Eric W. Sayers

The text: Psalm 138 – NRSV

Here we have another lovely psalm of thanksgiving. This is another psalm to read slowly, treasuring every phrase. As you read, note the three stanzas, and how each one ends with a statement about why the psalmist is thankful to God. As you read it and pray it, allow experiences from your own life to surface, and let the expressions of thanks become your own.

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The text: Psalm 127 – NRSV

“Well begun is half done.” This proverb attributed to Aristotle certainly sums up much of what I have learned about project management. I have found that one can predict the success of a project largely based on the quality of the planning that preceded the work. This little psalm attributed to Solomon takes this idea a step further, reminding us that all of our efforts begin with God and God’s gifts, and that God is the sure foundation on which we should build all of our work.

While the second half of this psalm may appear to be merely about the benefits of a large family, it’s worth considering that in the ancient world, family was the primary source of labor. It still is in many instances today. If we apply this to our current workplaces, perhaps this passage speaks to us about our teams of co-workers and the importance of working together in unity. If we apply this to our lives of faith, then this family, this team, is none other than the church. How does the psalm speak to you about your own ministry and those who labor alongside you? How would your work change if your “well begun” was none other than God?

Curious about this series of posts? Read the initial post.

Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 8 – NRSV

This is one of those psalms that can really leave you standing agape if you let it. It is very much as it appears: a lyrical and sweeping hymn of praise to our creator God. But it also addresses one of the most profound and central questions of faith. In my life I’ve known several agnostics and have counted them as good friends. In my experience a common objection to Christianity and other religions goes something like this: if there is a being so vast as to create the universe, how can we possibly claim with a straight face that this being cares about, much less loves every human that has ever lived? Nonsense! Or, how is it possible that we can know or understand anything about such a being? Considering that not that long ago we were convinced that the earth is flat and that the earth lies at the center of the universe, our track record at understanding our world is not that great. Even today we discover new species on our little planet all the time. We understand so little about our world, to say nothing of the (very much wider) universe. To be honest, as we have discussed, we have a great deal of trouble understanding ourselves. So how can we expect to understand a being like God? It seems ridiculous and impossible. But setting our ineptitudes aside for a moment, even if you allow that a being like God exists (and more than a few agnostics I have met do allow this), then by necessity this being would be completely inaccessible to us. Such a being must exist beyond space, beyond time, beyond the universe. Completely inaccessible. Up to this point in the argument, I totally agree. Without doubt God is a being so different from us that we cannot expect to understand any part of God’s nature. In fact, God seems to make this very point speaking through Isaiah:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

So how then can we possibly know anything about this God? This is indeed the very question Psalm 8 is asking.

The answer is simple: God contacted us. The pivot is in v. 5: Yet you have made them…yet you have given them… We had nothing to do with it. At the dawn of civilization in Mesopotamia people began preserving stories of these contacts, initially nucleating around the family of Abram, and people have been collecting these stories ever since.

This is the amazing proclamation of faith: as in creation, God always acts first. So this Lent, perhaps this psalm calls us to draw closer to a God who is utterly non-human, beyond anything we can conceive, and yet chooses to draw so close to us. This is, of course, God’s grace. No wonder this is such a psalm of exuberant praise!

O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 3 – NRSV

Life is hard and full of challenges. This we all know. So it shouldn’t be surprising that about one-third of the psalter are laments, songs of sorrow, pain, and suffering. Psalm 3 is the first lament we encounter in the collection, so perhaps it’s appropriate to pause and consider how great a gift these psalms are. In my view, we should not read laments as if the tragedy was happening to someone else. We rather should place ourselves in the psalm as the speaker, and in doing so laments show us how to bring our suffering to God in prayer. This is especially true of individual laments like this psalm, where the speaker is clearly a human individual speaking directly to God. The foes, enemies, and threats are never named, allowing us to substitute freely into the text whatever challenges we are facing.

I’ll add one final note of encouragement. Many of us tend to suffer in silence, as our cultures often regard suffering as a weakness. We humans tend to isolate ourselves from other people when we are feeling sick, down, sad, or troubled. The risk is that when we feel this way, we may also isolate ourselves from God, treating God as if God were human. The good news, as we have discussed, is that God’s presence is always available, right beside us, and laments are a gateway to that presence when we feel unable to reach out. Laments give us permission to “unload” our feelings on God, and assurance that God will not recoil. God can take it. Even better, God will meet us halfway in the midst of the prayer.

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The text: Psalm 49 – NRSV

This is the time of year that I am most reminded of my Oklahoma childhood. It was this time of year when we would look to the west and watch the puffy clouds assemble into towering cumulonimbi around lunchtime, and we would wonder if today would be the day when a massive tornadic supercell would tear through town taking our homes, and possibly our lives, with it. Tornadoes tend to focus the mind, and have a very clarifying effect on one’s view of the permanence of physical property.

At first glance, it may be tempting to reduce this wisdom psalm to cliches: “you can’t take it with you” or “we all meet the same end”. We may feel like throwing up our hands at yet another Biblical diatribe about the dangers of wealth. But why is the psalmist not afraid of the rich and powerful? There’s a wonderful little jewel of seemingly New Testament hope in this psalm. Can you find it? When the storms of life rage, what can we truly trust? Because the thing about tornadoes is that they pass by rapidly and dissipate into nothingness, leaving one to wonder, what are the things the storm can never touch?

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The text: Psalm 139 – NRSV

So today, on this Monday and St. Patrick’s Day, we are dealing with a titan. Psalm 139 is well known and loved for many reasons, but perhaps among them are the astonishing claims it makes about the incredibly personal nature of our relationship with God. There is so much to be said, and we can only begin here. The psalm is hard to classify, as it has elements of trust, wisdom, praise, and toward the end, anger. To me, the psalmist is deeply faithful yet deeply troubled, perhaps by those people mentioned v. 19-24, and perhaps even more because of the psalmist’s awareness of how close this relationship with God is.

To begin, we cannot hide any part of ourselves from God. This God who knew all about us before we existed sees us more clearly and transparently than we will ever see ourselves. Here’s the problem: we put on masks and hide behind them all the time. We set up all manner of psychological defenses. We lie to ourselves about ourselves continuously. We are so accustomed to our masks and lies that even the slightest thought of full exposure is terrifying. Then our fear response kicks in, our higher brain shuts down, and it all becomes that much worse. As Paul says, I find it to be a law that, when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched person that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Exactly. You see now why the poor psalmist is conflicted? And we haven’t even considered all the things about ourselves that are completely unknown to us (but known to God)! So the horrifying problem and the profoundly good news of this psalm is that in our relationship with God, full exposure is our continuous state.

Many years ago a light bulb flashed in my mind while reading about the practice of continual prayer, the idea that all of life can be considered one unbroken prayer. This prayer is rarely verbal, but instead an awareness that in everything we do, God is right there beside us, doing it with us. To me, it is inescapable that this is precisely the kind of relationship that Psalm 139 asserts, at least from God’s side! What if the “where can I go” language in v. 7-12 is less about a physical journey and more of a mental, emotional, or spiritual journey? If so, if we take this psalm seriously, what are the consequences for our prayer lives? Perhaps one answer is that when we pray, we don’t need to tell God things that God already knows (which is basically everything about us). We may need to spend more time listening to God reveal to us things about ourselves that we don’t know! Here’s another problem, and I suspect the psalmist knew it all too well: if through our relationship with God we learn more about ourselves, then there is a 100% chance that this knowledge will cause us to change. The psalmist really wanted to hate those people and have God kill them. But just like Jonah was very concerned that God might have mercy on those Ninevites, I bet the psalmist was very concerned that God had other ideas. Why else would the psalm end with the questions in v. 23-24? This is the inherent risk and joy of sanctification, the journey of faith. We can always be better. There is always a next step.

Oh, what a beautiful and dangerous psalm this is!

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The text: Psalm 33 – NRSV

Well, we’ve made it through the first week! As promised, on this “little Easter” we have a psalm of praise to God. At this point you’re likely seeing reflections between the psalms we’ve already read. The psalms are like many-faceted jewels, each face a mirror showing images from other psalms and scenes from Israel’s long history with God. With time, perhaps those faces show images of your own experience with God, reflected through the lens of Scripture. In this beautiful song of praise, we see God the eternal creator (Psalm 90), God seated high over all the nations yet who sees us where we are (Psalm 113), the foolishness of putting our trust in earthly powers (or idols! Psalm 115), and images as God being our strength and shield (Psalm 46). I’m sure if you take a moment to look back over the psalms of the past week, you will find more connections to call your own. What other Old or New Testament stories come to mind as your read Psalm 33? What connections from your experience emerge? Celebrate them all, for in each one you see, you glimpse the unity of Scripture a bit more clearly.

I will add a quick personal testimony if it’s helpful. I didn’t plan any for any of these connections. In one sitting I paged through all 150 psalms, noted down the ones that spoke to me with a word or two describing each one, and then using only those words quickly arranged them so that there was some variety in each week. So I had the entire schedule before I began any writing, trusting that all of these revelations would emerge along the journey. In my experience, this is how the Holy Spirit works, and the Holy Spirit never disappoints. I hope that you also find your own revelations as we journey. I have no doubt that you will!

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The text: Psalm 113 – NRSV

This is a remarkable little psalm that sings the praises of a truly remarkable God. The third verse is the basis of several praise anthems (From the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, the name of the Lord shall be praised…) The psalm is also the first of a collection of psalms known as the “Egyptian Hallel” (Psalms 113-118) that are commonly sung during Passover, and so is central to the Jewish remembrance of God’s saving act in the Exodus. This context illuminates the truly remarkable nature of this God, who sits high but in humility descends to Earth to raise up the poor and lift up the needy. What strange, “ungodlike” behavior! Gods of the ancient world, whether Canaan, Egypt, Rome, or Greece, lorded their divinity over mere mortals, who were often pawns in their divine games and squabbles. Not so with the God of Israel, who was in the business of siding with the least, the last, and the lost long before the Christ came. Perhaps this really is a God that we’re more likely to find on a park bench rather than a jeweled throne, or in a hospital room rather than a gilded tower, or in a homeless shelter rather than a …. I’ll let you fill that one in, and maybe others like it. What does it mean to serve a God like this? You may find it to be truly remarkable!

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The text: Psalm 90 – NRSV

This psalm seems to be right at home in Lent. It’s a very “Ash Wednesday” psalm, even stating in v. 3 the equivalent of “remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return.” It also has a bit of Ecclesiastes in it, getting close to that “vanity of vanity, all is vanity” sentiment in v. 9-10, seeming to wallow in the continual toil of our brief lives.

Where exactly is the good news in any of that? Why do any of us need to hear that just before the weekend? And why am I subjecting you (and me) to it?

In a word: perspective. This is why Lent is so important. It serves as a corrective, a healthy reset of our crazy lives. It’s like looking into a really good mirror that shows us the truth about who, what, and whose we are. Look, none of us likes to think about our own death, about the mortal nature of our bodies and earthly lives. Consider, for a few moments, how many aspects of our economy, culture, and entertainment are dedicated to attempting to eradicate this fundamental nature of our existence. We would much rather pretend it didn’t exist and get on with our lives on our own, but in so doing we risk running ahead of God and becoming even more lost in the process. Worse, by shying away from our mortality, from avoiding it, we risk missing out on the true nature of God’s gift to us. What gift?

In a word: presence. Look at how the psalmist concludes this song. Far from being despairing, the psalmist exults in the promise of God based on the sure trust in the relationship the psalmist enjoys with the Creator. Focusing our minds, hearts, and spirits on that true relationship that we mortal creatures have with our Creator is the surest way for us to allow God to work through us, and prosper the work of our hands. That is the great gift, the eternal presence of a loving God in the eternal present that we will always occupy with God. As Paul says in the end of Romans 8, death (nor anything else, by the way) has no bearing on this. As another psalmist sings in Psalm 139 (yep, we’ll get there next week): Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?  God has this unrelenting habit of always showing up, of always being there, regardless of where we are or what’s going on, if only we have eyes to see. Thanks be to God!

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The text: Psalm 62 – NRSV

If you’ve been following along, today’s psalm is a bit of a change of pace. This gentle psalm is one to savor. Its message is simple: that only God is worthy of our trust. All I will say about trust is that, like many things in life, it is easy to break but very hard to restore. If you are someone who has experienced broken trust, then I hope this psalm may help you find a way back. Finding trust in God is the sure foundation of faith.

Read it slowly. Take your time. Pause often. Let every word speak. Note the unlabeled, repeated refrain in v. 1-2 and 5-6. Let its rhythm guide your reading. If memorizing helps you, perhaps try memorizing this refrain. If you want to try lectio divina, perhaps for the first time, this is a wonderful psalm to explore. I wish you joy in your exploring!

Curious about this series of posts? Read the initial post.

Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.