Hallelujah

In Sunday school last week, the teacher asked us to share when we had experienced great joy. The room was silent. Interesting, this is not a group that hasn't experienced joy, I'm sure. There is happiness here, but we all had trouble vocalizing it.

Then, this morning, in the concluding chapter of Peterson's book, Psalms: Prayers of the Heart, he writes about Psalm 150, "In Hebrew the first and last word of this prayer is hallelujah ("praise the Lord"). To what extent is your life bracketed by this word?

So that's the question I bring to you today. How is your life bracketed by the praise of God? Do you begin and end with Hallelujah? 

In the depth and details of each day, I think we lose our ability to see the joy and to find the presence of God. In my bullet journal, I have a spread called Gratitude. Each day I fill two lines of the book with what I am grateful for that day. Sometimes it takes a moment for me to find it - it's not that the joy isn't there - it's that I have to remember to look for it. I'm grateful for the practice of gratitude because it opens my eyes to joy.

Try it for a week and see if you see more joy - see if your days can end on an Hallelujah.

Thoughts about Psalm 73

Have you ever read Psalm 73?  Go read it and then come back.  I'll wait.

It starts out with the writer talking about God being good, but how he almost missed God's goodness because he was watching the rich and their success - the arrogance and flashiness of the people around him

The Message puts it this way:

What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?

Nobody’s tending the store.

The wicked get by with everything;

they have it made, piling up riches.

I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;

what has it gotten me?

A long run of bad luck, that’s what—

a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

Couple of things:

1. First, one can admire the psalmist for writing what he feels - what he thinks. This is an honest complaint to God, and we should all be that authentic in our prayers.
2. Is this "prosperity gospel"? Is this one person expecting treasurers on earth for faith?

I just thought it was an interesting Psalm to read and think about.

Who we Actually Are

We must pray who we actually are, not who we think we should be.  (Psalms: Prayers of the Heart, Eugene Peterson)

How many friendships do you have that require that you be who you are - not who you think you should be? That is a level of intimacy that we probably don't share with many people. It is a level of vulnerability that is hard to achieve, and it requires a deep trust.

Prayer, when it is authentic, demands this of us. Do we give it?

Do we filter what we pray so that our words, thoughts and requests reflect who we think God wants us to be instead of who we are? Do we pray our pain? Do we pray our hurt? Are we honest with God about our sin? 

Surely we don't hold back because we think God doesn't know who we are?

If we aren't honest in our prayers, is it because being honest and vulnerable before God means being honest with ourselves?

And maybe that is something we need to pray about.

The Facets of Salvation

Eugene Peterson's book, Psalms: Prayers of the Heart, suggests that we look at Psalm 103 as a poem that expresses the experience of salvation. I read the Psalm and listed what I found as the facets of salvation (from Psalm 103)

The Lord:

• hears our prayers
• forgives our sins
• heals our deiseases
• redeems our lives from the Pit
• grants us steadfast love
• gives us mercy
• satisfies us
• stays with us as long as we live
• renews our youth
• lifts us up like an eagle
• works vidication
• brings justice
• makes himself known
• is gracious
• is slow to anger
• is filled with love
• sometimes does not accuse
• does not keep his anger forever
• does not deal with us according to our sin
• does not repay us for what we have done wrong
• has love that is larger than we can imagine
• separates us from our sin with a distance that we cannot express
• loves us as children
• is compassionate toward us
• remembers how we are made
• remembers that we are from dust
• has love that is eternal, and gives it to us

Doing Bad vs. Being Bad

This afternoon I was reading in Eugene Peterson's Psalms: Prayers of the Heart.  The Chapter centers around Psalm 51, which is attributed to David following his actions with Bathsheba.

Peterson writes this:

Our experience of sin does not consist in doing some bad things but in being bad. it is a fundamental condition of our existence, not a temporary lapse into error. Praying our sin isn't resolving not to sin anymore; it is discovering what God has resolved to do with us as sinners.

What are your thoughts?

1. We often thing that granting someone forgiveness hinges on their commitment to not hurt us again. If our prayers to God do not hinge on such a condition - and if what Peterson says is true, then this is the case - then why should we only grant forgiveness to people who resolve to not sin again? Is it possible to promise to not sin again?
2. Doesn't grace gain a bigger meaning if what Peterson says is true? God isn't granting us pardon for what we have done - God is working within us to change us.
3. And is this what sanctifying grace means? 

How Can That Be?

On Wednesday evenings at my church we are studying the book Psalms: Prayers of the Heart by Eugene Peterson.  Each week we look at a different Psalm and consider how it is a prayer in our life.  The introduction of Psalm 8's chapter asks, "When traveling, have you ever awakened and not known where you were?" I think we all experience that sometimes - maybe when traveling, maybe after an unusually timed nap. Peterson says that Psalm 8 is an orienting act of prayer, so I worked on rewriting it as if I began in that odd feeling of not knowing where I was.

My eyes open,

and I don't know where I am.

Everything is unfamiliar.

Everything is strange.

The only certainty is you, O God.

Majestic and glorious.

Dwelling in heaven

Dwelling in me.

How can that be?

I look around this uncertain place,

and I see what I cannot understand,

what I do not comprehend.

You stop your enemies with the word of a child.

You bring peace amid anger and hatred

by returning none of it.

Revenge may be sweet to you, O God,

but only because it is love,

returned for hatred.

How can that be?

I stand in this uncertain place,

and I look up at the sky.

I am struck silent by the stars

which you set in their places,

by the moon, steady and bright.

Who are we? Who am I 

that you would even notice me?

That you would care about me?

But not only do you think of us,

not only do we dwell in your mind,

but you dwell among us.

How can that be?

I stand in this place, uncertain and lost,

and am overwhelmed by the certainty

that you have created us.

Shape us in your own image,

made us into your own children

so that in each other

we see you.

How can that be?

Around me stands all of your creation.

Everything in your world - 

the sheep, the cows, the animals

the birds, the fish

All that dwells with us

Entrusted to us.

How can that be?

I awake in uncertainty

but come to life

in your creation.