Skip to main content

Meditations on Psalm 61, 62 and 68

Psalm 61

 "Hear my cry O God... for you O God have heard..."

God hears me.  He has heard me.  This is quite astounding if I stop and think about it.  If I want someone to listen, someone who can make a difference, someone who cares and I actually get an audience with that person it's a big deal.  I leave those conversations feeling better.  Feeling hopeful.

How much more if the Creator of the universe, the One who designed my ears and knows the hidden person of my heart... how much more astounding that He hears me.  He listens.

Is it God who I run to in my weakness and faintness of heart?  Or do I run to food.  Sleep. TV. Distraction...?  Why???  If God hears me, if he cares, if he's listening, if he's there for me why would I go to sleep, or TV, or the fridge??  Oh help my unbelief God!

"You have given me the heritage of those who fear your name."

What is the heritage God gives to those who fear his name?

Read the last verse of Isaiah 54 and then go back and read what "this" is.  There are enough promises there to keep me trusting and praying and pressing on for a lifetime!






Psalm 62

"For God alone my soul waits in silence..."

Three hidden, intangible things:  God alone. My soul. Waiting in silence.

All three I must live in.

On God alone rests my salvation and glory.  All my hope for being able to stand before the living God and not be consumed rests on Him.  All my hope for glory, for being beautiful again, for being the Imago Dei one I was created to be, for being like Christ.. it all rests on God alone.

It's a waiting of the soul.  Not a sit-and-do-nothing-and-wait waiting, but a carrying on through the storms and dullness of life while with is a hopeful look up.

In silence.  There are no words.  There is no magic spell to be spoken, no special prayer.  The salvation, the glory, the protection and strength I wait for and hope in comes not for any special plea or recitation.  My mouth is shut.  I open it only to pour out my heart to the One in which all my trust lies.  But the pouring out of my heart is not the magic key that unlocks the door to the end of my waiting in my soul upon God alone in silence.  The pouring out is simply an emptying of all that stirs my soul.  It is a return to God alone, in my soul, to silent waiting.


Psalm 68

"Blessed be the LORD who daily bears us up; God is our salvation."
"Awesome is God... he is the one who gives power and strength to his people."

If I am bearing up it is God who is doing the bearing.  I don't pull myself up by my bootstraps.  I pull myself up by the strength that God supplies.  It is not my own.  It is he.  And even when I am not pulling myself up by his strength I am falling on his strength and he is still the one doing the bearing up.



 Quieted,
Sheila

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…

Burned chicken, my story and Israel

It's been an interesting day.



 I'm sitting here trying to get a hold on how I nearly burned down the covered patio by barbecuing bone-in chicken breasts while I planned and prepped other things in the kitchen. I know time can get away from me sometimes, but I tell ya I was in here for 30 minutes and I set the burners on low!

I probably shouldn't post today's attempt at making something real on my new recipe blog. Or maybe I should. Keeping it real. Real, even if it is burned, leads to trust.

Like standing in front of a congregation of missed-the-mark makers like me (many of whom I don't know), telling my charred story, knowing it'll be recorded, knowing my family will be listening. It's a burnt offering, my homologeo. A sum of all that I can put in appropriate words at this time offered up to the Refiner's fire who's been keeping me real through it all.

A very dear person to me asked why Jews and Christians don't agree about Jesus recently.…