Psalm 40 - June 2011

Psalm 40For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.
I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.

A dear friend asked me the other day how I was feeling. Now, most of my close friends know when they ask this particular question at this time in my life, it has the potential for a theological dissertation. The usual topic of choice: the purpose of affliction brought on by one’s own sinful nature. AKA~ Don’t ask unless you are ready to take a ticket on the emotional rollercoaster of a convicted sinner.

Well, s/he did ask…

My response was a metaphor, which corresponds to my recent thought patterns. My whole English major background has trained me to connect any and every situation to a concrete example. I’m a “live and learn kinda’ girl”, which is not always the most direct route but it does provide me with the capability to make an abundance of metaphors come to life.

My response to my dear friend is one that has taken shape through the means of various sermons, conversations, and stories. Often, I preface my painfully long answers with this statement, “You really want to hear how I feel?” It gives my poor friend (or should I say victim?), a chance to say something such as “I totally forgot, but I do in fact have to wash my hair, but is a rain check possible?” However, my sweet, patient friend insisted that I continue.

I began with one of my metaphors, “Have you ever seen Deadliest Catch? You know the documentary/reality TV show that portrays events during the Alaskan king crab fishing season? The show that mirrors its title based on the hazardously high possibility of injury or death associated with the work? Honestly? I feel as if I’m in the middle of the latest episode. It is the middle of the night, pitch black, and I am stuck in the center of a fierce Bering Sea storm. I am blindly clinging to whatever hard, stable object I can grasp. My body is bracing for the next onslaught of icy waves that will certainly, drench my body and send me slamming, reeling, and grasping for the next solid object in the scope of my exhausted grip. I am attempting to avoid being pitched into the churning, chilling waters.

The craziest part about the situation is that I’m the one that steered the boat into this storm. I’m the one that disregarded the Captain’s orders, the weather watches and warnings. I’m the one who blindly and arrogantly assumed there may be danger ahead! I’m the one that failed to protect her crewmates who were pitched into the darkness of the night. Yet, I continued to direct the ship towards the dark, looming clouds. Now, I’m alone in the fiercest storm of my life. However, I suddenly realize that I am really not alone. My omniscient Captain has awakened to the sound of my cries for help. He has taken back the wheel that I foolishly thought I could handle. Still, even though I know His capable hand rests on the wheel, the gale force winds and waves continue to lash around me. As the storm’s winds throw me about, I realize they are consequences of my stubborn pride. My weakness, failure, and foolishness have left me vulnerably clutching to the deck amidst the crashing roar of consequence.

Still, my Captain does not fail me. Even though I doubted him, even though I rebelliously chose to steer his ship towards destruction, He stands like a strong tower. I merely had to whimper for his help and He came to rescue. His strength and wisdom are navigating me through the darkest throes of the night. Though my body is bruised and battered from my foolish decisions, he instills courage throughout my being. Calmly, he is driving out my fears in the midst of my self-inflicted chaos. He tells me that this is His purpose: to save me from myself, to drive out the disillusionment within, and to set my feet back on solid ground. Although the storm rages on, the grace of His presence overwhelms me, and His voice assures me that He will save me. He does not promise to take me back to where I began. He does not promise to bring back my crewmates. He does not promise that I will not feel the searing pain of broken limbs, dreams, and desires. But, He does promise to set my feet on solid ground, to create in me something drastically new, and to steer me towards the rising sun of the shore."

How beautiful to find that our captain, our God, is in the business of saving us from self-inflicted storms? How merciful, how gracious, how mighty is He!? Clinging to our Lord amidst the afflictions of our life, whether self-inflicted or not, is our calling. At times, we are the misguided fisherwoman and at other times we are the wounded crewmates. No matter the storm, our Captain desires that we look to Him in this fallen world. When we are weary, broken, afraid, hurt, lonely…He is the only one who will give us the sense that this world is not our hope. Our hope does not lie in situations, occupations, people, or possessions. Our hope lies in a God who will and does abundantly more than we can ask or think.