You
strengthen me more and more; You enfold and comfort me. Psalm 71:21
Bless our
God, you peoples; make the voice of His praise to be heard; Who holds our souls
in life, and will not allow our feet to slip. For you, O God, have proved us;
you have tried us just as silver is tried. You brought us into the snare; you
laid heavy burdens upon our backs. You let enemies ride over our heads; we went
through fire and water; but You brought us out into a place of refreshment. Psalm 66:7-12
Last
night we talked about how true heart-rending grief somehow drives us into His
comforting embrace. And how those Israelites ate What is it? for forty long years. Ann Voskamp calls it eating the mystery.
And
the headlines this morning shout the aches “of a broken and battered planet.” In one Afghan
city, 12 schoolgirls were crushed to death in a stampede as they tried to
evacuate their school. The escalation
in fighting in Syria, along with Russian airstrikes, spurs a huge escalation of
civilian flight, just as EU
vows tighter border controls in effort to stem flow of migrants. And winter
has hit, and temperatures are plummeting. And I had been wondering what role
the many prayers offered up had in the no
lives lost during Patricia, history’s biggest hurricane. But what about
this, God? What about twelve poll workers being ambushed and killed in Colombia
yesterday? You, Lord God, who enemies
ride over our heads?
Yesterday
afternoon during parent conferences I served up Kleenex and a close-by trashcan
along with the report cards and teacher comments. Life is hard. Beyond the
middle school run-of-the-mill won’t do
dishes and only wants to play
computer games. Today one kid’s
dad is getting out after five years in prison. And the kid is acting up and
shrugging a lot. And I am pretty impressed that the uncle and aunt came along
to the meeting along with the mother. And there’s the dad who is working both a
day job and a night job to put food on the table. So it is really important
that his daughter does well in school so that she will have more choices beyond
should I take a quick nap on the couch or in the chair. And the hairdresser
with pink hair who sobbed and sobbed and I had no words, so we prayed together
for wisdom and grace.
Why
would Adam and Eve ever want to eat of the tree of Knowledge of Good and
Evil? Why did we want more than the
goodness of the garden?
Ann
calls it the serpent’s hissing lie, the
repeating refrain of his campaign through the ages: Doubting God’s goodness,
distrusting His intent, discontented with what He’s given, we desire. . . I
have desired. . . more.
And
somehow full moons remind me of the peoples. All the peoples of the world. And
of course we peoples all look up at waxing moons and waning moons and new moons
as well, except when we don’t because we are tucked in besides our electronics
or our sight is blinded by the overhead neon and blinking lights, or I just
wanted to curl into bed and try to pull the pillow over my head and sleep it
away. But I don’t think we pause so much and marvel at ghostly galleon thin
slices. But I am pretty sure that there is a mysterious catch in every peoples breath
when we peoples glance up at the full glowing moon whispering, “Consider.”
And
there was a full moon when we stepped outside last night into the soft autumn
air. After we had gone around the circled couches and lifted up our many
prayers for sisters and children and jobs and grandchildren again and again to
a good God. And it was waiting for me as well as I crunched across the driveway
gravel on my way to the pool this morning.
Thinking about the psalmist who accuses God of bringing us into the
snares and laying heavy burdens upon our shoulders and James who speaks of
every good and perfect gift from the Father of Lights.
And
because I have already read and reread 1000
Gifts, I know the punch line. And I have it dangling around my neck, a gift
from my beloved sister: eucharisteo. A
place of refreshment.
The root word of eucharisteo is charis,
meaning “grace.” Jesus took the bread, knowing its full implication and weight
and whiplash pain and yet saw it as grace
and gave thanks. Eucharisteo,
thanksgiving, envelopes the Greek word for grace, charis. But it also holds its derivative, the Greek word chara, meaning “joy.” Joy. Ah. . . yes. I might be needing me some of
that.
Bless our
God, you peoples; make the voice of His praise to be heard;
Who holds
our souls in life, and will not allow our feet to slip.
Bless the
Lord, oh my soul.
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