Tag: Psalm

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Delighting in Wondrous Things

A white-washed church with a blue top 
Psalm 119:18 (ESV)—Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law.

A paved path of cobblestones and marble winds through the white-washed buildings in Fira. The Aegean blue rooftops and yellow and red bougainvillea add pops of color to the white landscape. Shop owners greet passersby while setting up displays of scarves, clothing, and jewelry, and restaurant managers beckon the tourists to eat at their establishments. The photo-perfect Greek experience spills before the tourist’s eyes while they wander the town and gaze toward Oia in the distance.

This characteristic picture of Greece, all white-washed buildings and blue rooftops, is pretty but inadequate to represent the whole country. There is more than picturesque Santorini when we open our travel schedule to the whole country: olive groves in the countryside, the colorful medieval village of Nafplio, rock formations topped with monasteries in Meteora, not to mention Athens.

As in travel, opening our eyes to the “wondrous things” helps us discover an all-powerful God who wants his servants to find delight in obeying his Word. The psalmist in Psalm 119 expressed desire to keep God’s word and counted himself as insufficient to see the wondrous things in God’s law without God’s guidance.

Like the psalmist, we are inadequate to understand God’s statutes without his sufficiency. God teaches us Truth to ingrain in us a longing to obey his perfect Word. In this, our obedient relationship, God reveals the wondrous things of his law—a generous Father who wants us to see his sufficiency.

Without God, the wondrous things of his law remain hidden. To see these Truths and delight in his law, we can admit our inadequacy to God and then commit to studying his Word. Our study may include praying for understanding before and after we read his words, studying the context of scripture, and reading commentaries to clarify his messages. This deeper learning strengthens our relationship with God, who shows goodness to his obedient servants.

A cafe in Nafplio with a pink exterior and bougainvillea hanging against the wall
Nafplio
A cityscape of Athens from on top of a hill, looking out to sea
Athens
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Seeking the Fruit on the Branches

Grove of orange trees with fruit on the ground and among the branches 
Psalm 119:17 (ESV)—Deal bountifully with your servant, that I may live and keep your word.

The oranges on the ground beneath the trees in the National Garden beckoned my stomach to growl. Saliva filled my mouth, an image of that morning’s orange pie stamping itself on my brain. I wondered out loud to my husband, “Do you think it’s okay to pick it up and eat it, or will I get in trouble?”

Why did I wonder this? Because we were strolling next to the Greek Parliament building and my mind conjured the fruit police swooping in. And, quite honestly, I thought it a waste to let the fruit sit on the ground and rot. Why let the ants devour it when the sweet citrus could fill my belly instead?

My stomach had the wrong idea, though. Why was I seeking the fruit on the ground when the tree still nourished the fruit hanging from the branches? The spiritual answer to this question comes from Psalm 119.

In this praise-filled poem, the anonymous writer extolled the transformative power of obeying God’s decrees when, post-exile, many of the people of Israel still sought the fruit on the ground (idols, for one) rather than the fruit in the tree (God’s promise of redemption and restoration).

Like the poet, we share a relationship with the Lord and become beneficiaries of his promises by putting his principles into practice. Our inheritance includes the benefit of his wisdom, which helps us understand why we’re obeying him.

Truly, seeking the fruit hanging from the branches fills us with the confidence to obey our kind, generous, and merciful God. Seeking him is as simple as turning to the Bible for guidance, asking the advice of a trusted fellow Christian, or praying—because God is waiting for us to open the page, ask the question, or make the request so he can answer.

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Crying Out to God

A dilapitated door with a hole in the middle that shows a dilapidated building 
Psalm 31:21-23 (ESV)—Blessed be the Lord, for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me when I was in a besieged city. I had said in my alarm, “I am cut off from your sight.” But you heard the voice of my pleas for mercy when I cried to you for help.

Her distress tolled like a battle cry in the airplane cabin. A few hours into a ten-hour flight from Chicago to Athens, the toddler sitting behind me bolted from her seat into the aisle, screaming, “I don’t want to go to bed; I want to walk around!” Though her parents sat her back down and tried to console her, she resisted bedtime with resounding cries and rambunctious seat kicks.

And she’s not alone in her feelings. In Psalm 31, David remembered feeling abandoned while in a “besieged city” and recounted his initial response: “I am cut off from your sight.” His fear assailed him like the despair a child felt when not sleeping in her own bedroom.

Thankfully, hopelessness and alarm do not have to rule over us. An honest, open relationship with God places us in the protection of his grace and mercy. We can pray to him and know he’ll hear and respond.

Because of this knowledge, we do not have to hunker down in fear of the besiege happening around us. Our alarm is not a signal to dive for cover; it is a sign to call out to God. Our prayer can be “I want to walk with you” rather than “I am cut off from your sight.”

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Writing for God

I please God with my writing
Psalm 19:14 (ESV)—Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Let’s pray this verse

  • when we feel discouraged in our writing progress,
  • when we receive a rejection,
  • when we have a message to share but not the words to put on paper,

or

  • when we write with ease,
  • when we make the biblical connection in hours rather than days, and
  • when we receive an acceptance.

May we strive for our words to be acceptable in God’s sight.

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Allowing God to Lift Us

Devils Tower National Monument in the background of a grove of pine trees.
Psalm 27:5 (ESV)—For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock.

Though there are many formation theories of Devils Tower National Monument, my favorite is the Native American belief the Great Spirit made the rock rise from the ground to save a pair of girls running from giant bears. The steep rock lifted the girls too high for the bears to climb and the striations in the rocks are claw marks from the bears trying to chase the girls. (See the NPS website for the complete story and other stories.)

Like the Great Spirit, God lifts us from danger to put us in a place of safety. He lifted Noah and his family in an ark to survive the flood. He lifted people from the alienating bonds of sickness. He even lifted people from death.

Because God has our best in mind, we can trust he will lift us high on a rock in times of tension. In this safe space, we experience comfort in loss, celebration in overcoming, peace amid anxiousness, love during loneliness, and release of fear.

For these things and so much more, our God is worthy of praise. Today, let’s tell him the strife we’re facing and allow him to lift us high upon a rock.

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Finding Peace for Our Sins

A raccoon climbing a deck fence. On the deck, in front of the raccoon, is a trash can.
A raccoon sitting on a trash can in front of the lid.
A raccoon emerging from the trash can with a piece of food in its mouth.
Psalm 51:11–13 (ESV)—Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.

A beautiful day beckoned with sunshine and seventy-degree weather. So my husband and I drove to a local state park, where we established ourselves on the dock, with camping chairs and books.

A few chapters into my book, I heard a shuffle that stole my attention from reading. Given no other people on the dock with us, I turned my head toward the sound.

A raccoon climbed onto the top of the trash can, pressed open the lid, disappeared inside, and came out dragging trash and discarded food. It hauled its meal into the overgrowth of trees and bushes.

Not a long time later, it emerged again, head peeking out from tall grasses. The creature scurried the same path to the trash can, climbed the wooden railings and onto the receptacle, then pushed open the door and emerged once again.

Watching this masked bandit, I thought it seemed ultra familiar with the location and ins and outs of this receptacle. Now, I wonder about the health of this (undeniably cute) trash thief. It takes the path back and forth from human food to natural home in the trees. The food fills its stomach, but it doesn’t receive its daily nutritional needs.

Like the raccoon, I sometimes find myself digging in the trash (metaphorically, of course) to try to find sustenance. For example, after a vacation, my hubby and I often hash out our trip. “What could have gone better” is an often-discussed topic, like that bedroom in the shared condo where we had to walk into the hallway for the bathroom. Affordable but awkward, to say the least. By the end of our nitpicking, I usually end up with a furrowed brow and a bad feeling. Not good for my mental health, for certain.

Our spiritual health also suffers when we try to find nutrition in the past rather than in the present in the presence of God. When we pull a sin from the trash, we’re tempted to pick it apart and mull over the negative aspects. Going back and forth to the same thing over and over again isn’t healthy.

Fortunately, this psalm of David shows us a better way of examining our sin: in light of God’s mercy and grace. Our past sins don’t hold us in the past but rather, when treated properly, sustain our spirit now and in the future. Our repentance puts praise on our tongues that can motivate others to seek the same forgiveness. A lesson that reaches further than any nitpicking of “what could have gone better.”

The better is in the sustenance of the Spirit, and only God’s love and mercy can help us find peace for our sins.

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Abiding in the Valley

Mountain valley covered in snow in the Swiss Alps
A building set in a mountain valley with a stream running through, located below the Ebenalp mountain peak in Switzerland.
Psalm 23:4 (ESV)—Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Many a valley has captured my attention. I’ve hiked the hills of Glenwood Springs, Colorado, gazing down on yellow aspens in the fall. In Switzerland, I’ve gawked at the Alps from a train car winding its way through the rugged mountains, the valley views spectacular from above and below. I’ve sat in the passenger seat while my husband drove us on the winding Pacific Coast Highway, traveling from valley through clouds and above the clouds, the white floor stretching out like a vast flatland meadow.

Valleys give us good reason to not fear “the valley of the shadow of death.” The valley is alive with God’s creation. The trees provide the oxygen we need to live; bathe us in shade on hot summer days; and of course give us a tangible, up-close picture of God’s creation. Clouds can warm the earth at night, protect us from the sun’s heat during the day, cast rain on the earth, and warn of inclement weather.

The valley also plays host to God’s people, and God uses the valley to protect and provide for his people. For example, in the story of Isaac and Abimelek, Isaac moved to the Valley of Gerar, after the Philistines filled the wells of his father, Abraham. Isaac’s people dug more wells, but others disputed ownership of the first two. The third, undisputed by others, “he named it Rehoboth, saying, ‘Now the Lord has given us room and we will flourish in the land’” (Genesis 26:22).

The valley, though sometimes shaded with our troubles, also offers hope. From the valley, we can move our gaze upward to our Father and pray for his provision and protection. Indeed, when we feel as if we’re in a valley, we can “abide in the shadow of the Almighty,” our “refuge and fortress” (Psalm 91:1–2).