Happy Fourth of July!!! I hope you were able to enjoy some time at the Aptos Parade, or watching fireworks live or on TV, or listened to a concert of rousing national anthems. Of course, a smoky BBQ is always a good way to celebrate our nation’s freedom. And I hope we are ever mindful of the men and women who have given so much for our freedom and hold abundant gratitude for everyone from our founding mothers and fathers to our current civic leaders for holding our country in high esteem. Our freedom is not based on our military might, but rather on our vital human ideals. We are blessed with so many freedoms, the freedom of speech, freedom to marry who we love, freedom to believe in our amazing God or not. Paul speaks of freedom when writing to the church in Galatia connecting the freedom we have in our faith, to our ability to love one another as our selves. It was refreshing and challenging to think of this familiar tenant of faith, “to love your neighbor as you love yourself” as a freedom. That in so doing we are not lessening our connections or giving away something that we have earned but rather we are gaining freedom for the gift we find in our openness to others, in our heart being touched by those who God has placed around us. This extension of ourselves, in caring for and loving our neighbor, is central to our faith and to the identity of our nation. Our willingness to welcome those in need of place, in need of a home and to love them as we love ourselves. When we fail to do so we are living in fear rather than faith and coming from a place of not enough, rather than God’s abundance and care.
“Theologian Karl Barth declared that there is only one sin, suggesting that the single sin from which every lesser sin emanates is the sin of ingratitude- the failure to comprehend the theological truth that human life in all its beauty, abundance and possibility is a gift” (Feasting on the Word, C3, p. 206). I would add that our gratitude is not only needed when life is easy and full but finding gratitude in the hard times is truly the challenge of our faith. The author of Psalm 30 does that well. We know that he had been restored to life, healed, and after that trying and difficult time, gratitude flows from his lips. But like us in our times of trouble and reflection, the images come in glimpses and so I will be reading the psalm in a slightly different order.
So close your Bible and listen for the couplets of contrast and the fullness of faith and life in this
powerful and familiar psalm. Psalm 30 (6-10, 1-3, 11-12, 4-5)
6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
“I shall never be moved.”
7 By your favor, O Lord,
you had established me as a strong mountain;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.
8 To you, O Lord, I cried,
and to the Lord I made supplication:
9 “What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me!
O Lord, be my helper!”
I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up,
and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
2 O Lord my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3 O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol,
restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy,
12 so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
4 Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5 For his anger is but for a moment;
his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
What a witness! What a testimony of commitment and trust. This rearranging and viewing of the text comes from Maxine Dunnam (Sermons.com) She sees four things in this psalm, Problem, Plea, Praise and Promise.
Problem first. We so often think of ourselves as the ones in charge of life, the kings or queens of our own castles limiting the depth of our faith. The psalmist starts with his own prosperity claiming to be established as a strong mountain. He does note God’s favor in becoming that mountain, yet he is pretty self-assured. Can’t we relate to that. We look at our life and say look what I have created. Nothing will shake me. Nothing will shake me, until it does.
When a diagnosis tilts your world,
when a child is tortured by addiction,
when your beloved partner dies, when a career suddenly ends. Then in that moment it feels like your mountain is crumbling and that God’s face is hidden from you.
Our confidence in our own prosperity is a problem and the way to deal with that is to recognize our need for God. Until we see our need for God there is very little chance that we can form a truly intimate connection to our creator. So when you have a need, make a plea to your Lord for help, ask God into your struggles, heck ask God into all of life. Several times the psalmist cried to the Lord, cried to God for help, made a plea of supplication. “To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made my supplication.” Your prayer, your plea, can be a hail Mary pass or a constant and quiet request. But whatever form it takes it is our humbling of ourselves before God and recognizing from whence our help comes that opens the gates to healing, to the restorative powers of God.
Our Problem is believing we are established mountains of prosperity. Our plea to God for help is the way to invite God in, to experience the ever-present love of God. From that place we can sing forth praise. “You have turned my mourning (my sadness) into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.” We are invited into this praise as “the faithful ones” who witness the goodness of God and sing praises to our Lord.
That means we sing praises even when life feels overwhelming. I don’t say that as a should, but rather as an expression of faith. Because we know that no matter what darkness we are wrapped in now, the sadness of grieving your beloved, the pain of recovering from a long taxing illness, we know that God is with us on this journey. We know the long dark nights of the soul when we are alone in our bed, the world is quiet, but our being is in anguish. “Will there ever be light again?” we ask. How will this depth of hurt ever end? A strong confident woman shared with me a recent struggle. In her 3:00 am sleeplessness, racked with anxiety and fear, this woman sent home her house guests because life simply felt too overwhelming in the darkness of night. But later she realized that she should never make decisions in those dark moments, because they pass, and morning brings a new perspective. We take courage from the psalmist who has faced that dark night and attested to the power of God. We think back to another time of darkness and know that yes one-day light will return, and God’s presence is felt. We know that even when it feels like God has turned his face from us, God is right there with us in our darkness and even through weeping may linger for the night, joy comes with the morning.
“Somewhere I read the story of a young man whose wife had died, leaving him with a small son. Back home from the cemetery on the day of the funeral, they went to bed early because in his sorrow the young widower could think of nothing else he could bear to do. As he lay there in the darkness, grief stricken, numb with sorrow, the little boy broke the stillness from his little bed with a disturbing question: “Daddy, where is mommy?”
The young father tried to answer the boy and tried to get him to go to sleep, but the question kept coming from his confused, childish mind? “Where is Mommy?!! — “When is she coming home?”
After a while the father got up and brought the little boy to bed with him. But the child was still disturbed and restless…persistent with his probing, heartbreaking questions.
Finally, the little boy reached out his hand through the darkness and placed it on his father’s face, asking, “Daddy, is your face towards me?”
Given assurance, both verbally and by his own touch that his father’s face was indeed toward him, the little boy said, “If your face is toward me, I think I can go to sleep.” And in a little while, he was quiet.
The father lay there in the darkness and in child-like faith prayed, “O God, the way is dark and I confess that I do not see my way through right now, but if your face is toward me, somehow I think I can make it” (Sermons.com, Maxine Dunnam). Well, we can, friends. We can make it if God’s face is toward us and certainly that’s the case. His face is always toward us, so weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Joy comes in the morning. Amen.
