Read: Psalm 5

But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you.
-Psalm 5:11

Years ago, a manager to whom I reported in my Silicon Valley job told me something that seemed odd at the time. “Your problem is that you don’t have any enemies,” he said. While I’ll certainly cop to the charge that my insecurities have tended to make me a “people pleaser,” I also have to confess that never in my life have I held the conviction that anyone ever woke up in the morning with the sole intent of making my life miserable. As a consequence, I have a difficult time relating to the psalmist’s frequent diatribes against their perceived foes. Still, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they ain’t out to get you — I’ve just never believed that anyone who thought ill of me was a greater risk to my spiritual well-being than my own desire for retribution.

Lord, in knowing that “you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness,” and that “the arrogant cannot stand in your presence,” help me be ever mindful of the enemy that lurks within, and that my best protection remains, as the psalmist sings, “the shield of your righteousness.” Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: Psalm 137

For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
-Psalm 137:3

As I read the first part of this psalm, I was reminded of an episode of the NPR show “On Being with Krista Tippett” where she was interviewing Joe Carter, who spent years educating people worldwide about the meaning of African-American spirituals:

And sometimes I imagine how some of those songs were used and I imagine someone on the plantation, the master, who is always very happy when he hears the slaves singing because he knows where they are, he knows they’re not escaping, as long as he can hear them. An old master comes out one day. He says, “Hey, Joe. Big Joe. I don’t hear nobody singing down there. You guys strike me up one of them good, old spiritual songs. You know how I like them. Give me one of them good, old songs.” And often when I go to the schoolchildren, I have them sing with me. I say, “OK. Now pretend you’re going to be — you’re all slaves, OK? And master wants us to sing a song, but we don’t really want to sing for master, do we?” “No. No, we don’t.” I say, “Well, I’ll tell you something. Master loves our singing, but he doesn’t listen to the words we say. He doesn’t have a clue. So we can say anything we want. So, let’s give the master a good old song.” (Joe Carter, “The Spirituals”, May 9, 2003)

There is a very strong parallel between slaves in the antebellum South and the Israelites. Both were taken from their native lands to a foreign one, both were forced to work in inhumane conditions, and both were mocked and told to be cheerful even when they were living a miserable life. Is it any wonder that the slaves created spirituals out of Old Testament stories?

This is an “imprecatory” psalm, meaning that it calls out God to judge the psalmist’s enemies, which is why it ends with the words “O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!” (vv. 8-9) One could say that this anger is overkill, but we have to remember that it comes from a place of great pain. The anger that got BLM started is similar. It moves people to act, and if tempered, it is useful. God works in our anger, and sometimes the pain behind that anger is how God gets our attention.

Lord, be present with us in our hardships and give us your aid in tempering our anger at injustice that we might use it for better things. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: Psalm 52

I will thank you forever, because of what you have done. In the presence of the faithful I will proclaim your name, for it is good.
-Psalm 52:9

This psalm is a recounting and commentary by David, the psalmist, of the terrible events recorded in 1 Samuel 21 and 22. As he runs for his life from Saul, David seeks refuge from the priests at the tabernacle of God in the city of Nob. Doeg the Edomite informs Saul that David has been provided assistance by the priests. An angry Saul sends for the priests and Doeg kills 85 priests, and women, children, and animals in the city of Nob. The psalmist, David, condemns this massacre and prophesies what will happen to Doeg. In verse 9, David praises God for what God has not yet done. David trusts that God’s love will outlast Doeg’s evil.

Similar evil deeds exist in our world. There are those who “love evil more than good, and lying more than speaking the truth,” and who “trust in abundant riches, and seek refuge in wealth!” The Psalm calls us to “trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.” We are called to trust and we can only do it with God’s help.

Dear God, help us to have the faith and trust that we need to know that your love transcends evil. Guide us and direct us. Amen!
-Cathey Frederick

Read: Psalm 39

Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.
–Psalm 39:4

The Psalmist is in pain. He is sick and trying to keep the information from his enemies. I understand the pain, but I’m not sure I would ask God to give me my expiration date. I think it is enough to live each day to the fullest and, frankly, who cares what my enemies think? Our days are numbered. None of us is getting out of here alive. A burial office of one sort or another will be prayed over each of us.

What I fear is reaching the end and never having lived in the first place. Perhaps the psalmist isn’t asking for a peek at his sell-by date, but to be reminded that he is mortal, and for the courage to live life to its fullest. Not in that “eat, drink, and be merry” sort of worldly stupidity, but in a “how may I experience and express the love of God to the best of my ability day by day?” sort of way.

When I hurt, I am prone to snap and snarl like a wounded dog. Healing comes in time and with time. Perhaps the psalmist is asking if he or she has time to heal. I hope so. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it certainly can help, especially when we place ourselves in the hands of the One who holds the Hourglass, even when it hurts.

Lord, my days are numbered. Help me rise each day knowing you are there. Guide and direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose. Let me lie down in appreciation for the day ended, and in hope for the morrow. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg