Let the glory of the Lord endure forever. Let the Lord be glad in His works. He looks at the earth and it trembles. He touches the mountains and they smoke. I will sing to the Lord as long as I live. I will sing praise to my God while I have my being. Let my meditation be pleasing to Him. As for me, I shall be glad in the Lord. Let sinners be consumed from the earth, and let the wicked be no more. Bless the Lord, Oh my soul. Praise the Lord! (Verses 31-35)
Arab. Pleasing. A primitive root: to braid, a pledge given in exchange for delivery of material goods. It implies sharing or association on a meaningful level. "Let my meditation braid me with God, as a pledge of my obedience to Him and His watch care over me."
During my morning devotional and prayers one morning, the sun came suddenly streaming through one of the windows in my home. I know the light was caused by the day opening up more fully, but the drenching of my face in the warmth of the new day did something also to my heart. My meditation was on purity of heart and soul. My yearning to be cleansed--clean. And as if orchestrated by the lighting director of a Broadway play, this ray of golden hope struck my face as I was praying for my God to light the darkened places in my life. Then I saw a picture. In my spirit I traveled with God to my soul. The center of me. The light had traveled there also, showing cobwebs and doors ajar, behind which still hid deceits, hurts or ignominious thoughts. What I knew in an instant was the light longed to shine into all of me. To sweep down the walls, vacuum up the crumbs of fear and doubt, to swing open the hesitant doors still obscuring sin and make me shine clean for the presence of the Lord Who dwells in me. To give the Holy Spirit a spotless living quarters. A holy tabernacle.
I thought of that morning this morning as I read these verses. Our meditations braid us into God. Bond us with Him because our God meets us there. Our sin for His righteousness. Our worries for His power. Our death for His life. A holy pledge to us that our devotion to our God is reciprocated with His pleasure. Not pleased because we become obsequious slaves! No! Pleased because we seek Him out in order to know Him. God isn't different from us in that respect. Made in His image, I would argue that we are much like Him in that respect. God loves us! We need to soak in that knowledge a bit. The One Who can strike a mountain and make it smoke or just look at the earth and make it tremble, gently listens as I speak to Him. All-Power stoops to hear my stuff.
But, like all parents, my Father wants a clean room. Things put in order. After all, my Father lives in my home. By the Holy Spirit, I am a tent of God--a little tabernacle of the Holy of Holies. If God had come into my life and tried to clean me up all at once, I wouldn't have survived the house keeping. Too much in disarray. Too unkempt and untidy to throw it all out at once. So great is my Father's patience with the slums in which He took up residence that He makes rearranging my interior a process I can handle. We work together and in so doing become braided in trust, hope, faith, love and joy. I want an ever brighter home for my God. Sparkling, shiny, large and comfortable for the Holy Spirit to dwell there. So that my God knows this tabernacle is a sanctuary filled with light, transparent not only to Him but to all I meet. For my God to be glad as He sits in the easy chair of my soul as we talk of everything all day is my highest goal. To please Him with the intentions of my heart and the purity of my soul is still a work in progress. But I am glad of the process. Hopeful of the outcome. And intent on getting this house spotless.
Arab. Pleasing. A primitive root: to braid, a pledge given in exchange for delivery of material goods. It implies sharing or association on a meaningful level. "Let my meditation braid me with God, as a pledge of my obedience to Him and His watch care over me."
During my morning devotional and prayers one morning, the sun came suddenly streaming through one of the windows in my home. I know the light was caused by the day opening up more fully, but the drenching of my face in the warmth of the new day did something also to my heart. My meditation was on purity of heart and soul. My yearning to be cleansed--clean. And as if orchestrated by the lighting director of a Broadway play, this ray of golden hope struck my face as I was praying for my God to light the darkened places in my life. Then I saw a picture. In my spirit I traveled with God to my soul. The center of me. The light had traveled there also, showing cobwebs and doors ajar, behind which still hid deceits, hurts or ignominious thoughts. What I knew in an instant was the light longed to shine into all of me. To sweep down the walls, vacuum up the crumbs of fear and doubt, to swing open the hesitant doors still obscuring sin and make me shine clean for the presence of the Lord Who dwells in me. To give the Holy Spirit a spotless living quarters. A holy tabernacle.
I thought of that morning this morning as I read these verses. Our meditations braid us into God. Bond us with Him because our God meets us there. Our sin for His righteousness. Our worries for His power. Our death for His life. A holy pledge to us that our devotion to our God is reciprocated with His pleasure. Not pleased because we become obsequious slaves! No! Pleased because we seek Him out in order to know Him. God isn't different from us in that respect. Made in His image, I would argue that we are much like Him in that respect. God loves us! We need to soak in that knowledge a bit. The One Who can strike a mountain and make it smoke or just look at the earth and make it tremble, gently listens as I speak to Him. All-Power stoops to hear my stuff.
But, like all parents, my Father wants a clean room. Things put in order. After all, my Father lives in my home. By the Holy Spirit, I am a tent of God--a little tabernacle of the Holy of Holies. If God had come into my life and tried to clean me up all at once, I wouldn't have survived the house keeping. Too much in disarray. Too unkempt and untidy to throw it all out at once. So great is my Father's patience with the slums in which He took up residence that He makes rearranging my interior a process I can handle. We work together and in so doing become braided in trust, hope, faith, love and joy. I want an ever brighter home for my God. Sparkling, shiny, large and comfortable for the Holy Spirit to dwell there. So that my God knows this tabernacle is a sanctuary filled with light, transparent not only to Him but to all I meet. For my God to be glad as He sits in the easy chair of my soul as we talk of everything all day is my highest goal. To please Him with the intentions of my heart and the purity of my soul is still a work in progress. But I am glad of the process. Hopeful of the outcome. And intent on getting this house spotless.
No comments:
Post a Comment