Psalm 30
Most
of the time, I love the darkness. On any given night, in our little piece of
heaven, the stars give adequate light for a midnight stroll. But last Sunday
evening was not one of those times. I had just watched the latest episode of
Game of Thrones where the combined forces of four royal houses were making a
desperate last stand against the Army of the Dead. Hero after hero died trying
to stop the unholy terror only to be resurrected into the enemy’s force. It was
both thrilling and horrific. And then it was over. I clicked off the TV and
made my way to the bedroom to recover from an exhausting day. I knew I would
dream. I knew the dreams might not be pleasant, but I was not prepared for what
was about to happen. I was awakened from my deep sleep by a shrill voice.
“Louie, there is an animal on the deck.”
Deb
had only watched ten minutes of Game of Thrones so I knew her imagination was
not the result of some TV fantasy. I was also aware that Deb does not share my
love of everything dark. Less than
thrilled, I got out of bed, grabbed a flash light and shone it out on the deck.
I heard a noise and figured it was a squirrel. I retreated to my bed and
drifted back to my dreams of dragons and monsters. Again, in the midst of my nightmare,
I was hysterically interrupted, “It’s not a squirrel. It’s a bear. Do
something.” (stop)
Fantasy
can be eliminated by turning on the lights. But in life, the lights are already
on. I have yet to discover a Psalm that serves as an antidote to a bear in the
backyard. But I do believe the Psalms have a way of helping us through
nightmares that may or may not be dreams.
O Lord you rescued my soul from death. You
restored me to life from among those who would destroy me.
Like any great
literature most biblical stories dance from tragedy to redemption. An enslaved
people escape death through parted waters. A bald lover rediscovers his
strength. A boy slays a giant with a slingshot. A crucified rabbi is
resurrected. A first round loser wins a
national championship. Okay UVA’s victory was not biblical, but it certainly
was a manifestation of how the dawn is always before us if we have the courage
to open our eyes.
The
truth is, most days a bear is not in the back yard. Deb and I have lived in
Stoney Creek eight years, four months and five days. To be exact we have been
here 3,221 nights. 3220 of them have been bear free. The same came be said for
most of nightmares. I spend a lot of time with folks in the hospital. Let’s
face it, we are getting older and some of our parts are starting to break down.
You would be surprised how often in a private moment a person facing death has
said to me, “God has been so good to me.” This is not a lament of resignation.
It is the courage to speak the truth. What greater faith can there be than in
the midst of death to sing a song of redemption?
The
Psalmist sang, You have turned my
mourning into dancing. You have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.
My soul will praise you and I will not be silent. I will give thanks to you
forever.
In
a world which surrounds itself with drama, the Psalmist is asking us to sing a
song of remembrance. Psalm 30 could have been sung by someone who woke up to
discover the bear had left. But I think there are far more reasons to sing. Remember
your first friend. Remember turning a double play. Remember your first kiss. Remember
your first job offer. Remember smelling the ocean. Remember your first child’s
birth. Remember climbing Humpback with your daughter. Remember watching the sun
rise. Remember hearing Eva Cassidy sing.
Remember the silence that breaks into our noise. Remember holy words that break
into our discontent.
O
God, shine forth into the darkness of our night.
Melt
the frost that encompasses our soul.
Wake
us into the dawn of a new day,
Fill
us with colors that we have too long ignored.
Turn
our mourning into dancing.
Turn
our screaming into singing,
Help
us remember how good You have been to us.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment