My Strength and My Song. Simon Peter Iredale
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However, let’s turn this on its head. Perhaps what we should concentrate on in the phrase “valley of the shadow of death” is the transitory nature of the created world. Sometimes things are all the more beautiful exactly because they are temporary. The blossom that appears briefly on a tree tells us what point we have reached in the spring or summer. It is all the more beautiful because we know that it will last, at its best, only a short time. Hence, perhaps we can imagine the psalmist’s valley as a very beautiful place indeed, the most perfect realization of God’s creation, but touched in every respect with inevitable change. Our part in this is to thank God for what surrounds us but not to stop, not to try to hang on to what is by its nature ephemeral, but to continue on in pilgrimage to the One who never changes.
It is Christ, after all, who is our Shepherd. Our task, as those in his care, is simply to follow. But how difficult that simple thing appears! We are the most wrong-headed sheep imaginable. We seem convinced that we know the way we need to go with only occasional reference to our Shepherd. It’s the problem of free will. God does not expect us simply to follow orders. We are valued far too much for that and have been given the supreme gifts of self-awareness and a moral sense. What is required is to make choices according to our redeemed nature; that is, to discern the purpose of God working in our lives and to set ourselves in harmony with Christ.
Let’s think of the curious image of the table (verse 5). This is not designed, surely, to make one relax, sitting down in the presence of one’s enemies to have a meal. Surely this is guaranteed to interfere with the digestion! We didn’t mention that even though the valley of the shadow of death might be very beautiful, there is still danger within in it. After all, the serpent lurked in the beauty of Eden’s garden. We are constantly surrounded by enemies, but not necessarily human ones. Christians, while on life’s pilgrimage, are never free from the offer of false choices, false directions, spiritual precipices, and dead ends. For me, the image of the table—God conferring honor on us as members of the divine household—is a demonstration of power and grace. It is the victory of the cross made plain in our own lives, to the rage and confusion of all who would wish to destroy us, whether human or spiritual foes. This is the significance of the anointing—sharing in the chrismation (or sacrament of anointing) of God’s Son, whose very name means “anointed one.”
There’s movement and stillness in this psalm. The movement is of pilgrimage, setting aside with thankfulness the temporary and pressing on toward the permanent. Especially it means not being tempted to wander off the path through the valley, blazed by Christ himself, to an unknown fate in the shadows. The stillness comes from the blessed realization that God has made us members of the divine household. We sit with Christ at the table where he takes the bread and pours the wine. So nothing really can hurt us in a permanent way as far as our eternal destiny is concerned. Certainly our enemies can make it pretty hot for us (especially if we let them), but that particular battle has been fought and won on the hill of Calvary. With this marvelous assurance in our pilgrim’s backpack, we can march on, knowing that we “shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”
For Reflection
To whom do you instinctively turn when troubles arise: to your own mind and powers or to Christ your Shepherd?
Prayer
Loving Shepherd, be patient with my wanderings and bring me joyfully into your heavenly fold. Amen.
Psalm 19
We find the very ancient idea in writers as diverse as the Chinese philosopher Confucius (551–479 B.C.) and the Greek Stoic philosophers of the third century B.C. that the universe presents to us a divine order and harmony. The human being, as part of that divine order, is like a little world in a larger world; but, because of our free will, the challenge of being human is to tackle the disorder and disharmony of our own beings and to attempt to tune in ourselves more and more to the harmony that surrounds us and is presented to us every day.
This is the idea expressed so beautifully in the opening verses of Psalm 19. To the eye of faith, the created world is brimming with the knowledge of God. This is done, however, silently (verse 3). What further eloquence is needed when one’s breath is taken away by the beauty of the natural world or the extraordinary complexity of living things?
Yet, in verse 4 we hear how the “voice” and the “words” of the divine creativity permeate everything. The image that the psalmist uses to convey this notion of the all-penetrating influence of the divine is that of the sun (verses 4b-6): “there is nothing hid from its heat” (verse 6). There is an important thing to understand about the Hebrew conception of God’s Word. It is not just something that we can read or hear; it is God present to creation in infinite power. Hence, it is quite appropriate that John speaks of Christ as the “Word” of God (John 1:1). In this context we are thinking of the creative powers of God extending through all creation, setting the planets in motion, causing the flower to open, the seed to burst.
But here’s the problem—or, perhaps more positively, the challenge. Human beings have free will, which God seems to cherish in us above all things. We are not trees, mountains, or flowers that perfectly fulfill God’s purpose for them simply by existing. We can choose to be disharmonious all our lives if we would like to, even if it means we cause distress to ourselves and to others wherever we go. Another, more theological, word for this disharmony is sin. Or, we can ceaselessly try to “live according to nature” as the Stoics said, becoming more and more, by daily repeated acts of free will, the people we were created to be.
Our psalm is very aware of the responsibilities facing each “little world” of the human being, but God has not left us helpless to try and work out such an awe-inspiring thing for ourselves. Verses 7-9, with their balanced ideas of God’s provision and our benefit, show us a way forward. Here we see how God’s laws and precepts revive and rejoice the heart and make “wise the simple.” What is also interesting is how we are to understand that the commandments of God enlighten the eyes (verse 8). Perception, spiritual perception that is, or discernment, is a very valuable gift to any Christian. What is being referred to here is having, in Christian terms, not only the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16) but also the “eyes” of Christ. Remember what Jesus teaches in Matthew 6:22-23: “The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is sound, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is not sound, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” The value of these “way markers” God gives to guide us through the wilderness of the world is incalculable (verse 10).
Typical of the psalmist, after setting out the wonders of God’s creation and God’s power and benevolence toward human beings, he is then painfully aware of the fragility of his own nature (verses 11-13). There is a great deal of psychological realism here. The psalmist is aware not only of the “presumptuous sins” that seek to have dominion over him but also of the secret and hidden faults of which he may only be dimly aware. Nevertheless, it is God who commands us, mercifully and gracefully, to approach, so we can take heart that even our least efforts will be repaid in God’s love a thousand times. The psalm ends with the picture of the redeemed human being. Now, it is the human “word” that is “acceptable” to God; heaven and earth are conjoined in harmony.
For Reflection
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