Read: Psalm 102

I am like an owl of the wilderness, like a little owl of the waste places. I lie awake; I am like a lonely bird on the housetop.
–Psalm 102:6

In the prayerbook version of this psalm, the first owl is like a vulture, circling above. My Hebrew is too poor to know whether the bird in question is an owl or a vulture, but I know both circle overhead looking for food. The vulture looks for the carcass, while the owl looks for the snake or the rodent. Then there is the swallow, sitting on the rooftop watching for the squiggle of the worm beneath. All hunger. Each needs nourishment. Each must be vigilant. Closing their eyes, they will see nothing. Seeing nothing, they would die.

When I wrote my book, Who the Blazes is Jesus, I couldn’t help but see Jesus (in the Gospel of Mark) as One who always kept his eyes open, but not with a desire to devour what he saw, but to see God at work in the world around him. When Jesus hung upon the cross, I wonder if this passage came to mind. As the people around him circled, and mocked him, and spit upon him, I wonder if he saw them as vultures and owls. As others mourned his death, I wonder if he remembered what he had said about “not one sparrow falling from the sky but that God knows about it.”

It has been a long time since I have felt like smoke blowing away on a gentle breeze. Maybe it is a scary image. Maybe it is a sad and lonely image or feeling. But I trust God’s promise that God will gather us all up at the end. Our lives may decline and dissipate in the manner of all that is organic and corrupt, but I know our Redeemer lives, even when it hurts. That’s all I need, even when the worm turns; the swallow will carry us up to high places in the end.

God, sometimes I am not all here. Sometimes, like smoke, I find myself carried aloft or carried away. And yet, you bring me back. You circle, you see, you find, you grasp, and you save, even when it hurts and especially when it hurts. And you make it better. Thank you. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg

Read: Psalm 17

Guard me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.
-Psalm 17:8

Every time I read the Psalms, I feel deep empathy. As a child, I was taught that David was the author, so perhaps that’s why I felt especially drawn to them initially. We know, of course, that writers also included Moses, Solomon, etc., but there’s still an almost mystical familiarity for me. Even now as I near 60 years of age my most common intentional readings of scripture find me in Proverbs, Song of Solomon, the Gospels—and always, the Psalms. I have come to see it as my persistent confirmation of a call to music.

Why empathy? I believe it’s because the Psalms frequently remind us of the emotional states of being human: fear, loneliness, vulnerability, hopelessness—brought about by that nagging worry that, underneath it all, we don’t really deserve love. As is so common, Psalm 17 finds the writer praying for deliverance from persecutors. Again. It’s a recurring lament throughout the entire book. It’s a recurring lament of the human condition!

But there are also glorious mountaintop moments in the Psalms: triumphant songs of confidence, thanksgiving for victory, gratitude for recovery from serious illness, the joy of forgiveness—even an ode for a royal wedding—and of course, the beloved story of the Divine Shepherd’s love and care for us.

I chose to highlight verse 8 because I’m new to Washington State. Sure, I’ve eaten Washington apples my entire life, but I see new meaning here now. We’re not just an apple of God’s eye, but the apple—the fullest, shiniest, reddest, most sweet, juicy, and delicious. We’re Honeycrisps! We’re Cosmic Crisps! Or giant, delightful Jazz apples! And as God’s favorite, each of us, we may feel secure—and loved completely, perfectly, unconditionally—in that protective shelter right next to God’s very own heart. Maybe that’s really why I return over and over to the Psalms.

In verse 15, the psalmist declares hope in the morning: that he will behold God’s face in righteousness, satisfied to behold God’s likeness. That likeness in which we are all created. So even at our worst moments, in the fear, loneliness, vulnerability, and hopelessness of life’s lowest places, we can look in the mirror and find comfort.

Oh, God, hold before us your divine countenance; may it always be our aspiration. Amen.
-David Sloat 

Read: Psalm 64

Hear me, my God, as I voice my complaint; protect my life from the threat of the enemy.
-Psalm 64:1

After reading several different versions of Psalm 64, one word, “bullying”, kept popping up in my brain. Years ago when my son Bayard was in elementary school, he came home with two black eyes. After questioning him, Dennis and I found out that he had been walking down the bus aisle and someone stuck out a leg and tripped him and he lost his balance and fell. This was not the first time he had been harassed and it would happen to him in high school. My husband called the school and was told that they would talk to the bus driver and the driver “saw nothing”.

Bayard’s friend Nathan attended the same school and was harassed numerous times during recess by a group of girls. In frustration, he lashed out at them and was suspended for three days.

Now, we have Republic Act 10627 (or the Anti-Bullying Act) in place which protects children in schools from being bullied. Schools are now required to adopt policies to keep children from being bullied.

We have had people accused of bullying in our government, protestors in the U.S. Capitol, Canada’s Governor General resigning as a result of bullying allegations, Boy Scouts, cyber, sexual, physical, and verbal attacks.

So, where is the good news? In addition to Republic Act 10627, we have the ability to vote out or impeach elected officials, the option to put safeguards on our computers, ways to report unwanted or violent sexual and physical abuse or attacks to the police, peaceful (hopefully) protests and we have Psalm 64.

The Message tells us “Everyone sees it. God’s work is the talk of the town. Be glad, good people! Fly to God! Good-hearted people, make praise your habit” (v. 9-10)

Lord God of mercy, grant to us to be preserved from all our enemies and saved in thy Son with an everlasting salvation. Amen.
-Mary Ann Taylor

Read: Psalm 143

So my spirit grows faint within me; my heart within me is dismayed.
-Psalm 143:4

Throughout the long sweep of human history I am constantly reminded that while we have become more successful in combating pestilence (who knows how many people would have died from the novel virus that lurks among us today if it had occurred in the Middle Ages), we have been far less successful in vaccinating our souls in the face of virulent ideologies that have spread rapidly through digital transmission. Small wonder that, as the psalmist intones, “I spread out my hands to you (and) I thirst for you like a parched land. Fortunately, the psalm holds the promise of the cure as well as the explanation of the illness: “Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground.”

Lord, in the words of the psalm, “let the morning bring me word of your unfailnig love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.” Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: Psalm 56

In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I am not afraid; what can flesh do to me?
-Psalm 56:4

The notes on this psalm say that David composed or sang this when the Philistines seized him at Gath. According to the account in 1 Samuel 21:10-15, David was acting like a mad man, presumably trying to keep from staying in their custody. Apparently, it worked because Achish, the king of the Philistines, did not want David in his presence.

The psalm itself is fairly upbeat for a “psalm of lament”. He does express concern about “people trampl[ing] on him” (v.2), “seek[ing] to injure [his] cause” (v.5), and “stir[ring] up strife” (v.6), but the majority of it is recalling God’s strength and protection. What confidence he has!

Does this mean that all of us are remiss for not having the same level of confidence as David? Not at all. We are going to go through times when we don’t have a clear path forward. I think the trick, however, is to remember that God *IS* and *WILL BE* present through it, even if we are saying those words with shaky voices and trembling hearts.

Be present with us in the midst of trial, Lord. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: Psalm 130

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits for him, in his word is my hope. My soul waits for the LORD, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.
-Psalm 130:5-6

I may wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, but it’s never my first choice. As an adult convert to Christianity, early on I looked for, hoped for, presumed to expect, that God would answer my prayers right speedily or at least “in due time.” “In due time” meant, of course, before my limited patience gave out.

It’s a common enough outcome for people with experience in the faith: “Be careful when you ask for patience because God will then give you plenty of opportunities to practice it.” Yes, I’ve made that tactical error, and God met me there.

So, what I want to know now is, whose big idea was it to ask for patience in dealing with all the ordinary routines of life? Because I lay at your feet this pandemic, the splintered political situation, the drastic curtailing of moving about, the complications involved in communicating and gathering together, and so much more.

What a wonderful chance to practice patience!

My soul waits for the LORD, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning…

Lord, we need your gift of patience and your strength to meet the challenges of every day. Thank you that you are walking our roads with us. Amen.
-Tom Worrell