PROTECTED (PSALM 121)

My mother, whose hobbies included oil-painting, did this art of

Mount Rainier for me. A few months later she died of cancer.

I know I’m in trouble when I lapse into the thinking that “it’s just me against the world.” When I feel overwhelmed by negative people or circumstances, I’m in a downward spiral—until I look spiritually “up”…to God.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (121:1-2)

I don’t lift my eyes to the “ills”—the problems—but to the higher, invisible presence of God.

Some of my reminders to do that come from paintings or photos in my home of Mount Rainier, the 14,000-feet-plus snow-capped, sleeping volcano that squats above the valley where I grew up. In that area’s rainy climate, it wasn’t always visible. But on sunny days, if I went to the end of the street to peek between rooftops, I could see it and report back home, “The mountain is out.” I’m aware that scientists say it could, like Mount St. Helens, cause great damage and loss of life if it ever erupted. Still, whenever I read the opening words of Psalm 121, in my memory I “look to the hills” (and this mountain) because my human tendency in thinking of God is to look “up.” In doing so, I remember that Christ ascended into heaven, wherever that is in the mystery of God.

When I learned that Psalm 121 was one of the psalms “of ascent,” sung by pilgrims headed to Jerusalem (“up” in the hills), I better understood why it referred to the “hills.” These people, traveling to their Holy City, were looking “to the hills” for the first evidence of Jerusalem’s temple. The primitive route there, however, harbored risk. Besides harsh weather, snakes and other animal dangers, they were vulnerable to bandits. But they focused instead on what was ahead: the religious celebrations and reunions with other God-followers. These would remind them that their true help wasn’t in rituals but from their Creator God.

WATCHED

Five times the psalmist refers to God as watching us. He watches us instead of “sleeping” (vv. 3-4) He watches as a protective shade (v. 5). He watches out for possible harm to us (v. 7), and our comings and goings (v. 8). Does that mean bad things will never happen?  Of course not. We experienced “harm” when involved in two serious auto wrecks caused by drivers who were allegedly drinking or just plain careless. But was God there? Of course! In the midst of the frantic and scary stuff, He hadn’t left us.

Paul experienced that through many life-threatening situations—stonings, mob attacks, bandits, intrigue, shipwreck (check out the list in 2 Corinthians 11)--yet left this golden verse in his letter to the Philippians:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

Bandits called discouragement and doubt still hide behind the boulders of life’s journey. They’re “bandits” because they want to take away what is most precious to us, and that is peace with God. Depression can slither in from such attacks. At such times I need to get my eyes off the rocks in the path and up to the destination: of communion with the God whose ultimate goal is fellowship now and forevermore (v. 8).

Timely thoughts....

I first wore this watch as a freshly-minted high school graduate, having moved up from cheap watches to my first “dress watch,” a gift from my parents. I remember going to the jewelry store with my dad so he could be sure it was exactly what I wanted. That was more than fifty years ago, and when it recently stopped working, we took it to the only man in our area who works on fine watches like this.  He’s semi-retired, working out of his home, but takes to his workbench decades of expertise. We’re thankful for him!

So why talk about an old watch when Christmas is just around the corner?  Maybe because the phrase “the time came” in the Christmas story made me think twice:

While they [Joseph and Mary] were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. (Luke 2:6-7a)

When “the time came” for our daughter to have her first baby, my husband could hardly wait for the news of the birth. That call came just a day before the official “due date” (how often had I said, “Babies come when they want, not when they’re due”?).  Of course, we hurried across the state (a half-day trip) to meet little Eleanor. When I walked into the bright, welcoming “birthing suite” where she was born, I couldn’t help but think about how multiple millions of women have experienced the birth process in far less sterile and welcoming circumstances. Mary was one. I can only imagine Mary’s mother’s angst as her very pregnant daughter climbed on a lumbering donkey to make an arduous trip to Bethlehem with Joseph for the capricious “census” the Romans had ordered up. That wasn’t Mamma’s Plan A, but it was God’s Plan Perfect.

In a filthy stable, far from home, Jesus was born, and all the predictions about a Messiah’s birth collided with celestial perfection. Born of a virgin. In Bethlehem. Announced by an ecstatic praise performance by untold numbers of angels. All in God’s right timing, to a discouraged nation suffocating under Roman oppression—a pagan culture that unwittingly provided the roads and common language to help spread the message Jesus would bring. 

Jesus’ birth wasn’t the only “perfect timing” of God’s plan for us. Fast-forward three decades or so to Jesus, gathering His disciples around Him for hard teachings about the end of “time” as we know it. They were ready for the world’s mess to be cleaned up and Jesus to reign. (Things haven’t changed much!)  But He had a different message, telling them to be like servants on the alert for their master’s unexpected return home:

You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. (Luke 12:40)

That had to be a “scratch-your-head” comment. He stood or sat before them, delivering this strange message about a “coming back.”

Increasingly, that’s what I think about at Christmas—not the manger-infant, but the mighty, invincible God who says He will return to this planet for a final judging and reward time that will blow our minds apart.  A new heavens and a new earth. New purpose, new roles, new relationships. Purity restored.

In the meantime, I wind my repaired watch every morning, to keep the day's seconds and minutes ticking along.  I try to remember: Christ's second coming could be today. Am I ready?  "Be patient and stand firm," James, the Lord's earthly brother, wrote, "because the Lord's coming is near" (James 3:9). Nearer now, most certainly, than when he wrote!