Wilderness Wanderings

Praise the Lord. Praise the name of the Lord; praise him, you servants of the Lord, you who minister in the house of the Lord, in the courts of the house of our God. Praise the Lord, for the Lord is good; sing praise to his name, for that is pleasant. For the Lord has chosen Jacob to be his own, Israel to be his treasured possession. I know that the Lord is great, that our Lord is greater than all gods. The Lord does whatever pleases him, in the heavens and on the earth, in the seas and all their depths. … Your name, Lord, endures forever, your renown, Lord, through all generations. For the Lord will vindicate his people and have compassion on his servants. (Psalm 135:1-6, 13-14)

On either side of the Psalms of Ascent, there are psalms of praise. Psalm 135 picks right up where psalm 118 left off before we traveled through the law in Psalm 119 and to the Temple for Festival in psalms 120-134. We left rejoicing, and we are to return rejoicing.

The theme that flows through Psalm 135 is how Israel is planted as God's specially chosen nation amidst all the other nations to become the embodiment, example, and message of the Lord's name and renown. Those other nations make their gods, but Israel's God has made all things, including his people. The Lord is the one, true, sovereign God: the only God who can save—as he demonstrated in the deliverance of his people from Egypt and his defeat of the kings of Canaan to settle his people in the promised land. For these acts, Israel has reason to continue to praise the Lord.

Of course, Israel continued to live among the nations even after these great acts of salvation were accomplished. In this muddled middle of history, things were not always so clean cut as they may have seemed in the past. And so a promise for the future also resides in this psalm. Verse 14 says: "the Lord will vindicate his people and have compassion on his servants." Continuing to believe in the Lord as the great God above all gods who is trustworthy to save and deliver remained a difficult and contested act—especially when it seemed like the nations and their gods had the upper hand or the better life.

We, in a very different and yet also very similar way, still live in an age of contested belief. We may follow Christ, but we are fully aware that many of our neighbours, coworkers, and online friends do not. Rather than being part of a nation geographically insulated by borders from these secular or spiritually or religiously other people in our lives, we rub shoulders, share roads, and exchange online comments with them almost daily.

How in this culture do we continue to be distinctly Christian, trustful of the work of our sovereign God, believers in the things we cannot see even when it seems like we're increasingly in the minority?

The psalm gives a single solution: to praise the Lord. The content of our praise is filled with memory. It reminds us of what God has done in the past. These are the things we praise him for. But the act of praise itself is an act of hope that envelopes, as Pastor Michael said yesterday, our whole body and lives. It gets our voice, or arms, our heart, our mind, our soul—all of it involved in responding to God, remembering God, being in grateful relationship with God.

As the Church in this culture we do not need walls, nor do we need policies. What the Church needs in order to be the Church and to witness to the world in this secular age of contested belief is deep-throated, full-bodied, believing, hoping praise of our God. Do we have a message of Good News or don't we? If we do, then let's praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord, all you servants of the Lord who minister by night in the house of the Lord. Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and praise the Lord! May the Lord bless you from Zion, he who is the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 134).

Once, when I took a two-week course at a retreat centre, our professor, the late Dallas Willard, began the course with two instructions: you will sleep 12 hours the first three nights and then 10 hours thereafter and you will go out into the wilderness and pray Psalms 145-150 at the top of your lungs with hands lifted high.

Wise counsel! As a culture, we deprive ourselves of sleep. We are too tired! Fatigue hinders our ability to drive well, and it hinders our ability to commune with God well. I think this is somewhat obvious, even if we need it pointed out on occasion.

Still, the instruction regarding Psalms 145-150 elicited almost as much resistance as the one regarding sleep. Here we were, 25 church leaders from around the world, and we were somewhat embarrassed to be caught praising God enthusiastically. Makes one wonder! I wonder if we are too limited in the ways in which we commune with God. Its mostly a mind exercise. Should we involve our bodies more? Should we consider how our bodily postures influence our communion with God? Can our bodies help our souls be more in tune with God?

At least in part, Psalm 134 invites us to consider these questions. Many of us, who were brought up in the protestant part of the Christian church, understand prayer to be "asking God for stuff". None of us would define prayer that way, but when we listen to our prayers, that is the bulk of it. Further, prayer is conducted by sitting or kneeling reverently trying to get our minds (and maybe our souls) to stay focussed on the task at hand. Rather limited, don't you think?

This is the last psalm of Ascents, those communal songs the Israelites sang during their pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the religious festivals. It appears that the final night of these festivals was spent, at least in part, in communal worship, with hands lifted.

This psalm has a long usage in the church as part of the day's final canonical hour, called compline. In the monastic tradition the day ends with a service of song, scripture, and personal meditation. Psalm 134 is part of that service.

In Protestant circles, there is a long tradition of ending the day with prayer. Many Christian parents teach their children to kneel at their beds for prayer before going to sleep. In this tradition, it is time for intercession, especially for forgiveness of sins committed during the day. This is good. But what about Psalm 134? Is it possible for us to end the day with praise? Is it possible to end the day with hands up lifted? How would it change our spirituality if each day is ended in praise? What if, after asking forgiveness, we got up and praised God for his grace? What if we went to sleep with the clean conscience grace gives?

Virtually all physical postures are fitting for prayer. Many are referred to in the Bible: kneeling (2 Chr. 6:13; Dan. 6:10; Acts 7:60), kneeling with face bowed to the ground (Is. 45:23; Phil. 2:10), full prostration, that is, laying flat on the floor (Rev. 4:10; 5:8). Sitting seems to be a prayer-posture particularly fitting for settings of contemplative quiet (Luke 8:35; 10:39). Many, too, have found walking to be a fine way of communing with the Lord (cf. Luke 24:13-17); nor should lying on (in) one's bed be excluded from among the acceptable postures of prayer (Psalms 4:4; 62:6).

The most favored in the Orthodox Church has been that of standing, which combines the features of dignity, attentiveness, readiness, obedience, and vigilance. Its helpful to vary the postures we adopt for praying depending on the occasion and need of our prayers. I suspect that our bodies are useful spiritual tools. Sometimes, the body can lead the soul.

Our psalm speaks of standing: a posture of both giving and receiving. The worshippers are encouraged to lift heir hands as an act of blessing God. But also, as a posture of receiving His blessing. Maybe it's the image of a little child reaching up to hold the hand of a parent. That simple gesture signifies gratitude for the security the parent offers while at the same time receiving it. A fine way to commune with our God.

How good and pleasant it is when God's people live together in unity! It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron's beard, down on the collar of his robe. It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore. (Psalm 133)

The Israelites didn't have separate denominations. They certainly had conservative factions and progressive factions within their ranks (think of the disagreements in the Sanhedrin between Pharisees, Sadducees, and others later on from the New Testament!), but given the fact that there was only one city of Jerusalem, they only had one place to go to celebrate a festival. The journey of ascents to the one, true God and to the one city of Jerusalem necessarily brought them all together as one, big, raucous family again. Despite their grudges, despite their disagreements, despite their opinions of one another's practice of the faith: there they were—worshiping, eating, and praying together as God's people.

Imagine that. All of God's people living together as sisters and brothers. The divided kingdoms of Judah and Israel living together as sisters and brothers. The faithful exiles living together with the Samaritan traitors as sisters and brothers. The Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians, and Zealots living together as sisters and brothers. In those rare moments when it happens: it is like the ordained, anointed blessing of God running over through the priesthood and down to all the people. It is as if the plentiful dew of a lushly green-forested mountain fell on the dry rocks of Mount Zion; as if the day of God's gift of abundant life and blessing has arrived at last where all the people will gather in peace and celebration for the feast of the Messiah.

Each festival celebration was a foretaste of much better things to come—the vision of what God was up to in calling Israel as his one, singular people. In Jesus and around the Lord's Supper table, we catch a similar vision of the power of God at work.

We confess and believe in the one Spirit-fired "holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, and the life everlasting." Which is to say that we believe that Christians from the URC and the CRC, the Canadian Reformed and the Free Reformed, those on all sides of present school and church conflicts—that all of them, in the end, are one. Not because we have managed to work it out on earth, so much as that it is the reality of God's heaven.

In current conversations on sexuality, much is made of a morality rooted in a Creation-order ethic. But I do wonder at times if we shouldn't find our starting point in the other end of history: in the New Creation where "they will neither marry nor be given in marriage" and where all God's people are gathered fully and finally together—progressives, conservatives, protestants, Catholics, and every one of the thousand-plus factions of "the Reformed faith"—all at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb. This place where we will finally and manifestly be what we actually already are in God's reckoning: reconciled together in Christ into one body, through the one Spirit, faith, and baptism through which the one Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.

May Psalm 133 inform our praying of the Lord's prayer that God's "will be done on earth as it is in heaven." And, until that day when our journey of ascents is complete inside the gates of the New Jerusalem, may this psalm inform our living, too.

Arise, Lord, and come to your resting place, you and the ark of your might…For the Lord has chosen Zion, he has desired it for his dwelling, saying, 'this is my resting place forever and ever; here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it' (Psalm 132:8, 13-14).

We are still among the psalms of ascent, the songs the Israelites sang as they came and went to Jerusalem for the festivals of their faith. This song resounds with two important elements of identity for the ancient Israelites: a dwelling place for God and the kingship of David. From David's time onward, these two aspects of Israelite life became deeply entwined, finding their fulfilment in Jesus Christ.

But before we go there, we need to recall that when David pledged to build God a temple, God was not very keen on the idea. "I like being able to move around, not being fixed in one place," God says, "and anyway this initiative of yours reverses the proper relationship between me and you. I'm the one who is going to build a house, a house for you" (in the sense of a household, a line of succession). "That building needs to come first" (a summary of 2 Samuel 7).

Sometimes psalms turn into a conversation in which God responds, and Psalm 132 is an example. In the second half God speaks, recalling his commitment to David; his promise that there would always be a descendant of David on the throne. From Zion (another word for Jerusalem), where David's throne sat, God will bless his people. The promise about David's successors presupposes that they will be faithful to God. Maybe God in his grace will be merciful when they are faithless, but they cannot assume that God will keep his side of the covenant when they fail in theirs. As so, exiled to Babylon they were.

But after their return, there was no throne in Jerusalem for a descendant of David to sit on. Yet the pilgrims sang this psalm to each other and to the Lord. Chanting it as they walked was a reminder that God was still among them, and better days were coming for his people. Singing it, they recalled God's promises.

It's a good song for us to sing as well, helping us express our own desire that God dwell among his people. If its true that the greatest commandment is to love God will all our hearts, souls, minds, and strength, then it is also true that we do not love him very well.

Christians have long understood that our capacity to love God does not arise from trying harder, but rather from experiencing his glory and love. The words of this psalm evoke in us a desire for God to show up among his people. Jesus said that God's true worshipers, worship in spirit and in truth (John 4:23,24). We need the presence of the Holy Spirit for that to happen.

David's sons and grandsons were covenant breakers. They forsook God. As such, they lost the throne. But what of God's promises? Looking back, we understand that this psalm finds its final fulfillment in Christ our Lord. He is at once the new Temple (John 2:19-21) and the very son of David who fulfills the promise God swore to David. Through Christ, David's descendant sitting on heaven's throne, God blesses his people, giving them of his Spirit, uniting us with Christ and with each other.

When we join the Israelites in singing, "May your priests be clothed with your righteousness; may your faithful people sing for joy" (9), we are not referring to Aaron's descendants working in the temple, but about ourselves. Peter understood this when he wrote, "you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light" (1 Peter 2:9). Who knows, maybe Peter had been mediating on this Psalm before he wrote his letter?

With this psalm, we give voice to our faith that God dwells among us, his holy people. God has found his resting place, and it is us. He has chosen us to be his dwelling place. He names us his royal priesthood, his holy nation. That is who we are, praise be too God. Let's sing it. Let's make it a love song to our God.

My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content. Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore. (Psalm 131)

Psalm 131 connects with the psalm that comes before it, psalm 130, which is a cry from the depths of suffering that eventually resolves to wait in hope for the Lord—"more than watchmen wait for the morning."

Psalm 131 carries that hard-won resolve to wait in hope for the Lord on into the rest of life. This picture of humility is childlike—but it's not the kind of humble trust that comes from a child. It's a mature, adult form of humility before God, and it often only comes after long years of experience that lead one to return to that place of childlike submission to God. It's a 2nd humility: a 2nd, much more experienced and determined form of childlike trust.

As Eugene Peterson tells it, there are two sides to that childlike trust that the Psalmist highlights. One is a check against uncontrolled pride and ambition, the other is a check against infantile dependency.

It is a check against uncontrolled pride and ambition because, we were not created to have it all. We were created to live within limits. Adam and Eve set their eyes on higher things of course, reaching for that which was not theirs to have. They over-reached: trying to become like God, instead of submitting to God. We do the same: trying to gain for ourselves the agency, the knowledge, the control, the resources, or the prestige of God, instead of submitting to God. Or, trying to save ourselves and give ourselves our own identity, rather than accepting and submitting ourselves to our God-given identity as sons and daughters of God, loved and redeemed by His work in Jesus Christ and not our own.

In a few short words, the Psalmist tears down our Forbidden Fruit aspirations. "My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me." Why? Because that's your job. Not mine.

But, contested Adam Smith and other capitalists like him down through the centuries—without pride and the arrogance and ambition that it drives, won't we all just be lazy mooches? Given to unhealthy dependency and sloth?

Well, no. Not in the Psalmist's perspective, and not in the perspective of the Christian tradition down through the ages either. Without the prideful overreach for forbidden fruit—far from being sloths—Adam and Eve would've gotten on just fine with good and plentiful work to do, food enough, and living in the true paradise, with God—heaven on earth. They would have been naked—stripped down quite literally to their truest human selves, and feeling no shame whatsoever in the presence of each other, or a Holy God.

There is a place between the sin of pride and the sin of sloth. And it is healthy, Christian humility. The place of childlike trust. Instead of reaching to take on God's work ourselves, the Psalmist says: I have calmed and quieted myself. I'm like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child, I am content.

That's the idea of the Psalm. Israel is to put their hope in the Lord because He is the one who provides all that is needful: salvation, identity, provision. All of these are given as good gifts of the Lord. Actually it is only he that can give these gifts—even our best attempts fall short, because we are not God. Only He is. So the psalm's invitation: put your hope in the Lord.

If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you… Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption (Psalm 130:3,4,7).

When we think of God's accounting ability, we ought to cringe. Suppose every unkind word we had ever spoken, every lie we had ever told, every shortcut we had ever taken, every word of gossip that ever passed our lips, every lustful thought we had entertained, every sin we ever committed were recorded on God's cell phone. What if God sent us the file and made us watch it? How would we react?

For many of us our first reaction would be to deny it all. Admitting guilt is rarely our first go too. It tends to be the avenue of last resort to keep out of trouble. When denial doesn't work, we move to rationalization. We blame the circumstances of life, other people, even our genes. "It's in my nature," we complain, "I just can't help it." And if that doesn't work, we compare ourselves to others. We tell God that everyone else is doing it, so why can't I! Or we mention casually that our sins are not nearly as grievous as our neighbour down the road.

It's a good thing that God is patient. He listens to all our excuses one by one. But in the end, we must discover that none of them are truly valid. If God was to lay out ours sins before us, we must echo this psalmist, "Who could stand?"

Despite our best efforts to be good, we are constantly engaged in a wrestling match between the old sin nature and the new person in Christ. Even the Apostle Paul complained, "I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do–this I keep on doing" (Romans 7:18-19).

There is a way out, however. It's a one-word answer: forgiveness. In His infinite mercy, God chooses to pardon the penitent sinner (Isaiah 55:6-7). We are saved by grace. The Old Testament poets and prophets already knew this. How much more, should we, who know Jesus Christ, know the infinite mercy of our God? If He was not merciful, we would all be destroyed by His judgement. Because we have been forgiven much, we are able to respond in grateful praise. We are moved to revere and respect Him, to worship and adore Him, to follow and obey Him!

If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you, says our text for today.

God's mercy includes more than just forgiveness. In His mercy, He also promises full redemption. We ought never to reduce God's redemption to anything smaller than the full restoration of the cosmos to its intended glory. In fact, the book of Revelation suggests when God's full redemption has come, it will be more glorious than the original creation.

If our psalmist was waiting eagerly for that day, how much more shouldn't we? In our waiting, we cry out to God to hasten that day. But we also wait patiently because we know His sovereign hand will not be forced by human entreaties unless the time is right. He hears our prayers and then acts according to His own perfect timing.

In ancient times, watchmen were posted atop the broad gates of Jerusalem to sound the alarm if signs of imminent danger were observed. If the watchmen could make it until the first rays of the rising sun, they could rejoice in their security for yet another night.

Waiting in darkness merely emphasized the glory of the sunrise! As we wait in the darkness of uncertainty and human inadequacy and our own inclination towards sinfulness, we rest in the faith that His sunrise is surely coming! It will be glorious.

"They have greatly oppressed me from my youth," let Israel say; "they have greatly oppressed me from my youth, but they have not gained the victory over me. Plowmen have plowed my back and made their furrows long. But the Lord is righteous; he has cut me free from the cords of the wicked." May all who hate Zion be turned back in shame. May they be like grass on the roof, which withers before it can grow; a reaper cannot fill his hands with it, nor one who gathers fill his arms. May those who pass by not say to them, "The blessing of the Lord be on you; we bless you in the name of the Lord." (Psalm 129)

The Bible reports that the Egyptians treated the Israelites ruthlessly: beating them, abusing them, running them ragged in forced labour until they cried out to the Lord. It's here, in Israel's youth that they experienced the plowmen that plowed long furrows—back and forth like the strips from a whip—along Israel's back. They were a nation raised in oppression, and they knew what it was to bear the brunt of insult, violence, and abuse as their humanity was ripped away furrow, by long furrow. Israel also knew, therefore, what it was to hunger for justice and righteousness, to live with fists clenched, teeth gritted, and anger smoldering under the surface—to live with a curse on their lips.

It's not what we would think to call a Christian sentiment, but until the day when the Lord comes, it certainly is an honest one. The Psalms are pretty honest about the hard stuff of life—and this is one of those things. Righteous or not, there were times when Israel actively longed for the downfall and disgrace of her enemies.

And yet, it's precisely these people—these honest, grumbling, wrestling people—that the Lord comes out in righteousness to save. Israel knew just what that meant too. It was the Lord that first blessed them and gave their ancestor Jacob the name "Israel"—"the one who wrestles with God." It was the Lord that acted out in righteousness to uphold their cause against the wicked oppression of the Egyptians, too, cutting them free from the cords of the wicked and ending the tyranny of the slave-driving plowmen.

After Egypt and throughout the Old Testament the Lord delivers Israel from the hand of their enemies again, and again, and again. The same basic truth rings out in a thousand places on Israel's lips in the Old Testament: "The Lord is Righteous, and he has cut me free."

Troubles and forms of oppression still face us today—in small ways and large. All sorts of untidy emotions bubble to the surface with it—fear, sadness, rage, and bitterness—any of which can leave us cursing or close to it. That's honest. It happened to the Israelites too. But lo and behold, it finds its place right here in the prayer book of God's people: the Psalms. Those ancient Israelites didn't bother to hide such untidy feeling from God. He sees it anyway, and so they simply brought it into the conversation with Him. Might as well be honest. How else can you be healed?

Because it is God who heals the long gouges of the furrows plowed into our hearts. It is God who cuts us free from the cords of oppression. Through another dramatic action of God—not the Red Sea, but the waters of baptism—we too have come to know salvation. The death and resurrection of Christ has broken the oppressive cords to sin and its effects so that we might become His righteousness—his saved people: a people that belong to God.

It's a basic truth of the Christian faith that rings true in a thousand places: Salvation and preservation belong to the Lord. It was the Lord who made us into His people through the work of Christ, and it is the Lord who will sustain us as His people in the strength of Christ, no matter the oppression we face along the way.

As we journey on together, no matter how easy or hard the road we face, it's important that we continue to remind and encourage one another of who we are because of who God is, as the Israelites did each year on their journey when they sang: "Let Israel say: they have greatly oppressed me from my youth—but the Lord is righteous, he has cut me free."

A Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is 1 Samuel 9:1-10:16 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN

1. What is the tension that keeps re-appearing Saul's story?
2. What two stories are interwoven in today's scripture reading? Why is the story of Saul's anointing told this way?
3. What Israelite memory is evoked in this story? Why is this important?
4. How does this story of Saul's anointing weave its way through history into our lives?
5. How has the Spirit been changing your character? How have you been resisting that change or walking in step with the Spirit?
6. How do you, as a Christian, express your submission to the Word of God?

Blessed are all who fear the Lord, who walk in obedience to him. You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table. Yes, this will be the blessing for the man who fears the Lord (Psalm 128:1-4).

This psalm has created anxiety for many saints. It has been thrust at me accompanied with haunting questions such as, "What did I do to cause my children to turn their backs on me?" or "Why won't God bless me?" And well, since I'm the pastor, I'm supposed to know the answer.

Rarely, did I think there was an obvious answer. It is beyond my ability to solve family issues, but it is my task to respond to people's spiritual questions. Not so much with answers, but to help them wrestle well with God, to set them on a better road.

On the surface, Psalm 128 reads as if all who obey the Lord will be blessed with wholesome family life and a full table. But that is not really the point. Obedience is paired with fear: a sense of awe and reverence before His majesty; to live believing that He is the sovereign King and our covenant God who holds us in His hands. Fearing God includes trusting him when adversity strikes. Also, trusting that his ways are right.

But we need to know what we are reading. Recently, I have mentioned that, to read the Bible well, we need to use our imaginations and to read passages in context. This psalm suggests something more. We need to know the kind of literature we are reading. Let me explain. We read poetry different than we read prose. We read a historical novel differently than we read a history textbook.

Psalm 128 was classified by the Jewish people as wisdom literature. Thus, it is like the book of Proverbs. A proverb, even today, is not understood to be a rule or a promise; rather, it is something that is often true. They are patterns that have been observed by people. The Bible will not allow us to conclude that life is sweet sailing for all who fear and obey God. Check out Psalm 73 as an example.

Now back to the pastoral questions. Saints must realize that family troubles do not mean that God is against them or that they have necessarily committed some great sin for which God is punishing them. But realizing this does not remove or fix their troubled families.

A helpful context for this song is Genesis 3 and 4 where the Bible illustrates that the consequence of the fall into sin is both difficulty in securing food and dysfunction in family relationships. Work, marriage, sexuality, and family are all corrupted by sin.

How do we overcome these difficulties? The first answer is always, "we cannot." There is nothing we can do to undo the curse of sin. The cure is not our obedience but the blessing of God. This psalm highlights sufficient food and family health as blessings of God for human flourishing. Whenever and wherever we see them, we see God's redemptive activity.

Living in the blessing of God calls forth from us faithful living, not pride. Those who fear the Lord often experience not just the spiritual blessings of redemption but the physical ones as well. Those who fear the Lord will not see these blessings as a reward for their hard work but as a gift from God.

God's covenant with Israel restored His reign over her and with that comes the renewal of creation. But throughout the Old Testament, it is never enough. Sin always interferes. There is always need for something more. The ultimate divine blessing comes in and through Jesus Christ and His ministry of redemption and reconciliation. Only in him is the curse of sin undone.

In the New Covenant in Christ, we also find creation restored. We see it in the miracles of Jesus. But God's kingdom and reign have not yet fully come. This psalm is waiting for a full and complete fulfillment, which will only happen when Jesus returns. So, as we experience the continued brokenness of food insecurity and breakdown in family relations, we are propelled to pray for God's blessings and for Christ's return. The fear of God and this psalm bring us to our knees, they fill us with longing for the fullness of redemption. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

It's useless for you to work from early morning until late at night just to get food to eat. God provides for those he loves even while they sleep. Children are a gift from the Lord. They are a reward from him (Psalm 127:2-3).

Reading the Bible well involves our imagination. It also requires understanding the whole story and its context. Too often Christians take material from the Old Testament story of Israel and apply it directly to individual Christian living. For example, this psalm has been used as an anti-birth control text or that the more children you have the more blessed you are. Such assertions fail to understand this psalm within the story of Israel.

This song was sung by the Israelites as they journeyed from their homes to worship at the temple. This could take days or weeks depending on where you lived. The psalm is about building a home and city that will endure. As today, that was no easy task. It took labour, sweat, labourers, time, money, etc., etc.

Yet, here is the home builder, the city planner, taking a month off from this work for religious festivals. Foolish, don't you think? Psalm 127 says, "Not at all." This is a covenant song, addressing Israelite life in the promised land. The people needed to build, to sweat, to determine how to construct houses and city walls that would endure. But...

The BUT is very important. In Israel, the success and endurance of any building project is not directly tied to the sweat or skill of the builders BUT upon the blessing of God Almighty, the covenant Lord of Israel. This regular hiatus for worship was an act of faith. Those who believed in this BUT took time for it.

The words about children do not mean that we should have as many children as possible, rather, it was a statement of life in the promised land. The transition from one generation to another was not dependent on Israel's abilities or hard work but on the blessings of God. Children were a sign that God was enabling Israel to continue living in the promised land as his covenant people.

This psalm was a profession of faith sung to remember the most basic reality of Israel's life: her life was in God's hand. Without God, Israel was just another nation struggling to survive in a hostile world.

Here is where we can apply this psalm to our lives. Our work and life are in vain without the blessing and presence of God. The ability to earn a living and find relief from one's labours -- refreshing sleep -- comes from the hands of a loving Father. To build a house is no guarantee that we can live in it. Trying to do things without God is like trying to sail a sailboat by blowing into the sail.

This is a psalm for the hard-working, hard-driving person ... the kind of person who builds things, who runs things, who makes things happen. Who, when seeing that things aren't moving, the problem isn't getting solved, starts work earlier or works later or works harder to make things happen.

As a result, we unbalance our lives. The stress causes us to fall into neglecting our family, neglecting our sleep, neglecting our time with the Lord, and neglecting our Sabbaths. We work, work, work, but we become like corpses.

The Psalm does not encourage laziness. Rather, that we understand our income earning labour as an act of worship. The bottom line is not our primary motivator, but loving obedience. Our income is sometimes more than we deserve. Sometimes it is less than we hoped for. God's desire is that we see Him working in our daily labours, that we avoid depending on our own effort to succeed.

Yesterday was Wednesday, hump day. A word suggesting that our income earning labour is done primarily to enjoy the weekend. But what if we saw this labour as an opportunity to serve the Lord? What if we saw our work as our worship? A gift to God? That is what our Psalm is aiming at.

Today, ask God to show you how you can worship him in your labour. Ask him to show you how to serve your fellow labourers.