Why? This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

“Confused and disturbed, Mary tried to think what the angel could mean.” (Luke 1:29 NLT)

Mary is not a stained-glass statue. She is a real young woman, probably a teenager, who is suddenly confronted with a heavenly messenger and a life-changing announcement. /Her initial response? Not serene calm. Not instant composure. She is confused and disturbed.

And the angel says what angels so often say when God steps into human fear: “Don’t be afraid, Mary…” (Luke 1:30 NLT) “Do not be afraid” does not mean “There’s nothing scary here.”  /It means, “There is something scary—but I will be with you in it.”

We must remember the cultural context:

Mary is betrothed, which was more binding than our modern engagement.

Betrothal could only be ended by divorce.

A pregnancy discovered during betrothal suggested adultery—

which could lead to public shame, rejection, or even stoning (Deut. 22:23–24).

So when Gabriel says: “You will conceive and give birth to a son… and you will name him Jesus.” (1:31)

Mary cannot be naïve. She likely feels a tidal wave of thoughts:

“What will Joseph do?

What will my parents think?

Will anyone believe me?

Could this cost me my life?”

And into that swirl of fear, the angel says: “Do not be afraid… You have found favor with God.” (1:30)

In Hebrew, Gethsemane means “olive press.” To get oil, olives are crushed under tremendous pressure.

Ancient teachers would say: “The more the olive is pressed, the more precious its oil.”

In the same way, God’s people are often pressed—not to destroy them, but to release something precious.

Mary is about to enter her own Gethsemane of misunderstanding and pressure.

Peace does not mean she will avoid the press;  it means God will be with her in it.

Tell the story of the airplane in heavy turbulence. Passengers grip their armrests, and some begin to cry. The plane jolts; drinks spill. But a small boy is calm, quietly coloring in his seat. A woman finally asks, “Aren’t you afraid?”

He smiles and says: “No ma’am. My dad is flying the plane.”

That is a picture of Advent peace. Not the absence of turbulence—but trust in Who is in control.

Place two small toy boats in a tub of water.

One is empty and light—it tips and flips with every splash.

The other has a small weight inside—it rocks, but stays upright.

Explain:

“Life’s waves hit everyone—believers and unbelievers alike. The difference is not the size of the storm; it’s the weight inside. The peace of Christ becomes that weight, keeping us from capsizing.”

After Mary’s honest question— “How can this happen? I am a virgin” (1:34)—

Gabriel answers: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the baby to be born will be holy, and he will be called the Son of God.” (1:35 NLT)

He doesn’t answer every question she might have. He doesn’t lay out the whole timeline, or how Joseph will respond, or what Nazareth will say, or how she will explain this to her parents.

He simply gives her what she needs to know:

This will be God’s work, not yours.

The Holy Spirit will do what is humanly impossible.

This child will be holy, the Son of God.

And to strengthen her, He mentions Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy and says:

“For nothing is impossible with God.” (1:37 NLT)

Mary then displays one of the most beautiful responses in all of Scripture:

“Mary responded, ‘I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.’” (1:38 NLT)

She does not say:

“Let me think about it.”

“Give me a week.”

“Tell me how this will all work out first.”

She chooses to surrender before certainty.

We can almost hear a deeper conversation in her heart: “Lord, I don’t understand this fully. I know this will be difficult. I know I may be misunderstood, misjudged, even rejected. But I trust You more than I trust my plans. I am Yours.”

And God’s response: “You will not avoid pain, Mary. But you will never be alone. And through your obedience, My peace and My salvation will come into the world.”

That is the heart of Advent peace: Not the absence of cost, but the presence of God in the cost.

Illustration – The Locked Door. (Far Side Cartoon) Imagine someone pushing on a door with all their strength. They strain, sweat, and get frustrated. Finally, someone comes beside them and points to the sign: “Pull, don’t push.”

We often push against circumstances, trying to control everything:

“If I push harder, I can make this work.” “If I worry more, maybe I can prevent something bad.”

Peace comes when we stop pushing and start surrendering.

Hold a small seed in a tightly closed fist. “As long as my hand is clenched, the seed cannot be planted, cannot grow, cannot bear fruit.”

Now open your hand. “Surrender is like this. When we open our hands to God, His peace and His purposes can take root in us.”

Mary doesn’t stay in Nazareth. She travels south, into the hill country of Judea, to visit her cousin Elizabeth. When Mary calls out a greeting, Elizabeth’s baby (John) leaps in her womb, and Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit.

She cries out:

“God has blessed you above all women, and your child is blessed.” (1:42 NLT)

Elizabeth confirms everything God has spoken to Mary—without Mary even explaining.

Imagine how that must have felt. Back in Nazareth, people will doubt her story.

Rumors will spread. Questions will arise.

But in Elizabeth’s home, she is believed, blessed, and encouraged.

“You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.” (1:45 NLT)

Encouraged and confirmed, Mary responds not with analysis, but with worship.

She sings the beautiful song we call The Magnificat (1:46–55).

What’s remarkable is when she sings it:

Joseph still hasn’t processed this fully (that will come in Matthew 1).

Her family and community haven’t agreed with her.

Her future still contains much uncertainty.

But Mary has heard from God.  She has surrendered. She has been confirmed by a godly friend. And now, before anything is resolved, she praises.

“Oh, how my soul praises the Lord. How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior!” (1:46–47 NLT)

Throughout Scripture:

Moses sang after the Red Sea parted.

Hannah sang after Samuel was born.

David sang after

Zachariah Prophecy Song after the birth of John the Baptizer

Mary sings before the resolution because peace has taken root in her heart.

She rejoices:

That God sees the humble.

That God scatters the proud.

That God lifts the lowly.

That God keeps His promises to Israel.

Mary does not magnify herself.  She magnifies the Lord.

“He made this promise to our ancestors, to Abraham and his children forever.” (1:55 NLT)

Ring the Bell

Explain: “No matter how noisy the room is, this bell’s ring holds a pure...

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred seventy-three of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title for today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The History of Rebellion – Grace at the Brink of the Sea.  

Today, we stand at a pivotal junction in the book of Psalms. We are beginning our journey through Psalm One Hundred Six, covering the opening movement, verses one through twelve, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous treks through Psalm One Hundred Five, we walked through the glittering gallery of Israel's history. We saw the faithfulness of God in calling Abraham, protecting the patriarchs, and bringing the nation out of Egypt loaded with silver and gold. It was a history written in major chords—a celebration of God’s unbreakable promise and Israel’s triumph.

But today, the music changes. Psalm One Hundred Six covers the exact same historical period—the Exodus and the Wilderness—but it tells the story from the dark side. If Psalm One Hundred Five was about God’s Faithfulness, Psalm One Hundred Six is about Israel’s Faithlessness.

It is a corporate confession. It admits that while God was remembering His covenant, the people were busy forgetting His miracles. It strips away the nostalgia and exposes the ugly truth: we are a people prone to rebellion.

Yet, strangely, this dark confession begins with a shout of praise. Why? Because the only thing stronger than human rebellion is God’s "Unfailing Love."

So, let us look in the mirror of history and see if we recognize ourselves in the rebels at the Red Sea.

The first segment is: The Hallelujah of the Sinner: Acknowledging Goodness.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses one through three.

Praise the Lord! Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.  Who can list the glorious miracles of the Lord? Who can ever praise him enough?  There is joy for those who deal justly with others and always do what is right.

The psalm opens with the same word that ended the previous psalm: "Hallelujah!" ("Praise the Lord!").

Even though the psalmist is about to recount a litany of national failures, he starts with the character of God: "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever."

The word for "faithful love" is our covenant friend, Hesed. This is the anchor. The psalmist knows that if God’s love were not enduring—if it were based on performance—Israel would have been wiped out long ago. He praises God before he confesses, because God’s goodness provides the safety to be honest about our sin.

He then asks a rhetorical question: "Who can list the glorious miracles of the Lord? Who can ever praise him enough?"

This links us back to Psalm One Hundred Five, where the psalmist did exactly that—he listed the miracles. But here, he admits that the list is inexhaustible. God’s "glorious miracles" (literally, "mighty deeds" or gevurot) are beyond human calculation.

Verse three provides a beatitude: "There is joy for those who deal justly with others and always do what is right."

This sets the standard. God is looking for a people who practice justice (mishpat) and righteousness (tsedakah). As we will see, this highlights the tragedy of Israel’s history—they were saved to be righteous, but they constantly chose rebellion. The psalmist acknowledges the ideal before confessing the reality.

The second segment is: The Personal Plea: Include Me in the Rescue.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses four through five.

Remember me, Lord, when you show favor to your people; come near and rescue me.  Let me share in the prosperity of your chosen ones. Let me rejoice in the joy of your people; let me praise you with those who are your heritage.

Before diving into the history lesson, the psalmist interrupts with a deeply personal prayer.

He doesn't want to be a mere historian; he wants to be a participant. He asks to be included in the "favor" (ratson) shown to the nation.

Notice the terms he uses for the community:

"Your people" (ammeka)

"Your chosen ones" (bechireka)

"Your heritage" (nachalatek)

These are covenant terms. "Heritage" is particularly significant in the Divine Council worldview. It refers to the fact that while the other nations were allotted to the sons of God, Israel is Yahweh’s personal portion (Deuteronomy Thirty-two: nine). The psalmist is saying, "Lord, don't leave me out. When you bless your own allotment, make sure I am standing in the stream of blessing."

He wants to "share in the prosperity" (literally, "see the good") of the chosen. He wants to move from being an observer of God’s work to being a beneficiary of it.

The third segment is: The Confession Begins: Amnesia in Egypt.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verses six through seven.

Like our ancestors, we have sinned. We have done wrong! We have acted wickedly!  Our ancestors in Egypt were not impressed by your miraculous deeds. They soon forgot your many acts of kindness to them. Instead, they rebelled against the Most High at the Red Sea.

Now, the tone shifts dramatically. The psalmist identifies himself with the sins of the past.

This is a threefold confession of guilt, mirroring the high priestly confession on the Day of Atonement. He is not saying, "Those people back then were bad." He is saying, "We are just like them. The apple has not fallen far from the tree."

He then pinpoints the origin of this rebellion: "Our ancestors in Egypt were not impressed by your miraculous deeds."

Literally, "They did not understand" or "They did not consider wisely."

In Psalm One Hundred Five, we read about the plagues—the water turning to blood, the darkness, the hail. You would think these events would create unshakable faith. But the psalmist tells us that the Israelites saw the fireworks but missed the theology. They saw the power, but they didn't understand the person.

This is the fatal flaw: Amnesia. They forgot the Hesed (kindness/love). The moment the pressure was on, the memory of God’s goodness evaporated.

The specific location of this rebellion is crucial: "Instead, they rebelled against the Most High at the Red Sea."

The text refers to the "Red Sea" (literally Yam Suph or Sea of Reeds). In Exodus Fourteen, when the Israelites saw Pharaoh’s army approaching and the sea in front of them, they didn't pray; they panicked. They screamed at Moses, "Were there no graves in Egypt that you brought us out here to die?"

The psalmist calls this what it is: Rebellion. They were rebelling against the Most High (Elyon). By despairing, they were essentially saying that Pharaoh’s chariots were stronger than the Most High God. They were doubting the supremacy of Yahweh.

The fourth segment is: The Rescue: For the Sake of the Name.

Psalm One Hundred Six: verse eight.

Even so, he saved them for his name’s sake, to demonstrate his mighty power.

This verse contains the most powerful two words in the gospel: "Even so..." (or "Nevertheless").

God did not save them because they were faithful. He didn't save them because they were brave. He saved them despite their rebellion. Why?

This brings us deep into the Divine Council worldview. God’s "Name" is His reputation among the nations and the spiritual powers.

If God had let Israel die on the banks of the Red Sea, the Egyptians—and their gods—would have claimed victory. They would have said, "Yahweh could get them out of Egypt, but He couldn't get them across the water. Our god Yam (the Sea) was too strong for Him."

God saved them to protect His own reputation. He had to vindicate His claim to be the Most High. He acted to "demonstrate his mighty power" (literally, "to make known His might"). The salvation of Israel was not just an act of love; it was a cosmic press release. It proved to the watching world—and the watching angels—that Yahweh is the undefeated Warrior.

The fifth segment is: The Rebuke of the Chaos Waters.

He commanded the Red Sea to dry up, and he led Israel across the sea as if it were a desert.  So he rescued them from their enemies and redeemed them from their foes.  Then the water returned and covered their enemies; not one of them survived.  Then his people believed his promises. Then they sang his praise.

The method of the rescue is described in language reminiscent of creation myths, but repurposed for history.

The word "commanded" here is actually "rebuked" (ga’ar). This is warrior language. In the ancient Near East, the Sea (Yam) was often personified as a chaos monster or a rival god. In creation accounts, the deity battles the sea to establish dry land.

Here, Yahweh rebukes the Red Sea just as He rebuked the primeval waters in Psalm One Hundred Four. He yells at the water, and it dries up.

This emphasizes the totality of the miracle. They didn't wade through mud. They walked through the "deep" (tehom)—the scary abyss—as if it were the dry wilderness. God transformed the geography of chaos into a highway of safety.

The water that obeyed Yahweh refused to obey Pharaoh. The "enemies" (the haters) and the "foes" (the hostile ones) were swallowed by the very chaos they tried to use against Israel. This was the final blow to the might of Egypt. The agents of the "throne of destruction" were uncreated by the collapsing waters.

And finally, the reaction: "Then his people believed his promises. Then they sang his praise."

Note the word "Then."   They believed after they saw the dead bodies on the shore. They sang after the danger was past.

While this was a moment of genuine worship—referring to the Song of Moses in Exodus Fifteen—the psalmist includes a subtle critique. Their faith was reactive, not proactive. They rebelled before the miracle (verse 7) and believed only after the miracle (verse 12).

This kind of faith—sight-based faith—is fragile. As we will see in the next podcast, it didn't last long. "They soon forgot."

Psalm One Hundred Six, verses one through twelve, sets the stage for a tragic story, but it also establishes the ground of our hope.

It teaches us that we are prone to forget God's kindness the moment we face an obstacle. We are prone to panic and rebellion at the edge of the sea. We are prone to doubt the Most High.

But it also teaches us that God is Good and His love is Unfailing.   He saves us not because our faith is perfect, but "for His name's sake." He saves us because He has staked His reputation on our redemption. He rebukes the chaos in our lives so that He can display His mighty power.

So today, as you walk your trek, do not wait until the battle is over to believe. Do not wait until you see the solution to sing. Learn the lesson of the Red Sea: Trust the God who rebukes the waters before they part.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!