JUST LISTENING

 

I stepped out the front door that early morning, looked down the street, and just listened. The birds of early spring were whistling, chortling, cawing, tweeting, and more..... We get so used to our "natural surroundings" that I suspect we forget that they, too, can praise their Creator.

Among Biblical reminders:

*Meadows (“clothed with flocks of sheep”) and valleys (“carpeted with grain”) “all shout and sing for joy!” (Psalm 65:13 NLT)

*As we look “up”: “The heavens declare the glory of God' the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.” (Psalm 19:1-2)

*Watching the heaving waves, hearing the thunder of the surf and the whispering retreating waves: “The seas have lifted up their voice” (Psalm 93:3)

*The whole landscape: “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy” (Psalm 96:11-12).

As a still-single young adult (age 31), six months apart I lost my parents to cancer and a heart attack. In that difficult “next year” of grief plus re-homing their belongings and selling their home, I had to make many trips across one of the passes of majestic Mount Rainier. Near the summit, there was a turnoff that I gladly took for a driver's break. As I got out of the car, there rearing above me, in glistening splendor, was the state's trademark mountain. As I paused, I listened to my heart in awe of this sight reminding me of the power and strength of its Creator.

I had memorized much of Psalm 139, and several verses revisited as I considered the mountain grandeur:

Verse 5: God knew the past and the future: “You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”

Verses 8-10: Wherever I go—the heights, the depths, beyond the dawn, on the far side of the sea, “even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

Washington's tallest mountain (a “sleeping volcano”) was worshiped by Native Americans, who called it “Tahoma.” (Strangely, it was later named "Rainier" by a British naval officer who surveyed Washington's coast and decided to give the mountain his friend's name. The friend never saw it in person!) I can understand their awe for a magnificent structure of creation. It helped me “lift mine eyes unto the hills” (Psalm 121), past my earth-bound worries and concerns, to my Creator.

I suspect too often we slam off the alarm, rush through the morning hygiene tasks, grab a breakfast and run to start our days. But now, in early mornings, the earth beckons me to pause and listen to the distinct voices the Creator gave the different bird species.

Maybe it's just me, but the gentle sunrise stillness especially draws me to worship. The cool, the dew, the chirps and chortles of winged life--just listening prompts my heart to praise the Creator.

FLYING TWEETS AND TWITTERS

When I married and moved to a small central Washington town, mornings just got better. In Portland, greater Los Angeles and Chicago, I woke to the roar of traffic. Now, the twitters and tweets of birds come through the open window. It’s so peaceful and a poignant reminder that the same Creator God who made things that fly also made me, and has never gone out of business!

I’m not famous as a “morning person.” Like a diesel engine, I need time to warm up, and more so as I age.  My morning routine now includes a heat pad on a painful knee. But my new “normal” is okay. “Wake up and be awesome,” urges one of the signs I liked. Sometimes upon wakening, I pull on old concerns like a ratty old robe. I’m prone to identify with King David in Psalm 5. There he rehearses how mean and demeaning people have made his life miserable. But there’s a golden verse toward the beginning:
Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray.
Morning by morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; morning by morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. (Psalm 5:2-3)

One of my morning habits is making the bed before starting on the day’s duties. It’s like closing the night chapter and opening the day chapter for whatever God has ahead. No matter what yesterday brought, this is a new day. David also wrote:
Weeping may remain for a night, But rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)
Then, as part of morning devotions (besides reading the Bible), I often pick up a hymnal kept next to my devotional "spot." Dozens are part of my spiritual heritage, their tunes easily recalled, and their words uplifting with praise and Biblical truth. Godly men and women who condensed spiritual lessons to rhyme continue to speak.

Fortified by song and God’s Word, I’m ready to add my voice to the day, remembering another psalm:
This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)
When I look in the mirror and acknowledge the aging process, I also remember that God created me for more than this earth. But for now, the morning tweets and twitters (which have nothing to do with the cyberworld) outside my window declare that I can wake up and be awesome—in God’s sight.

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).

WAITING (Psalm 130)

An orchard in waiting mode last fall, to come in bloom sometime in April

(Part of an ongoing series on the 48 psalms commended to study during times of "feeling down," from pastor-counselor David Seamands' book, Healing for Damaged Emotions.)

Sometimes our “feeling down” is of our own doing. We clutch sinful actions, words, or thoughts to our hearts, thinking that they’re not that big a deal to God.  Or maybe He won’t even notice them. The problem is that any sin is an offense to God. If sin wasn’t such a bad thing, why did Jesus die?

Okay, that’s the heavy part, the “sighing” over the condition of our hearts. Psalm 130 is like a tape recording of owning up to sin and seeking forgiveness. It begins with a writer so burdened by sin that he feels sinking into depths. Could God possibly hear a cry for mercy, as far down as he (or she) has sunk?  If God has a sin-ledger book, there’s no hope.  The writer cries out, “If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand?” (v. 3).

SIN CATALOG

Years ago I read a poignant illustration of this—a tale in which a person was taken to a room crammed with what looked like old-fashioned card-catalogue files. As he opened each drawer and thumbed through the cards, he saw each bore a description of a sin in his life. Card after card condemned. He sunk to the floor in despair and tears….until a nail-scarred, blood-marked Hand rubbed across each card, erasing it. “But with you,” the psalmist continued, “there is forgiveness” (v. 4).

Yet the psalmist isn’t totally sure of total forgiveness.  The end of verse 4 says, “therefore you are feared.”  He waits for assurance that God forgives and for his fellowship with God to be restored. It’s a long night of wondering, like that which ancient guards faced while walking the city walls during the dark of night, watching and listening for any enemy action nearby. It was tiring duty. No wonder they were glad to see the sunrise!

“My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” (v. 6)

WAITING IN THE DARK

I remember long "night watches" with a fussy baby or sick child. Time crawled while rocking that child in the darkness. Dawn seeped in so slowly and I wondered if new hope will come with the first glimpse of sunlight. This is the psalmist’s situation. Imagine, having to wait and wait—and wonder—if God will forgive your sins.

In the last couple verses, he affirms that God can and will forgive, offering “full redemption” (v. 7) from “all their sins” (v. 8).

Confession of sin is serious business—both confession to God and to people who’ve been hurt by sin. A quickie remark or note, when the offense was deep and wounding, doesn't mean much to the person who was hurt. In contrast, personal and specific confession with an obvious grief for named offenses--not a generic "sorry I got mad" note--shows that the offender wants his or her request to be taken seriously. *(See note below)

After reading and mulling over Psalm 130, turn to Hebrews 10:19-25. That passage puts the Gospel perspective—the atoning death of Jesus Christ—on the Old Testament view of sin. When we’re in the depths, calling out to God, there’s a new hope:

Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience…Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. (vv. 22-23).

When we’re honest about our sin, God doesn’t put our call “on hold.”  The calls of the believer serious about confession and spiritual change go right through to Him. And that’s great reason for hope and joy.

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*Although it doesn't quote scripture, I found the site below to be basically Biblical in approach regarding how to ask forgiveness. It underscores the importance of personal apologies with their revealing body language and voice tone. In contrast, the easier-sent note or E-mail, which spare the offender "face" or embarrassment, are far less likely to produce the sorrow needed to change negative behavior. 

https://www.wikihow.com/Ask-for-Forgiveness

Psalm136: An ancient 7-11

When morning broke the other day, what a fashion show the sky put on! Correction: what a show God provided! I thought of the third verse of Psalm 113, one of many written entirely to praise God:
From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,  The name of the LORD is to be praised. (v. 3)
My husband has become an early riser, thanks in part to an old codger cat who scratches the wall by our bed for its 4:30 a.m. breakfast (the first one). After that, it’s too noisy for me to sleep much longer, so I stumble out.  Like a diesel engine on a long-haul truck, I need some warming up.  A lot of warming up! And that morning, a tangerine and hot pink sky provided a wonderful wake-up treat.

It’s easy to praise God for beauty on earth and in sky. But I once had a hard time figuring out a psalm just a few pages over, #136. Over and over it says, “Give thanks to the LORD….His love endures forever.”  For a while I decided it was an early Hebrew version of modern praise choruses referred to by wags as 7-11s (for seven words sung eleven times).  Plus, the bulk of the praise went to a trying, bloody time of history: when the Hebrews left Egypt and fought their way to the Promised Land.

Start the cameras.  Zoom in on men, women and children in a worship setting, led by priests and designated musicians. They live in times of oral history. This lesson has several chapters:

*Before creation—God always was, the Highest and the Only (vv. 1-3).

*Creation—“God” is the explanation for the universe, our solar system, and our planet with its divisions of day and night (vv.4-9).
*The Exodus—One special man’s clan went to a foreign land where they ended up slaves. Then God miraculously plucked them out of there and sent them to a new homeland (vv.10-15).
*The Conquest—Yes, there was bloodshed. This was no longer Eden, but lands filled with vile and violent people (vv.17-22).
*God’s Continuing Care—God provided freedom and food for the refugees(vv. 23-25).
And what’s the big lesson of this history? To thank God (v.26) and declare the enduring nature of His love.

Of course, this wasn’t the end of Hebrew history. But in retelling history to that point, the psalm provided plenty of praise-God material. Bible scholar Derek Kidner observed that the Hebrew translated to English as “give thanks” really means “thankfully confess” or “acknowledge gratefully.” As such, it raises the question that Bible teacher James Montgomery Boice articulated: “In our worship of God, are we consistently and joyfully thanking God for his many great and kind acts toward us?” (Psalms Vol. 3, Baker 1998, p. 1180).

It’s not just about tangerine skies.  It’s about courage when life is hard, gratitude for God’s help (often delivered via people who push us deeper spiritually), and anticipation of where all this is going in God’s perfect plan. The last stanza lifts us to eternity:
Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever.

Will there be tangerine sunrises in that “forever” place with God?  Why not?