Read: Psalm 129

Let them be like the grass on the housetops that withers before it grows up, with which reapers do not fill their hands or binders of sheaves their arms, while those who pass by do not say, “The blessing of the Lord be upon you! We bless you in the name of the Lord!”
-Psalm 129:6-8

I am intrigued by verses 6-8.

Grass on housetops? Were the Judeans the earliest proponents of green roofing? Yeah, no. Roofs were made of beams and branches covered in mud and plaster over reed mats. There was frequently grass seed embedded in the mud, so the seeds would sprout during the rainy season and grass would quite literally start growing on rooftops. However, the mud wasn’t that thick so there was no way for the grass to put down decent roots to grow, making it wither and die. That withered grass was of no use or interest to reapers because it was no good for hay. Thus, the psalmist is saying that they hope their enemies become useless, which is something that I think everyone would hope for those who oppose them.

Lord, help us to sort out the people who are “like rooftop grass” in our lives and show us the people who will be useful to us as we grow in your love and grace. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: Psalm 28

Do not drag me away with the wicked, with those who are workers of evil, who speak peace with their neighbors while mischief is in their hearts.
-Psalm 28:3

I feel bad for the psalmist. So many of his laments would indicate he’s had a rough go of it. It seems he has plenty of enemies – more than enough to go around. The psalm contains three stages: “don’t forget me”; “give my enemies what they deserve”; and “thank you (for my deliverance)”.

I don’t know that I have ever felt abandoned by God. I’ve certainly had rough times, and there have been times I’ve decided God doesn’t exist – couldn’t exist. But those are my realities; they aren’t the ultimate reality. If there is a God like the one we proclaim, then I know that God never leaves or abandons those God loves (and God loves everyone). I believe that if God were to forget me, I would simply vanish without a trace. Since I haven’t, I have confidence God hasn’t forgotten me. That’s good news (for me, at any rate).

While I have been mightily vexed by enemies real and imagined, I have never actually prayed for their demise. I always think of prayer like a boomerang. What one sends forth comes back, and I don’t want my prayers coming back with a vengeance. So, I pray for God to soften my heart, bless me so that I may be a blessing to others, and so on. I have found that to be much more uplifting, even when I hurt.

God, you taught us to pray “deliver us from evil.” I presume that was for a reason. It is so easy to want burning coals to be heaped upon the heads of those who torment us; but to be completely honest, I don’t like how I feel when that happens. I find that sort of giddy delight soils my soul; I’d prefer you to purify me and my thoughts. Deliver me from evil. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg

Read: Psalm 43

Why are you cast down, O my soul?
–Psalm 43:5a

In Psalm 43 the psalmist laments not only his distress at the hands of the wicked but his estrangement from God. His hope lies in the steadfastness of God.

Sometimes I wonder, is God not listening? Why doesn’t God do something to help? The strength that once got me through pain and grief has drained away. My days are ruled by fear, my sleep disturbed by strange dreams. I beg, plead, thank, cajole, demand–that’s what prayer is… isn’t it? I pray but hear only silence.

What do I fear: Being like the self-righteous ones who seem so sure of everything, or not being like them? I always try to do the right thing but miss the mark too often. Could so many failures make me unworthy to make that final, heavenly cut? Do I fear the dissolution of my world by hatred and twisted values? Perhaps my values and way of life are not honest-just-true-humane-sincere enough. Am I not good enough; am I not enough? Is that why God has been so distant?

These thoughts, these insecurities are my inner enemy. My own weaknesses oppress and deceive me, drive me further into that low, dark place where God can barely hear me. It is there that my soul lies, heavy, disquieted.

Yet, even there the blackness is not all there is. A small point of light catches my eye, and the longer I look at it the larger it grows. Its warmth stirs my soul, bathing it in a soothing tenderness. And still, there is silence, but silence filled with meaning, a wordless prayer.

Then I realize that I am standing on a high and holy place, a place of reconciliation, where God judges me with love. God was with me, hearing me, all the time; I just didn’t know it.

Gracious God, grant me an awareness of your divine presence, let me welcome you into my heart, and accept my gratitude as we sit in silence, together. Amen.
-Carol Treston

Read: Psalm 54

Arrogant foes are attacking me; ruthless people are trying to kill me—people without regard for God.
-Psalm 54:3

I have a strong hunch that if you had quoted the third verse of this psalm to the people who stormed the Capitol in Washington, D.C. on January 6 you would have received an affirming, “Right on!” along with a token militia badge. Behind the outward political grievances connected with a national election the previous November, the animus propelling this event, and others like it across the country, seemed fired up by the Old Testament zeal against the wicked hosts who are hell-bent on our destruction. In fact, my greatest fear for the soul of our country is that the emotions of our better angels — compassion, empathy, love — no longer give us the same sense of being alive and human as the feelings of sheer outrage. In such times, as the psalm suggests, the Lord is indeed the one who sustains me.

Lord, you have truly delivered me from all my troubles. It is therefore only fitting that my “freewill offering” to you be the arrogance that I ascribe to my enemies but fail to decry in myself. Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: Psalm 6

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.
-Psalm 6:2

When COVID deniers talk about how COVID is “just a cold” or “just flu”, it takes every ounce of self-control that I have not to scream at them. A “cold” can land me in the emergency room with respiratory distress because I have asthma and cannot have oral steroids. I have ended up in the emergency room often enough with “colds” since I moved here that I am on a first-name basis with the respiratory therapy staff at Skagit Valley Hospital. One of the last “colds” I had in 2018 hit me so hard that I was sleeping 18 hours a day, and my doctor had to prescribe me a combination of medications so that I could mix my own Duo-Nebs as the hospital was overrun with flu patients. It is one of the reasons my family is quarantining so strictly—I went into sepsis the last time I had pneumonia, and we know that COVID will be even worse for me.

This psalm is labeled as “a prayer for recovery from grave illness”, and I can empathize with the psalmist. Bones shaking with terror (v.2)? I’ve had that. Soul struck with terror (v.3)? That’s not uncommon either. Weary with moaning (v.6)? That’s also normal.
Verse 9 describes the reason for the prayer: the Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord accepts my prayer. Healing may take time, but it does eventually come.

Be present with all who are fighting COVID, dear Lord, and protect all the health workers who are treating COVID patients. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: Psalm 4

When you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent.
-Psalm 4:4b

Each night before sleep, I enter the sacred realm of prayer. I structure my prayer time using the ACTS model: Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. On any given night, I dwell in each of those four rooms for as long as I need.

Some nights, I am awash with adoration, especially if I have spent time outdoors. On difficult days, I linger in the virtual confessional (a holdover from my youth in the Roman Catholic Church). Thanksgiving is my favorite room, and I usually tarry there for many minutes. If this past year has taught me anything, it is to be thankful for even the smallest of blessings. When I have spent a considerable amount of time giving thanks (which I also do all day long as the Spirit moves me), I move into the final room: Supplication.

Psalm 4 is about supplication:

Answer me when I call to you, my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; have mercy on me and hear my prayer.

David opens this psalm with a passionate plea. As one commentary noted, David isn’t throwing up a wayward prayer to the heavens here; he is asking for God’s immediate attention. David asks why the ungodly prosper (sound familiar?) and he laments about those whose ways are contrary to God’s ways (sound familiar again?) At the end of the psalm, David asks God to set him apart for God’s purpose and glory. With this assurance, he sleeps.

When sleep is about to overtake me, I close with a familiar ending I have used for many decades:

Dear Lord, I place my life into Your hands tonight; hold me fast until the morning light. Amen.