Oh, sing to the Lord a new song for He has done marvelous things! His right hand and His holy arm have worked salvation for Him. (Verse 1)
I waited patiently for the Lord. He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in God. Psalm 40
Debbie and Charlie were in their alley-facing garage when the man with the gun came suddenly toward them. Threatened to kill them if they didn't hand over what he wanted. Debbie pulled nervously at her wedding ring and Charlie hit his knees and began praying. He wanted to be talking to God in the moment his life was over. A seamless transition from here to there. "Shut up!" the bandit demanded, maybe both irritated and condemned. Then he ran away. The couple left once more in their garage to live another day. Saved.
The little Cambodian girl was only eleven years old when she was discovered wandering the filthy streets of Phnom Penh. Her tattered dress smelled of the garbage dump, and its residue found permanent residence beneath her ragged fingernails. Her eyes searched the landscape for danger even as she begged foreigners for coins or scraps of food. No one loved her. Mother and father were lost--or dead. Unscrupulous men trolled the alleys and streets hoping to find just such a girl to steal her away to Thailand and make money from her body. But Someone saw her there. He showed a young woman this child's need. Foursquare Children of Promise took her into the orphanage in Phnom Penh and washed her fragile body, shampooed the lustrous dark hair of its lice and debris and scrubbed her tiny hands until they shone. She got a new dress that day. And a uniform for school. When I saw her, she was worshipping, with her hands raised and her eyes closed, singing a song of unwavering love to her new Father. Saved.
Cancer emaciated her. Ate away at her body until it couldn't function any more. As she lay there, her mind wandered back to all the good days of her life. Her children and husband. Summer barbecues, walks at the beach, first days of school, last days of school, love, romance and the smell of rain in spring. She'd prayed so long to be rid of the disease that now took her breath from her. And in the quiet of the nights of pain, she lay awake when her household was peacefully asleep and thought of the first day she'd discovered her cancer. Of the words from the doctor's lips. Of her first response, "I am the Lord's." My last conversation with her was heartbreaking because it was our final good-bye. "I know where I'm going, though, Kay." She was choking on her tears. "Thank you for taking my hand and leading me to Jesus." And I cannot respond because all my breath is gone and the tears are running into my mouth. "Good-bye, my precious friend," I finally managed as I held the dead receiver in my hands. And then she left to go to Him, welcomed as the princess that she is. Saved.
It must be why there is so much singing in heaven. Being saved from all that threatens and destroys on this earth. The sheer relief of salvation. Our bodies go limp, our hearts race and our knees shake. All the worst case scenarios have been thwarted by a Hand that reaches down into our paltry planet life and does for us the impossible. Even in death. For it has been transformed by His great mercy into never-ending life. So whether the pit is real, sticking us in its miry quicksand, or circumstantial, trapping us in our inner life, it still threatens to suck from us our lives. We need a Savior or we'll perish. And oh how glorious for a hand to reach toward us in the last minutes of our drowning to pull us up into the air where we gasp for breath and realize we will no longer die. How can we praise the Rescuer enough, for He saw us as we fought the waters of our demise and loved us too much to let us drown. That should make us want to sing a brand new song! And make spectators turn and look, trying to understand how someone almost finished gets to begin again!
I waited patiently for the Lord. He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in God. Psalm 40
Debbie and Charlie were in their alley-facing garage when the man with the gun came suddenly toward them. Threatened to kill them if they didn't hand over what he wanted. Debbie pulled nervously at her wedding ring and Charlie hit his knees and began praying. He wanted to be talking to God in the moment his life was over. A seamless transition from here to there. "Shut up!" the bandit demanded, maybe both irritated and condemned. Then he ran away. The couple left once more in their garage to live another day. Saved.
The little Cambodian girl was only eleven years old when she was discovered wandering the filthy streets of Phnom Penh. Her tattered dress smelled of the garbage dump, and its residue found permanent residence beneath her ragged fingernails. Her eyes searched the landscape for danger even as she begged foreigners for coins or scraps of food. No one loved her. Mother and father were lost--or dead. Unscrupulous men trolled the alleys and streets hoping to find just such a girl to steal her away to Thailand and make money from her body. But Someone saw her there. He showed a young woman this child's need. Foursquare Children of Promise took her into the orphanage in Phnom Penh and washed her fragile body, shampooed the lustrous dark hair of its lice and debris and scrubbed her tiny hands until they shone. She got a new dress that day. And a uniform for school. When I saw her, she was worshipping, with her hands raised and her eyes closed, singing a song of unwavering love to her new Father. Saved.
Cancer emaciated her. Ate away at her body until it couldn't function any more. As she lay there, her mind wandered back to all the good days of her life. Her children and husband. Summer barbecues, walks at the beach, first days of school, last days of school, love, romance and the smell of rain in spring. She'd prayed so long to be rid of the disease that now took her breath from her. And in the quiet of the nights of pain, she lay awake when her household was peacefully asleep and thought of the first day she'd discovered her cancer. Of the words from the doctor's lips. Of her first response, "I am the Lord's." My last conversation with her was heartbreaking because it was our final good-bye. "I know where I'm going, though, Kay." She was choking on her tears. "Thank you for taking my hand and leading me to Jesus." And I cannot respond because all my breath is gone and the tears are running into my mouth. "Good-bye, my precious friend," I finally managed as I held the dead receiver in my hands. And then she left to go to Him, welcomed as the princess that she is. Saved.
It must be why there is so much singing in heaven. Being saved from all that threatens and destroys on this earth. The sheer relief of salvation. Our bodies go limp, our hearts race and our knees shake. All the worst case scenarios have been thwarted by a Hand that reaches down into our paltry planet life and does for us the impossible. Even in death. For it has been transformed by His great mercy into never-ending life. So whether the pit is real, sticking us in its miry quicksand, or circumstantial, trapping us in our inner life, it still threatens to suck from us our lives. We need a Savior or we'll perish. And oh how glorious for a hand to reach toward us in the last minutes of our drowning to pull us up into the air where we gasp for breath and realize we will no longer die. How can we praise the Rescuer enough, for He saw us as we fought the waters of our demise and loved us too much to let us drown. That should make us want to sing a brand new song! And make spectators turn and look, trying to understand how someone almost finished gets to begin again!
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