Monday, February 18, 2013

If it ain't one thing, it's another



For Thou, O God, hast proved us: Thou hast tried us, as silver is tried. Psalm 66:10

It is never easy.  Life.

This psalm is full of such images of being tromped on the head and tangled up in nets and affliction upon our loins, which sounds dreadful.  And sometimes when we make lists, such as community group prayer requests, or New York Times headlines, or late-at-night to do lists, life seems pretty bleak. The fire is hot.  I am pretty much aware from the aluminum foundry in the Dominican Republic refuge camp how much firewood it takes to lift impurities out of the simmering crucible.

But that is not where we are to dwell, on these lists.  I was trying to wrap my brain around an awkward relative clause, that may or may not be a poor translation, but it did get me thinking: O bless our God, ye people, and make the voice of His praise to be heard which holdeth our soul in life, and suffereth not our feet to be moved.

Cameron and I had a conversation yesterday, at a long table of friends and family outside of a quasi-Mexican fast food shop after church.  The sun was shining, the breeze was lightly tossing, and it was lovely.  But the talk was serious, as it is wont to be with Mr. Cameron, as we discussed how early life decisions shape our trajectory in life.  Can we ever shake those stories that we have told ourselves over and over, deep grooves in our way of thinking?  Those shimmering images of happily-ever-after archetypes that leave me always longing for something else just over the horizon?  

Cameron had been given instructions to change his thinking about a particularly, hmmm, dreaded person in his life.  Someone who fell smack dab on the other side of the line in just about every imaginable quadrant.  And taking control of those thoughts and choosing to see this person as a child of God and choosing to invite him into his life rather than cross to the other side of the road shifted the pretty bleak lists that were strung out in his mind. And somewhere along the way, they became friends.  The lines were erased.  Or faded into the background in the light of Truth.   

Alan and I watched the same movie last night, sort of huddled in his office in front of his big screen computer, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. It was about a bunch of well, they were basically our age Brits, who decided to toss aside a frugall retirement for brochure promises of a luxurious Indian mansion.  So we wallowed in the vibrant sounds and almost smells of rich spices and at the end we both sighed.  Me with When can I pack my bags, and Alan relieved that now having so enjoyed the vista, we didn’t need to actually make the trip.  

Somewhere in the movie a snitty woman asked why are the people were smiling when obviously things were a little crowded and smelly, and the rather pat answer was something about they were grateful for another day of life.  But yes, as Alan carefully tamps the soil around the new seedlings in his gardens, whether they be in the backyard or on one of the mentor soccer teams, he looks for fresh growth, gives thanks for the simple things like sun and compost and water, and smiles.  

And read with a certain running start, today's psalm says that.  The voice of His praise is that which holds our soul in life, that which holds our feet sturdy on the slippery, sliding slope of life.  Nicole understands this, and literally, when all else fails, she cranks up the iPod and lifts her voice in praise and her arms in dance, and then perspective locks into place. Her feet plant on solid ground.  Rock.  The centurion understood this, the guy who told Jesus, "Say the word."  He is sovereign.  May His name be praised with joy and honesty in my voice.     May I give thanks for the simple things like sun and compost and water, and smile.  

May the voice of His praise hold my soul in life.  

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