A real, concrete promise: A meditation on Psalm 121

A Song of Ascents 
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore. - Psalm 121

Who's doing all the work here?  I lift up my eyes, but my help comes not from good staff, good breeding, good parents, good work.  My help comes from the LORD.  He's doing all the work.

He's keeping me from going astray.  He's not taking a nap or growing tired.  He is the One who sanctified me through his Son and he's the One who keeps me that way.  He's the place I can go to escape from the burning heat of the rightful anger he has toward my sin and the searching light of his righteousness that shines on the hidden, dark things in me.  He's the one keeping me from being ruined by evil; not overcome by it, but overcoming it with good.  He's the one keeping my life forever.

And all this he promises me.  But how can I know?  Isn't this Israel's?  Yes!  And he proves, even now, thousands of years later, that Israel has a keeper.  Though she has rejected him, he will not fail to keep his promise to her.  And when I look at her history, and I watch her even now, that barely a spot on the world map that causes so many around her to roar and rattle, I realize, that the LORD who promised to be the keeper of unfaithful Israel, keeps me too.  For, "And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise." (Galatians 3:29)


 Quieted,
Sheila

Meet Jed and Duke

Waiting till this late in the evening to post isn't a good idea. Every time I sit down to write in the evening the first words that come to mind are, "I'm exhausted!"

I am.  Pooped. Tired. Worn out.  Some version of virus struck our house Sunday morning.  It took Ryland down first.  By the time I got home from church he was running a fever.  I worked Sunday night and by the time I got to work, I was feeling like my body was trying fight off whatever Ryland had (sore throat, dizzy headache, yada yada).

Working night's shift is a worthwhile trade for me.  I get more time available to my family in exchange for 24 to 48 hours of sleep deprivation.  Well worth it!  The last two weeks I've gotten called off for one of my two weekly scheduled shifts.  The budget may need to be more strictly adhered to only working one day a week, but the time is worth so much more to me.

Yesterday, when I woke up at 2pm, I felt like my body was loosing the battle against the virus that was whooping Ryland.  He slept from 1pm Sunday afternoon, through the night into Monday morning.  James took Monday off to stay home with Ryland.  Thankfully I was put on-call last night.  I went to bed early and woke up feeling much better this morning.  Still the dizzy headache though.  Ugh.

I am LOVING having goats.  My friend Shirley was so sweet to get these Nubians to us free of charge.  But since they are both bucks and Connor can't use them for 4H and since I don't think I should start my goat experience with trying to keep 2 bucks (from what I've read it's not advisable), we are going to try to trade at least one of them for a young Boer Connor can raise for 4H.  I want to keep one of these bucks and breed him with a doe and get the experience of kids and milking a doe, but I don't have a way to keep the buck separate from the doe, and I don't know if I'd be getting in over my head.  I think I'd like to raise dairy goats and use their milk, but then I think I'd like to raise meat goats and use them for meat.  Hmmm.  What to do???  I keep batting it around and in the mean time, I have these two, totally sweet bucks out in my yard, who, if I'm reading right, are going to at some point turn into mean, one-track-minded beasts who will stop at nothing to find a doe.  I'm just not seeing it right now.  Jed and Duke are two handsome, soft, gentle gazelle-like guys that my family and I are thoroughly enjoying.








Quieted,
Sheila

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