Wednesday, March 27, 2019
For Jeduthun, the choir director: A psalm of David.
I said to myself, “I will watch what I do and not sin in what I say. I will hold my tongue when the ungodly are around me.” But as I stood there in silence—not even speaking of good things—the turmoil within me grew worse. The more I thought about it, the hotter I got, igniting a fire of words: “Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is. You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand. My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.” Interlude
We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing. We heap up wealth, not knowing who will spend it. And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you. Rescue me from my rebellion. Do not let fools mock me. I am silent before you; I won’t say a word, for my punishment is from you. But please stop striking me! I am exhausted by the blows from your hand. When you discipline us for our sins, you consume like a moth what is precious to us. Each of us is but a breath. Interlude
Hear my prayer, O Lord! Listen to my cries for help! Don’t ignore my tears. For I am your guest—a traveler passing through, as my ancestors were before me. Leave me alone so I can smile again before I am gone and exist no more. Psalm 39:1-13
Anyone who
has been to a funeral has heard the wise words of Solomon:
For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. Ecclesiastes 3:1-2a
Solomon wrote
that the meaning and weight of all the activities of humans is vanity
or emptiness. In Warren Wiersbe’s series
of books entitled “BE” he tells of a favorite seminary professor who described Solomon’s
characterization of the stuff we do, say, and think, and the impact it leaves
on the rest of us, as what you have left over after you pop a soap bubble….poof…all
gone; quite a picture of 70 years, plus or minus!
Solomon
got at least some of his wisdom from his father, King David. And in the Psalm, which David gave to one of
his Temple music directors for use in public worship, David pours out his heart
over this brief life and its associated stubbed toe times, when we walk in pain
and sorrow.
The ancients
saw everything as coming from God – good stuff, bad stuff, and the arbitrary
nature of it all – God seemingly laying hard stuff on our shoulders during good
times or bad, whether we know we’ve sinned or have just messed it up without a
clue – it’s like a maze, a strange puzzle to be navigated by the unknowing,
unsuspecting pilgrim on planet earth, trying not to tick God off.
Now, that’s
quite different from today, when most of humanity barely acknowledges God,
choosing rather to assume that we’re alone in this universe, and everything
that happens is chance, the universe working-out its immutable and harsh changes,
no matter who gets in the way.
The dividing
line between the ancients and moderns, however, is the cross of Jesus
Christ. As man discovered, and is still
discovering, the complexity of human existence, and the beauty and order which
God imputed to His creation (because of his own nature of beauty, power, and
orderly Sovereign love), man is always faced with the choice between faith in
God and relying on self.
In the
end, and for the largest share of his life, David chose to trust all, whether vanity
or meaning, to God’s care. For my
two-cent’s worth, it was the best choice.
For You Today
Many
people scramble through this breath of a life trying to make their mark,
accomplish big things, and leave a legacy. When that soap bubble pops because of a
stubbed toe of some kind, that’s usually God whispering. So, sit still and listen; unless, of course,
you’re satisfied with vanity.
No comments:
Post a Comment