Isaiah 51:1-6; Matthew 16:13-20; Romans 12:1-8
Part of who I am is a statistician. It began in high school and continues to this day. So let me throw some statistics at you about this passage from Isaiah. This is particularly for you grammarians.
There are three kinds of verbs: imperatives, past tense, and future tense.
The imperative is used seven times: listen (twice), look (three times), pay attention, gaze. These imperatives are all directed at the people to whom the prophet addressed these words. More on them later.
The past tense is used six times: were cut, were dug, gave birth, were also, blessed, and made many.
The future tense is 13 times: will comfort (twice), will make, will be found, will go out, will bring, hope, wait, will disappear, will wear out, will die, will endure, will be unbroken.
The prophet enjoins his listeners, which now includes later readers, and at this very moment each of us, not just to remember the past, but more decidedly to imagine the future. The prophet speaks words which Americans need to hear to day. He calls you and me look beyond the good and bad wonders of the past to a future which will endure forever and a righteousness which will be unbroken. The prophet calls all-right and alt-left, fascists and antifas to go beyond the myopic narrowness of their world views and to imagine right relationships with God and with each other, and through imagining to welcome God to create the future.
Our God is a creative and creating God who through prophets and evangelists, through gospel and prayer calls each of us to participate in imagining what God desires the fulfilled and final creation to look like. Imagining together is shared creating. The community of God’s people are invited to act in a good way like a committee, not finding the least common denominator, but in sharing and evolving together so that the dignity, the humanity, the imprinted image of God is visible and available to all.
It is easy for us to slough off the prophet’s words and claim that they apply to those people out there. They do, but they also apply to us, if not exactly in the current larger context, then most certainly in our own more local context.
The prophet spoke these words originally to “you who look for righteousness, you who seek the Lord.” Who were these people? They were the persecuted remnant of the exiles returning from Babylon who still believed in the goodness of God and the power of God to do good in the world. They believed this in spite of the rubble of Jerusalem that they tramped through and in spite of the jaded secular-leaning, done-with-God attitude prevalent in so many of the returning exiles. For so many, God had failed to uphold what they thought God had promised, God had failed to protect Jerusalem, God had turned his back and forgotten his own people. They looked down on those who still believed in God. Had it existed, they would have tweeted all manner of scorn and derision against them.
Isaiah spoke to the despairing believers to encourage them in the midst of the rubble of Jerusalem, their trashed past glory, and their dashed hopes and dreams. They are in shock and can’t imagine how they will ever be able to rebuild all that was destroyed, replant all that was laid to waste, and restore all that was lost. To them the prophet says, Remember what God has done and know that God can and will do it again.
This is a message for today for the church in North America and other places where dying communities, aging congregations, dwindling budgets, and increasing costs run up against the hope that the church will survive long enough to bury each of us before turning the lights out and locking the door. And all this is set against a backdrop of culture shifts that have moved the Christian Church and most other religious organizations from the center of life to the corners, like so many shy introverts at a school year opening dance.
Despite those generalities, every congregation is unique and goes through its own equivalent to destruction, exile, and return. You are in the throes of that now. The calm idyllic life of Sunday worship with few demands for involvement and the comforting knowledge that things are well run and won’t get out of hand has been shattered by the reality of a significant change. The one who has worked to keep things steady for so many years while trying to move things toward a wider visibility and greater viability in a changing community is leaving. Not in anger, not in despair; just because it is time to move on.
The walls are crashing down around us, the core of our being is being shaken, the certainty of steadiness is dissolving. It is as if the eclipse happened, but the sun didn’t return.
The prophet doesn’t wallow in despair about how bad things are. Verbally he grabs the listeners by the shoulders and says, “Wake up. Have you forgotten what God has done at a variety of times in your history? If God did it then, God will do again.”
In our own situation, there are still two people in the congregation that remember when the expansion project on the back of 1842 building on North Street got into the sand backfill from the old canal bed and the rear wall of the building collapsed destroying the organ and exposing the sanctuary. Your ancestors in faith were devastated, but they moved forward every Friday evening serving home cooked meals to atomic plant construction workers to pay off the initial project expense and all the extra needed to rebuild the sanctuary wall.
Only eight of you were here when Pastor Roger Kelsey died in 1968 following a lengthy debilitating disease. The congregation, your faith forebears, sorrowed with Carol Kelsey, supported her, and moved on to call a new pastor to lead them.
There are less than 20 people in the congregation who were around in 1986 when Pastor Jack Pursell was encouraged to leave. This happened about the same time the atomic plant started its decline towards ultimate closure. Some congregants left because of the plant reduction, others left because of the internal struggle. But those that remained united and faced the future. The pastor nominating committee called a pastor with eleven years experience working in a small, non-urban church.
Forty percent of the current congregation weren’t here during the years leading up to the building of this building and making the journey from the old building to the new one sixteen years ago today. But many people from all walks of life and avenues of experienced envisioned what the future could be without steps and with amenities like parking, adequate comfort facilities, and an welcoming, hospitable atmosphere. People like Dick Craumer, Louise Jamison, John Hamlin, Maryanna Cassady, Clarence Monroe led countless others to make this place happen. The note I got with the check from Clarence Monroe’s estate to pay off the mortgage said it all: “Money is for mission, not mortgages.”
Now we are in 2017. It’s a new time, a new challenge, a new opportunity. Yes, the past has been glorious, and God did lead your predecessors well and wisely. So, who is going to say that God won’t do it again? The last thirty years have seen challenges, disappointments, more funerals than baptisms, confirmations, and marriages combined, tremendous Spirit presence in our midst, and more blessings than we can shake a Bible at. So, who is going to say that God won’t continue to hold us in the palm of the divine hand?
That’s the question Isaiah asks. That’s the affirmation that Isaiah makes.
Listen to me, you who look for righteousness, you who seek the Lord:
Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry where you were dug. . . .
Pay attention to me, my people;
listen to me, my nation,
for teaching will go out from me,
my justice, as a light to the nations.
I will quickly bring my victory.
My salvation is on its way, . . .
[T]he earth will wear out like clothing,
and its inhabitants will die like gnats.
But my salvation will endure forever,
and my righteousness will be unbroken.
Isaiah does say that this world will evaporate, but he also says that those whom God delivers will not. The garden of joy, gladness, thanksgiving, and song that has been prepared for the redeemed will endure. Let your vital faith in God overrule your fears so that with God you can press forward through what may look like a barren, wasted land to the future which God has already prepared for you. There you will find strength and peace in the temporary gardens God planted in the deserts of our forebears, but even more in the expansive horizon of the garden that will finally, unshakably, perennially thrive.
The future will always be with us. Let’s not go back to the past but let us go back to the future with the God who will provide.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Pray Before the Storm
Matthew 14:22-33; 1 Kings 19:9-18; Psalm 85:8-13
We all know the basics of the story of Jesus walking on the water. It’s a story that sticks in our minds, especially if we learned it early in our church training. It is a highly visual story and gives way easily to the imagination.
Often, however, we only visualize the roiling sea, the buffeted boat, and the eerie presence on the waters. We forget to take into account the opening scene. Jesus has sent the disciples on their way to cross the lake. He then retreats into the surrounding hills to be alone for prayer.
Jae Won Lee, a New Testament professor at McCormick Seminary in Chicago, says that this episode is parallel to the preceding one when Jesus fed the 5,000. The feeding happened in a isolated and deserted place. The mountain prayer retreat of Jesus is also an isolated place. According to Lee, Jesus' isolation on a mountain makes for an alternative to the rampant unbelief in his homeland and to the brutal imperial world of Herod Antipas who held sway over the Galilean region.(1) The air of the day was as rife with anxiety as our local air is heavy with humidity.
The contrast and the tension is quickly evident in the way the passage is put together. Jesus is alone on the mountain. At the same time, the disciples are in a boat on rough waters, separated from Jesus. Jesus comes to them walking on the lake’s surface. Jesus’ sea-walking leads to the question of Jesus' identity, which then prompts Peter's unsuccessful attempt to walk on the water. This necessitates Peter’s rescue by Jesus to save him. This is followed by an exhortation by Jesus to trust. The storm abates, the sea becomes calm, and the other disciples, perhaps Peter, too, declare that Jesus must be God’s Son.
When Jesus sent the disciples out in the boat, did he know that the storm was going to come up and cause them great distress? We can’t say for sure. But we can make some general assumptions, which are: storms happen; storms happen when we least expect them; storms always cause anxiety.
As is so often quipped, life is what happens when we are busy making other plans. Can’t you hear the conversation that the disciples might have been having as they started sailing across the lake. They were thinking of a home-cooked breakfast, a chance to catch some shut-eye, and perhaps a lull in the nearly relentless ministry which Jesus had led them on. They wanted a different kind of calm than what Jesus was experiencing in the emptiness of the isolated hills. They want relaxation, entertainment, and no responsibilities. They thought that if Jesus stayed away a while, they could fall back into the carefree groove of their former lives. At least the attending anxieties were familiar.
Then something happened. That nasty storm came up. The headwinds were driving them if not backward, then certainly far from the port they had intended to put into. Storms happen. When we least want or need them.
The curious thing about this story is that it isn’t the storm which scares the disciples. Some of them were seasoned sailors. What scares the disciples, what causes them to scream, is Jesus. The presence of Jesus heightens their anxiety.
We live in an anxious world. Our blood pressure goes up with each succeeding newscast. Or when the doctor’s office calls after routine tests. Or when a family member calls on an unexpected day. Or when we see the list on BVTV of a new admission to the Bristol Health Center or a new death.
We want the calm we have known in times past. We don’t want the weight of life on our shoulders. We want safe harbor. We don’t want more anxiety.
But we got it. Last January one very calm portion of our lives went on storm watch, and as the days pass by the storm gets closer and closer. Our anxiety grows because the solid sailing of our life as a congregation started becoming unmoored. Pastor Rick is leaving and taking the boat with him.
The lake of congregational life is day by day getting more and more roiled with anxiety:
• Who is going to preach?
• Who is going to do my memorial service?
• Who is going to unlock and lock the building?
• Who is going to know who to call when the air conditioning goes out?
• Who is going to explain how the copier works?
• Who is going to have the nifty ideas of how to celebrate Advent?
• Who is going to know what to do if we make a mistake with the accounting system?
And on and on and on.
Together we have lived on the boat of the ministry of one individual for many years. It’s been a solid boat for the most part, nothing that an occasional week in dry dock couldn’t help, a pat on gunwale, or a new oar every now and then. We never expected the kind of storm we got when the boat decided to stop sailing altogether.
Cliff Kirkpatrick, former stated clerk of the General Assembly, tells of attending an ecumenical gathering at which Ernest Campbell, then the pastor of Riverside Church in New York, addressed a group of pastors on the crisis in churches. Campbell asserted that the reason that we seem to lack faith in our time is that we are not doing anything that requires it. Kirkpatrick thought Campbell was right. The key to faith and fullness of life in Christ is to follow Peter’s example and be willing to step out of the comfort and security of the boat and head into the troubled waters of the world to proclaim the love, mercy, and justice of God that we find in Jesus Christ. Being a disciple is a risky and exciting business, but that is exactly what God calls us to do and to be, and God assures us that if we get out of the boat, we can count on the accompaniment of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.(2)
Who prompts Peter to get of the boat in the midst of the storm? Jesus. Jesus says, “Come.”
Where do we see Jesus in the midst of the storm?
We don’t see Jesus in the throes of our anxiety. Nor do we see Jesus by denying that we are anxious.
We don’t see Jesus in the dream that the next pastor will be the magic bullet for Waverly First Presbyterian Church, a super-pastor who will be all things to all people and who will bring in the masses (who will be just like us, of course).
We don’t see Jesus in desiring a new boat that is the exact replica of the one we have had.
We don’t see Jesus in focusing inward and thinking only of ourselves and our personal needs.
We don’t see Jesus in thinking that if we could only turn the clock back to 1980, 1974, 1963, to the good old days when nothing went wrong. Only those weren’t good days. 1980 – Iran hostage crisis; 1974 – President Nixon’s resignation; 1963 – President Kennedy’s assassination.
Where do we see Jesus in the midst of our roiling life together?
We see Jesus at prayer. The gospel doesn’t tell us what Jesus was praying for in the mountain retreat. It doesn’t need to. As Jae Won Lee pointed out, Jesus was praying for belief by those whom God had called to be his in the midst of cultural and institutional unbelief. The boat doesn’t matter. The lake doesn’t matter. Jesus matters.
The disciples screamed when they saw Jesus. Were they afraid of Jesus? Were they scared of Jesus? Were they ashamed of Jesus? Were they like children who were caught with their hands in the cookie jar? Did they suspect that Jesus knew that their belief was weak?
William H. Willimon, Duke Divinity School theologian and United Methodist Church bishop, may have put it best in a sermon entitled, “How Will You Know If It's Jesus?”:
Pray before the storm.
(1) Jae Won Lee, "Matthew 14:22-33 – Exegetical Perspective," Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 333.
(2) Clifton Kirkpatrick, "Matthew 14:22-33 – Pastoral Perspective," Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 334, 336.
(3) William H. Willimon, "How Will You Know If It’s Jesus," August 7, 2005, http://day1.org/950_how_will_you_know_if_its_jesus.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
We all know the basics of the story of Jesus walking on the water. It’s a story that sticks in our minds, especially if we learned it early in our church training. It is a highly visual story and gives way easily to the imagination.
Often, however, we only visualize the roiling sea, the buffeted boat, and the eerie presence on the waters. We forget to take into account the opening scene. Jesus has sent the disciples on their way to cross the lake. He then retreats into the surrounding hills to be alone for prayer.
Jae Won Lee, a New Testament professor at McCormick Seminary in Chicago, says that this episode is parallel to the preceding one when Jesus fed the 5,000. The feeding happened in a isolated and deserted place. The mountain prayer retreat of Jesus is also an isolated place. According to Lee, Jesus' isolation on a mountain makes for an alternative to the rampant unbelief in his homeland and to the brutal imperial world of Herod Antipas who held sway over the Galilean region.(1) The air of the day was as rife with anxiety as our local air is heavy with humidity.
The contrast and the tension is quickly evident in the way the passage is put together. Jesus is alone on the mountain. At the same time, the disciples are in a boat on rough waters, separated from Jesus. Jesus comes to them walking on the lake’s surface. Jesus’ sea-walking leads to the question of Jesus' identity, which then prompts Peter's unsuccessful attempt to walk on the water. This necessitates Peter’s rescue by Jesus to save him. This is followed by an exhortation by Jesus to trust. The storm abates, the sea becomes calm, and the other disciples, perhaps Peter, too, declare that Jesus must be God’s Son.
When Jesus sent the disciples out in the boat, did he know that the storm was going to come up and cause them great distress? We can’t say for sure. But we can make some general assumptions, which are: storms happen; storms happen when we least expect them; storms always cause anxiety.
As is so often quipped, life is what happens when we are busy making other plans. Can’t you hear the conversation that the disciples might have been having as they started sailing across the lake. They were thinking of a home-cooked breakfast, a chance to catch some shut-eye, and perhaps a lull in the nearly relentless ministry which Jesus had led them on. They wanted a different kind of calm than what Jesus was experiencing in the emptiness of the isolated hills. They want relaxation, entertainment, and no responsibilities. They thought that if Jesus stayed away a while, they could fall back into the carefree groove of their former lives. At least the attending anxieties were familiar.
Then something happened. That nasty storm came up. The headwinds were driving them if not backward, then certainly far from the port they had intended to put into. Storms happen. When we least want or need them.
The curious thing about this story is that it isn’t the storm which scares the disciples. Some of them were seasoned sailors. What scares the disciples, what causes them to scream, is Jesus. The presence of Jesus heightens their anxiety.
We live in an anxious world. Our blood pressure goes up with each succeeding newscast. Or when the doctor’s office calls after routine tests. Or when a family member calls on an unexpected day. Or when we see the list on BVTV of a new admission to the Bristol Health Center or a new death.
We want the calm we have known in times past. We don’t want the weight of life on our shoulders. We want safe harbor. We don’t want more anxiety.
But we got it. Last January one very calm portion of our lives went on storm watch, and as the days pass by the storm gets closer and closer. Our anxiety grows because the solid sailing of our life as a congregation started becoming unmoored. Pastor Rick is leaving and taking the boat with him.
The lake of congregational life is day by day getting more and more roiled with anxiety:
• Who is going to preach?
• Who is going to do my memorial service?
• Who is going to unlock and lock the building?
• Who is going to know who to call when the air conditioning goes out?
• Who is going to explain how the copier works?
• Who is going to have the nifty ideas of how to celebrate Advent?
• Who is going to know what to do if we make a mistake with the accounting system?
And on and on and on.
Together we have lived on the boat of the ministry of one individual for many years. It’s been a solid boat for the most part, nothing that an occasional week in dry dock couldn’t help, a pat on gunwale, or a new oar every now and then. We never expected the kind of storm we got when the boat decided to stop sailing altogether.
Cliff Kirkpatrick, former stated clerk of the General Assembly, tells of attending an ecumenical gathering at which Ernest Campbell, then the pastor of Riverside Church in New York, addressed a group of pastors on the crisis in churches. Campbell asserted that the reason that we seem to lack faith in our time is that we are not doing anything that requires it. Kirkpatrick thought Campbell was right. The key to faith and fullness of life in Christ is to follow Peter’s example and be willing to step out of the comfort and security of the boat and head into the troubled waters of the world to proclaim the love, mercy, and justice of God that we find in Jesus Christ. Being a disciple is a risky and exciting business, but that is exactly what God calls us to do and to be, and God assures us that if we get out of the boat, we can count on the accompaniment of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.(2)
Who prompts Peter to get of the boat in the midst of the storm? Jesus. Jesus says, “Come.”
Where do we see Jesus in the midst of the storm?
We don’t see Jesus in the throes of our anxiety. Nor do we see Jesus by denying that we are anxious.
We don’t see Jesus in the dream that the next pastor will be the magic bullet for Waverly First Presbyterian Church, a super-pastor who will be all things to all people and who will bring in the masses (who will be just like us, of course).
We don’t see Jesus in desiring a new boat that is the exact replica of the one we have had.
We don’t see Jesus in focusing inward and thinking only of ourselves and our personal needs.
We don’t see Jesus in thinking that if we could only turn the clock back to 1980, 1974, 1963, to the good old days when nothing went wrong. Only those weren’t good days. 1980 – Iran hostage crisis; 1974 – President Nixon’s resignation; 1963 – President Kennedy’s assassination.
Where do we see Jesus in the midst of our roiling life together?
We see Jesus at prayer. The gospel doesn’t tell us what Jesus was praying for in the mountain retreat. It doesn’t need to. As Jae Won Lee pointed out, Jesus was praying for belief by those whom God had called to be his in the midst of cultural and institutional unbelief. The boat doesn’t matter. The lake doesn’t matter. Jesus matters.
The disciples screamed when they saw Jesus. Were they afraid of Jesus? Were they scared of Jesus? Were they ashamed of Jesus? Were they like children who were caught with their hands in the cookie jar? Did they suspect that Jesus knew that their belief was weak?
William H. Willimon, Duke Divinity School theologian and United Methodist Church bishop, may have put it best in a sermon entitled, “How Will You Know If It's Jesus?”:
If Peter had not ventured forth, had not obeyed the call to walk on the water, then Peter would never have had this great opportunity for recognition of Jesus and rescue by Jesus. I wonder if too many of us are merely splashing about in the safe shallows and therefore have too few opportunities to test and deepen our faith. The story today implies if you want to be close to Jesus, you have to venture forth out on the sea, you have to prove his promises through trusting his promises, through risk and venture.(3)Getting out of the boat with Jesus is the most risky, most exciting, and most fulfilling way to live life to the fullest. The storm you are dreading will be a wonderful opportunity to get out of the boat and into faith.
Pray before the storm.
(1) Jae Won Lee, "Matthew 14:22-33 – Exegetical Perspective," Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 333.
(2) Clifton Kirkpatrick, "Matthew 14:22-33 – Pastoral Perspective," Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 334, 336.
(3) William H. Willimon, "How Will You Know If It’s Jesus," August 7, 2005, http://day1.org/950_how_will_you_know_if_its_jesus.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Each and Every
Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21; Isaiah 55:1-5; Matthew 14:13-21
Everyone has a favorite psalm. I would guess that many church people are very familiar with about 10 to 15 percent of the psalms. Everyone knows Psalm 23. Other well-known ones may be Psalms 1, 19, 24, 27, 42, 51, 100, 119, 150. Devotionally I read through all 150 of them on a cycle of eight weeks. I am not sure that I could say that I have a favorite psalm. Each one hits me differently every time I read it, usually depending on what is going on in my life.
Years ago I was at a conference on personal spiritual disciplines. The leader was a Presbyterian pastor from Michigan named Fred Cunningham. Fred was a pioneer among Presbyterian pastors studying Reformed spirituality. He suggested that people ought to claim a particular psalm as their own psalm. His was Psalm 16. He learned it in the Revised Standard Version and the verse which resonated most for him was verse 6: “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage” (Psalm 16:6, rsv).
If I had to pick a personal psalm, I might go for Psalm 67. The verse which sticks out for me in it reads, “Let the people thank you, God! Let all the people thank you!” (Psalm 67:3 and 5, ceb). In the New Revised Standard Version, the word ‘thank’ is ‘praise.’ I think that I like praise better. Translators seem to be split on which word to use.
Psalm 145 is one of a number of acrostic psalms. In the original Hebrew, the psalm consists of 21 poetic couplets each of which begin with the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The first verse begins with aleph, the second with beth, and so forth until verse 21 which begins with the last letter, tav. If you read along in the Sanctuary Bibles, you would have noticed the Hebrew letters in the margin before each verse. Acrostic psalms were both a stylistic formula for writing and a means of remembering the psalm.
The whole of Psalm 145 is an prayer of praise for all that God has done, is doing, and will do. The gathered people of ancient Israel prayed this psalm by heart, possibly accompanied by musical instruments. The structure of the psalm enabled people to learn their faith. As the people prayed, so they believed. Some ancient manuscripts include a congregational refrain that could have been sung after each verse, “Blessed be YHWH, and blessed be his name forever!” The 1887 Psalter Hymnal of the United Presbyterian Church of North America had five different musical settings for portions of the psalm. Our Glory to God hymnal has three settings, one of which we will sing shortly.
This psalm is the only one of the 150 that has the superscript calling it a psalm of praise. James L. Mays calls Psalm 145 “the overture to the final movement of the Psalter,” because it sets the tone for the last five psalms of the Psalter, all of which begin with “Praise the Lord!”(1) (Hallelu-yah in Hebrew). The Talmud, an ancient rabbinic commentary on Hebrew Scripture, instructs worshipers to repeat this psalm three times every day. Faith was formed through praying praise.
Psalm 145 is well constructed. There is balance between extolling the greatness of God (“My mouth will proclaim the Lord’s praise”) and declaring the graciousness of God (“The Lord supports all who fall down”), God’s greatness and God’s graciousness are not polarities; they are not extremes of a pendulum swing. They are intertwined realities of who God is.
The psalmist declares that God’s greatness is unlimited and comprehensive. The result of that is that praise is equally unlimited and all-inclusive. We can see this in the number of times the words “every” or “all” or their equivalents are used. For example, in verse 9, God is “good to everyone,” and his compassion extends “to all his handiwork.” In verse 14, the Lord “supports all” and “straightens up all.” The next verse says that “all eyes” look to God. Verse 16 confesses that God satisfies the desire of “every living thing.” That is followed with a statement that God is “righteous in all his ways” and “faithful in all his deeds.” The emphasis is kept up as the psalm closes. Verses 18-21 affirm that the Lord is “close to everyone,” that God “protects all,” that “every wicked person” will be destroyed by God’s judgment, and finally that “every living thing will bless” God’s holy name.
Nicholas Wolterstorff specializes in Christian philosophy and theology. He asserts that the Christian faith has what he calls the “each and every principle.” This principle states that God is concerned with each and every living being. It is a vision of the faith that is both expansive (the every) and particular (the each). Psalm 145 clearly expresses in poetic form this “each and every principle.” God “is good to everyone,” says verse 9, expressing God’s providence in expansive form. God also “supports all who fall down, straightens all who are bent low,” in verse 14, expressing God’s particular attention to individuals who struggle, who fail, who mourn.
We need to keep these two aspects of God’s being, the expansive “every” and the particular “each” in close tension. Our Christian faith will be seriously constricted if God’s care for the individual or the particular is the only note sounded. Some expressions of our common faith in Christ are so focused on the salvation of the individual that the communal nature of gospel is lost. Some churches seem to peddle the gospel as a product to “meet your needs.” This theology gives way to this tendency.
Some churches preach a prosperity gospel that claims that God desires to make people wealthy. Yet verses in scripture that use the word ‘prosper’ point not to material wealth but to spiritual wealth, wholeness, and a close relationship with God. Psalm 145 holds together the dual affirmations of God’s expansive care for everyone and God’s particular care of each one.
Christian faith will be just as seriously constricted if the prevailing emphasis falls only in the communal aspect of the faith. There can be no doubt that God is the God of all creation, of all creatures, of all cosmic forces. If focusing only on the individual is like not seeing the forest for the trees, then focusing only on the communal aspect of God’s care is like seeing the forest and not seeing the particular trees that make up the forest. It is incredibly important to affirm God’s very particular care. When a believer is sick or lonely, frightened or spiritually diminished, the thrust of our faith is that God attends not only to the grand scheme of the universe, but also to all the ups and downs and the smallest details of an individual life.
Although Psalm 145 was likely used as a hymn in ancient Israel’s community worship, its words and phrases bring comfort to anyone who needs to hear that “the Lord is close to all who call out to him sincerely” (v. 18).
What Psalm 145 tells us is that God is the God of all things great and small. God can deal with those of us who are big sky dreamers, who see things from a 30,000 foot perspective, and God can deal with those of us who are into micro-managing the nano-dimensions of everyday living lest the slightest detail gets overlooked.
God supports and undergirds. God governs. God also is faithful in all that God does and shows favor to those who honor him. That is to say, God pays attention; God notices. God does not govern from afar with broad brush strokes of creative genius. God maintains a deep connection with creation by keeping track of all the details. God knows the details, cares about them, and includes them in all divine actions and intentions. Our God is not too small to deal with the every of creation. Nor is our God too big to deal with the each of creation. Our God is God of both the each and the every.
Thanks be to God!
General Resource: Leanne Van Dyk, “Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21: Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 296-300
(1) James L. Mays, Psalms, Interpretation series (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1994), 439.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Everyone has a favorite psalm. I would guess that many church people are very familiar with about 10 to 15 percent of the psalms. Everyone knows Psalm 23. Other well-known ones may be Psalms 1, 19, 24, 27, 42, 51, 100, 119, 150. Devotionally I read through all 150 of them on a cycle of eight weeks. I am not sure that I could say that I have a favorite psalm. Each one hits me differently every time I read it, usually depending on what is going on in my life.
Years ago I was at a conference on personal spiritual disciplines. The leader was a Presbyterian pastor from Michigan named Fred Cunningham. Fred was a pioneer among Presbyterian pastors studying Reformed spirituality. He suggested that people ought to claim a particular psalm as their own psalm. His was Psalm 16. He learned it in the Revised Standard Version and the verse which resonated most for him was verse 6: “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage” (Psalm 16:6, rsv).
If I had to pick a personal psalm, I might go for Psalm 67. The verse which sticks out for me in it reads, “Let the people thank you, God! Let all the people thank you!” (Psalm 67:3 and 5, ceb). In the New Revised Standard Version, the word ‘thank’ is ‘praise.’ I think that I like praise better. Translators seem to be split on which word to use.
Psalm 145 is one of a number of acrostic psalms. In the original Hebrew, the psalm consists of 21 poetic couplets each of which begin with the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The first verse begins with aleph, the second with beth, and so forth until verse 21 which begins with the last letter, tav. If you read along in the Sanctuary Bibles, you would have noticed the Hebrew letters in the margin before each verse. Acrostic psalms were both a stylistic formula for writing and a means of remembering the psalm.
The whole of Psalm 145 is an prayer of praise for all that God has done, is doing, and will do. The gathered people of ancient Israel prayed this psalm by heart, possibly accompanied by musical instruments. The structure of the psalm enabled people to learn their faith. As the people prayed, so they believed. Some ancient manuscripts include a congregational refrain that could have been sung after each verse, “Blessed be YHWH, and blessed be his name forever!” The 1887 Psalter Hymnal of the United Presbyterian Church of North America had five different musical settings for portions of the psalm. Our Glory to God hymnal has three settings, one of which we will sing shortly.
This psalm is the only one of the 150 that has the superscript calling it a psalm of praise. James L. Mays calls Psalm 145 “the overture to the final movement of the Psalter,” because it sets the tone for the last five psalms of the Psalter, all of which begin with “Praise the Lord!”(1) (Hallelu-yah in Hebrew). The Talmud, an ancient rabbinic commentary on Hebrew Scripture, instructs worshipers to repeat this psalm three times every day. Faith was formed through praying praise.
Psalm 145 is well constructed. There is balance between extolling the greatness of God (“My mouth will proclaim the Lord’s praise”) and declaring the graciousness of God (“The Lord supports all who fall down”), God’s greatness and God’s graciousness are not polarities; they are not extremes of a pendulum swing. They are intertwined realities of who God is.
The psalmist declares that God’s greatness is unlimited and comprehensive. The result of that is that praise is equally unlimited and all-inclusive. We can see this in the number of times the words “every” or “all” or their equivalents are used. For example, in verse 9, God is “good to everyone,” and his compassion extends “to all his handiwork.” In verse 14, the Lord “supports all” and “straightens up all.” The next verse says that “all eyes” look to God. Verse 16 confesses that God satisfies the desire of “every living thing.” That is followed with a statement that God is “righteous in all his ways” and “faithful in all his deeds.” The emphasis is kept up as the psalm closes. Verses 18-21 affirm that the Lord is “close to everyone,” that God “protects all,” that “every wicked person” will be destroyed by God’s judgment, and finally that “every living thing will bless” God’s holy name.
Nicholas Wolterstorff specializes in Christian philosophy and theology. He asserts that the Christian faith has what he calls the “each and every principle.” This principle states that God is concerned with each and every living being. It is a vision of the faith that is both expansive (the every) and particular (the each). Psalm 145 clearly expresses in poetic form this “each and every principle.” God “is good to everyone,” says verse 9, expressing God’s providence in expansive form. God also “supports all who fall down, straightens all who are bent low,” in verse 14, expressing God’s particular attention to individuals who struggle, who fail, who mourn.
We need to keep these two aspects of God’s being, the expansive “every” and the particular “each” in close tension. Our Christian faith will be seriously constricted if God’s care for the individual or the particular is the only note sounded. Some expressions of our common faith in Christ are so focused on the salvation of the individual that the communal nature of gospel is lost. Some churches seem to peddle the gospel as a product to “meet your needs.” This theology gives way to this tendency.
Some churches preach a prosperity gospel that claims that God desires to make people wealthy. Yet verses in scripture that use the word ‘prosper’ point not to material wealth but to spiritual wealth, wholeness, and a close relationship with God. Psalm 145 holds together the dual affirmations of God’s expansive care for everyone and God’s particular care of each one.
Christian faith will be just as seriously constricted if the prevailing emphasis falls only in the communal aspect of the faith. There can be no doubt that God is the God of all creation, of all creatures, of all cosmic forces. If focusing only on the individual is like not seeing the forest for the trees, then focusing only on the communal aspect of God’s care is like seeing the forest and not seeing the particular trees that make up the forest. It is incredibly important to affirm God’s very particular care. When a believer is sick or lonely, frightened or spiritually diminished, the thrust of our faith is that God attends not only to the grand scheme of the universe, but also to all the ups and downs and the smallest details of an individual life.
Although Psalm 145 was likely used as a hymn in ancient Israel’s community worship, its words and phrases bring comfort to anyone who needs to hear that “the Lord is close to all who call out to him sincerely” (v. 18).
What Psalm 145 tells us is that God is the God of all things great and small. God can deal with those of us who are big sky dreamers, who see things from a 30,000 foot perspective, and God can deal with those of us who are into micro-managing the nano-dimensions of everyday living lest the slightest detail gets overlooked.
God supports and undergirds. God governs. God also is faithful in all that God does and shows favor to those who honor him. That is to say, God pays attention; God notices. God does not govern from afar with broad brush strokes of creative genius. God maintains a deep connection with creation by keeping track of all the details. God knows the details, cares about them, and includes them in all divine actions and intentions. Our God is not too small to deal with the every of creation. Nor is our God too big to deal with the each of creation. Our God is God of both the each and the every.
Thanks be to God!
General Resource: Leanne Van Dyk, “Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21: Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), Year A, vol. 3, 296-300
(1) James L. Mays, Psalms, Interpretation series (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1994), 439.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
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