He sent redemption to His people. He has commanded His covenant forever. Holy and awesome is His name! The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. All those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! (Verses 9-10)
The young man walking near the field that morning heard a quiet whimper. Maybe a wounded animal. It was hard to tell. He walked further, but heard it again. Stopped him cold. I think it's a baby. The man then cut into the short grass of the acreage to try and find the child. It lay not far from the road, umbilical still attached, naked and unwashed from its recent birth. A baby girl. Thrown, no doubt, by her mother into a certain death, unwanted. Garbage to the woman. The traveler, however, had great compassion on the tiny wriggling child wallowing in the blood of her birth. "Live!" he cried as he took her into his arms. "Live, child!" Oh, how he loved her in that moment.
The man took the baby into the village where be found a wet nurse to care for her. He provided her with a home and family. Out of his bounteous wealth, he spared no expense on her as she grew into womanhood. It was his care for her that caused her to flourish. Though he traveled extensively, the man kept in touch with the parents who had taken her in. He hadn't seen her in years when he came upon her again. This time she was fully grown, a woman tall and graceful. But she was poorly clothed. With no sense of propriety. In need of a different cleansing than before. She was lovely to him, so he took his expensive cloak and covered her with it. Offered his life to her. Wanted her to be his forever. Took her to be his bride.
In his love for the young woman, the man covered her in silks and fine leather. Bathed her uncleanness and anointed her with oil. He bought her expensive jewelry. Put jewels in her ears and necklaces around her neck and made her his queen. As such, the woman had the best foods, the finest flour, honey and oils. Her exceeding beauty was renowned worldwide. His love had made her beautiful, but she trusted in it and used it for her own advantage. Lured other men into their home and lay about with them on the gorgeous robes her husband had provided. In her debauchery, she took the jewelry and had it made into little gods to wear around her neck. The abundance of food in her home also became a lure for her liaisons with lesser men. The last straw for the husband who loved her was when she took their children and sacrificed them to the god of self that had completely overtaken her soul.
What to do. She has completely forgotten that I took her from the field and made her live! In the darkness of her adulteries--her constant thoughts of only herself--she doesn't remember where her beauty came from. No thankfulness. No reciprocal love for the one who saved her from death. Gave her abundance. Saw her potential in grace and beauty. No understanding of the heart of the one who loved her so. The heart of God.
God Himself tells this story in Ezekiel 16. And it played in my head this morning when I read this psalm again. It is God Who finds us in our need. Crying in our desperation. Needing a Savior as we lie naked and vulnerable in the field of woe in which we find ourselves abandoned by every addiction and trick of the devil to die in our pain. Whimpering and alone, He comes to find us. Takes us up and nurtures us, marries us to Himself as His Beloved. This is the heart of our God. It is the reverence for that which is the beginning of our understanding of Him, the catalyst for wisdom. If we are in awe only of His wrath, scared by His power or bowed down under His commandments, we miss the real reason to fall at God's feet in holy awe. It is His relentless love for us that should make us say with the psalmist, "Holy and awesome is His name!" He redeemed us by His own will out of His vast, fathomless and everlasting love to become people He makes a promise to. Really? Caught up in God's hands from the bloody repercussions of our natural birth to be born again into royalty, clothed in fine linen, tended to, provided for, watched over and coddled. We belong to God, His children, the Bride of Christ. No wonder when we go after other gods, spirits of the universe who can only be a facsimile of the real and powerful God of All, it is to Him adulterous. We leave Him for Hindu gods or the worldly idols of our selfish hearts. When He, alone, is the God who cares for us.
In order to walk with Jesus, we must understand and revere that heart. We won't last long in the faith if we think it's about the rules of the game. The stakes are too high and we'll lose because we don't have it in us to be perfect like the law demands. Nor will we be glued to the Father if all we want is good times because life is hard and things don't always go our way. If we think God is a great big Santa in the sky, we'll also fail when we don't get what we want every time we pray. I was thinking last night as I prayed before I fell asleep about God's rescue of me from sin. I was pretty far gone in my heart. Trapped by own choices. Deep in the pit. But what I discovered as I cried out to the One Who had found me in the field was that I loved Him just a little bit more than I loved my sin. Pitiful, I know. But it was the beginning of wisdom for me. He loved me first. My love was reciprocal, a response to His. But certainly not in kind. And the knowledge that my God still loved me, stuck in the mire as I was, so pierced the darkness of my heart that it melted just a little. I remembered a far off time when I'd danced before Him and adored Him. And I was homesick for that relationship. It wasn't until that moment that I grasped the depth of my failure. But my Beloved wanted me back. And that was enough to get me dragging my mud-slogged body out of hell.
In my prayer I was asking my Father last night to bind me to Him. To carry me along with Him like mothers carry their children in Baby Bjorns. To hear my Father's pulse. Never again do I want to lose the wonder of the Father's love because it is that love that makes me yearn to understand Him better and to walk in a way that pleases Him. And that is the wisest choice I can make.
The young man walking near the field that morning heard a quiet whimper. Maybe a wounded animal. It was hard to tell. He walked further, but heard it again. Stopped him cold. I think it's a baby. The man then cut into the short grass of the acreage to try and find the child. It lay not far from the road, umbilical still attached, naked and unwashed from its recent birth. A baby girl. Thrown, no doubt, by her mother into a certain death, unwanted. Garbage to the woman. The traveler, however, had great compassion on the tiny wriggling child wallowing in the blood of her birth. "Live!" he cried as he took her into his arms. "Live, child!" Oh, how he loved her in that moment.
The man took the baby into the village where be found a wet nurse to care for her. He provided her with a home and family. Out of his bounteous wealth, he spared no expense on her as she grew into womanhood. It was his care for her that caused her to flourish. Though he traveled extensively, the man kept in touch with the parents who had taken her in. He hadn't seen her in years when he came upon her again. This time she was fully grown, a woman tall and graceful. But she was poorly clothed. With no sense of propriety. In need of a different cleansing than before. She was lovely to him, so he took his expensive cloak and covered her with it. Offered his life to her. Wanted her to be his forever. Took her to be his bride.
In his love for the young woman, the man covered her in silks and fine leather. Bathed her uncleanness and anointed her with oil. He bought her expensive jewelry. Put jewels in her ears and necklaces around her neck and made her his queen. As such, the woman had the best foods, the finest flour, honey and oils. Her exceeding beauty was renowned worldwide. His love had made her beautiful, but she trusted in it and used it for her own advantage. Lured other men into their home and lay about with them on the gorgeous robes her husband had provided. In her debauchery, she took the jewelry and had it made into little gods to wear around her neck. The abundance of food in her home also became a lure for her liaisons with lesser men. The last straw for the husband who loved her was when she took their children and sacrificed them to the god of self that had completely overtaken her soul.
What to do. She has completely forgotten that I took her from the field and made her live! In the darkness of her adulteries--her constant thoughts of only herself--she doesn't remember where her beauty came from. No thankfulness. No reciprocal love for the one who saved her from death. Gave her abundance. Saw her potential in grace and beauty. No understanding of the heart of the one who loved her so. The heart of God.
God Himself tells this story in Ezekiel 16. And it played in my head this morning when I read this psalm again. It is God Who finds us in our need. Crying in our desperation. Needing a Savior as we lie naked and vulnerable in the field of woe in which we find ourselves abandoned by every addiction and trick of the devil to die in our pain. Whimpering and alone, He comes to find us. Takes us up and nurtures us, marries us to Himself as His Beloved. This is the heart of our God. It is the reverence for that which is the beginning of our understanding of Him, the catalyst for wisdom. If we are in awe only of His wrath, scared by His power or bowed down under His commandments, we miss the real reason to fall at God's feet in holy awe. It is His relentless love for us that should make us say with the psalmist, "Holy and awesome is His name!" He redeemed us by His own will out of His vast, fathomless and everlasting love to become people He makes a promise to. Really? Caught up in God's hands from the bloody repercussions of our natural birth to be born again into royalty, clothed in fine linen, tended to, provided for, watched over and coddled. We belong to God, His children, the Bride of Christ. No wonder when we go after other gods, spirits of the universe who can only be a facsimile of the real and powerful God of All, it is to Him adulterous. We leave Him for Hindu gods or the worldly idols of our selfish hearts. When He, alone, is the God who cares for us.
In order to walk with Jesus, we must understand and revere that heart. We won't last long in the faith if we think it's about the rules of the game. The stakes are too high and we'll lose because we don't have it in us to be perfect like the law demands. Nor will we be glued to the Father if all we want is good times because life is hard and things don't always go our way. If we think God is a great big Santa in the sky, we'll also fail when we don't get what we want every time we pray. I was thinking last night as I prayed before I fell asleep about God's rescue of me from sin. I was pretty far gone in my heart. Trapped by own choices. Deep in the pit. But what I discovered as I cried out to the One Who had found me in the field was that I loved Him just a little bit more than I loved my sin. Pitiful, I know. But it was the beginning of wisdom for me. He loved me first. My love was reciprocal, a response to His. But certainly not in kind. And the knowledge that my God still loved me, stuck in the mire as I was, so pierced the darkness of my heart that it melted just a little. I remembered a far off time when I'd danced before Him and adored Him. And I was homesick for that relationship. It wasn't until that moment that I grasped the depth of my failure. But my Beloved wanted me back. And that was enough to get me dragging my mud-slogged body out of hell.
In my prayer I was asking my Father last night to bind me to Him. To carry me along with Him like mothers carry their children in Baby Bjorns. To hear my Father's pulse. Never again do I want to lose the wonder of the Father's love because it is that love that makes me yearn to understand Him better and to walk in a way that pleases Him. And that is the wisest choice I can make.
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