Everyone who cried out was lifted by God’s lovingkindness. None deserved it. None knew how to receive it. None could have done it themselves. They simply, humbly cried out, and God lovingly, kindly helped them.

One of the richest words used in the Old Testament Hebrew is “hesed” or “chesed,” often translated “lovingkindness.” It is used 250 times in the Old Testament and most often used to describe God Himself. It is defined this way:
LOYAL LOVE: an unfailing kind of love, kindness, or goodness, often used of God’s love that is related to faithfulness to his covenant. Mercy, compassion.
It is not merely love, but loyal love; not merely kindness, but dependable kindness; not merely affection, but affection that has committed itself.
Psalm 107 calls us to “consider the lovingkindness of the Lord” (Vs. 43). Each paragraph illustrates God’s lovingkindness to a different group of people, always people who did not deserve it. See if these describe you right now or have in the past.
The Wandering
Those who “wandered in the wilderness in a desert region … they were hungry and thirsty and their soul fainted within them” (Vs. 4-5).
The Imprisoned
“Those who dwelt in darkness and in the shadow of death, prisoners in misery and chains because they had rebelled against the words of God and spurned the counsel of the Most High. Therefore He humbled their heart with labor” (Vs. 10-12).
The Foolish
“Fools, because of their rebellious way and because of their iniquities” (Vs. 17).
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Better than the awkward desperation of “cool Christianity” is the quiet confidence of faithful Christianity. More compelling than any celebrity pastor or bespoke packaging is a church’s steady, committed, hand-to-the-plow presence that creates lasting change for the better in lives and communities.
At the beginning of the 21st century, “relevance” became the prevailing buzzword in Western evangelical Christianity. Sensing new urgency to make the gospel more appealing to the next generation—which polls showed were leaving faith in greater numbers—pastors, church leaders, and Christian influencers tried to rebrand faith. This was the era of Relevant magazine’s launch, Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz, and Rob Bell’s ascent as a sort of evangelical Steve Jobs. It was the moment when plaid, skinny jeans, beards, and tattoos became the pastor’s unofficial uniform. It was a public-relations effort to pitch a less legalistic, friendlier-to-culture, “emergent” faith that was far from the dusty religion of your grandparents.
I chronicled this awkward era in painstaking detail in Hipster Christianity: When Church and Cool Collide, which released 10 years ago this month. In many ways the book is a quaint relic by now—a time capsule of a certain segment of evangelicalism at the turn of the millennium. But the book’s dated nature proves the point I was trying to make—that “cool Christianity” is, if not an oxymoron, at least an exercise in futility. A relevance-focused Christianity sows the seeds of its own obsolescence. Rather than rescuing or reviving Christianity, hipster faith shrinks it to the level of consumer commodity, as fickle and fleeting as the latest runway fashion. To locate Christianity’s relevance in its ability to find favor among the “cool kids”—just the latest in a long history of evangelical obsession with image—is seriously misguided.
Here are a few reasons why.
Chasing ‘Relevance’ Is Exhausting and Unsustainable
As I write in the final chapter, it’s problematic to assume that true relevance means constantly keeping up with the trends and “meeting the culture where it’s at”:
This mindset assumes no one will listen to us if we aren’t loud and edgy; no one will take us seriously if we aren’t conversant with culture; and no one will find Jesus interesting unless he is made to fit the particularities of the zeitgeist. But this sort of “relevance” is defined chiefly and inextricably by the one thing Christianity resolutely defeats: impermanence. Things that are permanent are not faddish or fickle or trendy. They are solid. . . . True relevance lasts.
My argument centered around the inherent transience of “cool” that makes “cool Christianity” unsustainable by definition. Today’s hip, cover-boy pastor is tomorrow’s has-been. This year’s fast-growing, bustling-with-20-somethings cool church is next year’s “I used to go there” old news. Near instant obsolescence is baked into the system of hipster Christianity (or hipster anything). It’s telling that the majority of the “hip Christian figureheads” I profiled in the book are now far off the radar of evangelical influence. Donald Miller is a marketing consultant. Mark Driscoll’s Seattle megahurch dissolved. Rob Bell is a new-age guru endorsed by Oprah and Elizabeth Gilbert. And so forth. That many of the names and trends highlighted in Hipster Christianity a mere decade ago are now nearly forgotten (and would be replaced with a whole new set of personalities and trends today) proves the book’s point.
I know a few people who have stayed in hip churches for most of the last decade, but many more have moved on to another (usually liturgical and refreshingly boring) church. Others have left Christianity entirely. Turns out a church that seemed super cool to your 23-year-old self may not be appealing to your 33-year-old, professional-with-kids self. Turns out a church preaching sermons about “God in the movies!” more than the doctrine of the atonement doesn’t serve you well in the long run. Turns out a pastor you can drink with, smoke with, and watch Breaking Bad with is not as important as a pastor whose uncool holiness might—just might—push you to grow in Christlikeness yourself.
David Wells has it right, in The Courage to Be Protestant, when he says:

Mediate upon your glorious God and how His character is perfectly matched to meet your need. Then have a single-minded devotion for the LORD to be glorified even in your troubles. That is the pathway to be troubled and thankful. At the end of the day, although David’s trouble was great, he saw his God as greater.  And although his affliction was heavy, he saw the glory of God to be weightier. This is what enabled David to give thanks in his trouble.

A few years ago, I read a news report about a woman who had been kicked off her airline flight because her “emotional support pig” became disruptive. The article explained that support animals had become an increasingly common way for people to cope with stress. Now, I do not know whether such a thing is helpful. In fact, since reading that report, it crossed my mind while flying that I would prefer a support pig in the seat next to me instead of the current occupant. But what I do know is that people are looking for any and every way to cope with life’s troubles.
For many, holidays are a mixture of joy and sadness. For some, a loved one died around a holiday or it is the first holiday since he or she passed. That memory becomes an ever-present reality amidst all the festivities. For others, the holidays reopen the wounds of a strained or broken relationship. Whatever the case may be, many people find themselves feeling troubled during the holidays. Therefore, how should Christians process the stress and heartaches of life, especially as we approach a holiday like Thanksgiving? How do I give thanks when my spirit is deeply troubled?
The good news is that Scripture offers us a surer and a more lasting way to respond to the troubles in our life. As I have faced my own trials, Psalm 86 has been of great encouragement to me.
Psalm 86
David’s psalm has a solemn and somber mood to it. It is called a psalm of lament. David feels alone, isolated, and troubled. He ultimately cries out for God’s help and deliverance. The specific trouble is not revealed until verse 14 where David announces that there are men seeking to kill him.
Now, this should cause us to pay close attention because David’s trouble is not a trivial thing. Whatever your trouble may be, it is likely that it is not someone trying to take your life. My point is not to say, “Whatever trouble you’re facing, David had it worse.” One answer the world gives to cope with our problems is to remind us that there is always someone who has it worse. But that is not my intention, nor is it the way Scripture addresses our troubles. I do not seek to diminish or dismiss whatever trouble you are facing right now, but to emphasize that David’s example can encourage you because he is in a very dark place. And if God can help David there, he can surely help you wherever you are.
Furthermore, amid men seeking to kill him, David is brought to say, “I will give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with all my heart” (v. 12). And this thanksgiving is expressed to the Lord before David tells the Lord what troubles him or before he asks the Lord to be delivered from his plight. He is troubled and thankful.
But how do we get there? Well, David shows us the way.
David Meditates Upon His Need for the LORD
Even though David feels overwhelmed by his circumstances, he is driven to God in prayer. What is remarkable about his prayer is how long it takes him to give the details of his problem. I often find the first thing I do is express my problem to God. But that is not where David begins.
In verses 1-4, David recognizes his needy condition and comes to God in complete and utter dependence. He knows there is nothing he can do for himself and comes like a child to his father who knows there is no one else who can truly help him.
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