We have 13 days till our grand move, and I thought I would spend them in the Psalms with you. Yesterday I spent some time through the magic of e-mails with the editor (?) of the Coushatta Citizen talking about that other life I used to have as a journalist and talking about the column I will be writing for that little paper.
It caused me to think (don't I always need a think-starter) about what I do and why I do it. Which almost always leads me back to the Psalms like a lost waif in search of home.
From the CEB, Psalm 68: "But let the righteous be glad and celebrate before God. Let them rejoice with gladness! Sing to God! Sing praises to his name! Exalt the one who rides the clouds! The Lord is his name. Celebrate before him! Father of orphans and defender of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the lonely in their homes..."
The sun is a brilliant glow this morning.
I got up before 6, thanking Him for the breath I had as I rose and for the opportunities that lie ahead today. I have a next-to-the-last Bible study at 10:30. Fittingly enough we will do the crucifixion and the resurrection today.
I am mostly pain free, or as pain free as I get.
Tomorrow I have my final back treatment with the doctor who has mended me for six plus year.
Tonight is perhaps Gabe's final baseball game of his 11-year-old season.
And we're closer to our new home.
I exalt the one who rides the clouds. Isn't that a spectacular description of our God? The Lord is his name. Father of me, an orphan, and defender of widows. God will settle us in our new home.
The psalmist continues, "My Lord gives the command -- many messengers are bringing good news: ... Even if you lie down among the sheepfolds, there are wings of a dove covered with silver; its pinions covered with precious God."
In other words, this morning you should have the biggest ol' honkin' party you could ever imagine. Just get wild and crazy you're so happy. Dance a jig or two, whatever a jig might be in your world. Sing out to Him. Do some Chris Tomlin (I suggest Love Ran Red) or some Third Day (God of Wonders might work) or some Brandon Heath (I'm not who I was) and without question or doubt some Rich Mullins (Awesome God, Sing Your Praise To the Lord). If traditional is your cup, sing some John Newton (little ol' song called Amazing Grace), some Fannie Crosby (Blessed Assurance) or darn near anything by Charles Wesley.
Just celebrate life, given to you by a God who loves you. The Psalmist describes worship this way: "First came the singers, then the musicians; between them the young women were playing hand drums. 'Bless God in the great congregation; bless the Lord from Israel's fountain."
Here's the cure for the mundane and the down trodden, folks (though I do not talk to the clinically medically depressed at this moment): Praise Him. Celebrate Him. (Big ol' Bible term here) Exalt Him. THANK HIM.
If you think you've gotten a rotten deal out of life, praise some.
If you think you're being royally, er, messed over, praise some.
If you think hope has taken the last train out of town, praise some more.
Some good ol' exalting will leave you with a taste of honey in your mouth.
The Psalmist finishes: "You are awesome, God, in your sanctuaries -- the God of Israel who gives strength and power to his people!
I could not possibly say it better than that so I won't try. You are awesome, God, in OUR sanctuaries, in New Orleans, Lafayette, Baton Rouge, Shreveport and most assuredly in Coushatta.
Amen, and amen again.
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