REMEMBERING....

Okay, so I'm a Mom Photoholic. The short hall between bedrooms and living room in my home is a portrait gallery, with family photos nearly all the years since our 1981 marriage. Yep, wedding photo, then with a newborn and then a second baby, all the way through their graduations, weddings and grandchildren. Some were taken by local photographers (like ones who long-ago worked out of corners of Wal-Mart, Penney's, and Sears!). Others came off personal cameras. My “recliner-rocker,” diagonally across the living room, has a full view of the “gallery.” Just about every day, from my recliner viewpoint, I look across and silently pray, “Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness of 'family.'”

The last “family photo” was taken three months before my husband died. But that doesn't mean more “family chapters” aren't being written. Recently in reading Psalm 143, I paused at this verse:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (Psalm 143:5)

What's not being captured on a camera is still being captured in my heart.

In reading psalms, I'm mindful of the beginning attributions of many chapters. Psalm 143 doesn't have one but it speaks plaintively in verse 3 of being pursued by an enemy and having to “dwell in darkness” (likely meaning a cave). Obviously, David's referring to being pursued by murder-focused King Saul. But that verse is followed up by one beginning “I remember,” quoted above.

Despite his dire circumstances, David wasn't stuck in memories of “life the way it used to be.” He admitted feeling glum and weary of his negative circumstances:

Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit faints with longing. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. (v. 7)

BUT....he quickly switches to hope:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” (v. 8)

The contrasts of hopelessness and hope, of dark and light, endear this psalm to me. I haven't had to literally hide in a cave from an enemy. (The closest I got to a “cave” were two “basement bedroom” living situations when I was still single!) But I've endured difficult life chapters with challenging people. At such times I understood and claimed David's closing verse in that psalm:

For your name's sake; O LORD, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies...for I am your servant (v. 12).

David may have had to dwell temporarily in caves, but he was no gruff  “caveman of old.” His outlook was “up”--to a heavenly Father—who knew exactly what was going on and had great plans for David. In time, He would answer as David prayed:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Maybe that's a good description of my “family portrait wall” Year by year, the children grew older (as did their parents). We had good years, and bad years (like the year we were nearly killed by a drunk driver). But the photos continue to remind me: He has never forsaken me. And my heart is stirred to praise.

MORNING'S HOPE (Psalm 143)

Landscape near my "high-desert" hometown. David probably looked

out on similar desolation (without the telephone poles!)

(Part of an ongoing series of psalms to study when you're feeling "down," as suggested by pastor/counselor David Seamands in his book, "Healing for Damaged Emotions.")

“Joy comes in the morning…” The hope expressed in that song took on a personal meaning when my friend Dan Miller was privileged to sing it for a Bill Gaither music video. Dan’s not your run-of-the-mill Gospel singer. The summer after he graduated from high school, he was one of the last victims of the polio epidemic of the 1950s. The vaccines hadn’t yet made it to small towns clutching the Columbia River in north central Washington. His athletic body was decimated by the virus. His right arm was left virtually useless, his left, less impaired, and his once strong legs a whisper of their former selves. But Dan went on to fulfill his dream of becoming a physical education teacher (with lots of adjustments), later a school principal, then an inspirational speaker. He loved to play a guitar in his unique “adjusted” way and sing about hope after the darkest night: “Joy comes in the morning.”

MORNING BLESSING

I think of Dan when I read Psalm 143, especially verse 8, which I memorized through the NavPress “Topical Memory System” early in my Christian walk:
Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust; cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.(KJV)

In the version I now use (New International Version) it continues to remind me that the night is not forever:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you.  Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

When we look to the Lord for help, the nights of emotional and personal darkness are not forever. Like the first rays of the sunrise, God has a way of giving us hints that hope is on its way. That, I think, is the enduring message of Psalm 143.

Like the previous psalm, also by David, it has a heavy and sorrowful tone. David is on the verge of giving up as the enemy continues to hunt and taunt him. “My spirit grows faint within me,” he says, “my heart within me is dismayed” (vv. 3-4). What keeps him from giving up altogether is remembering God’s help in the past:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (v. 5)

In a posture of worship and yielding, he holds out his hands. I understand that, as I have done that in my prayer life when I saw no answer and had to trust God with all my being.

Not surprisingly, this was a lesson David had learned before. In Psalm 30, he had exclaimed:

Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

COMFORT V. CONFORMED 

It’s not just a matter of waiting a day or so for God to make things happen. God has His own, best timing for working out the problems we face. Sometimes the problem stares back at us in the mirror! He usually has things that need correcting inside us. That’s the other emphasis of Psalm 143, which is named as one of the seven “penitential” (confessional) psalms. (The others are 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143.)  But what may take weeks or months or years is all part of His perfect plan. His ultimate goal isn’t our comfort but being conformed to the image of Christ.  

In the midst of wishing he could be free of his enemies’ taunts and threats, David recognizes that his suffering has a higher purpose of building character:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Joy will come in the morning—not necessarily the 24-hour cycle when the sun rises again, but when the Morning Star (Rev. 22:16), Jesus Christ, shines forth into our hearts. Left to our own devices, we’re like a wilderness of sagebrush. His character is built into us through the polishing and maturing knives of adversity. Though Psalm 143 begins with lugubrious notes of despair, it ends with sweetness: “I am your servant” (v. 12).