Goodnight Moon

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I am just worn out with the turmoil.

Because lately, the inside of my brain has been feeling a lot like this:

I am worn out with arguments. Worn out by the incessant, never ending torrent of words that floods from the fingertips and/or mouths of a few. Whether it's a religious/doctrinal issue, or a political issue, or a "preparing for a depression/it's the downfall of capitalism" issue, I have just had enough.

Enough!!!

Honestly, I have enough issues in my own life that need attention, without getting myself worked up into a frenzy about one. more. thing.

And that's why, I am so glad to tell you, that today's psalm of ascent, Psalm 131, has nothing to do with any of those issues. In fact, in many ways, this psalm, to me, is the antithesis of turmoil.

Here's the text in the original:

My heart is not proud, O Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.

So, let's look at it a little chunk at a time. Here's the first verse again:

"My heart is not proud, O Lord,
my eyes are not haughty."

You know, God hates arrogance. He abhors pride. He says so, often in the Bible. Why do you think that is? I have some theories about that.

I think one reason he hates arrogance is that it blocks our intimacy with Him. When we think we know it all, or at least have most of the answers, why would we reach out to Him anyway? We've got it figured out: no need to consult.

But our arrogance also causes us to judge others. And once we've got them labeled and categorized, we can easily dismiss them. Or condemn them. Even though that is most certainly NOT how we ourselves want to be treated. But arrogance can cause us to stumble into this trap.

When arrogance fills our minds, there is no room for mercy, or grace. We don't reach out to others in love, because we see them as below our own superior abilities.

And those are some pretty good reasons that God might have for despising arrogance. If the two greatest laws are to love God with all our hearts, and to love our neighbor as ourself, then arrogance stands directly in the way of allowing us to fulfill either of those commandments.

Moving on in the psalm:

"I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me."

When Job's friends tried to explain the ways of God to Job, and Job argued back presenting his own position, and in the process - while sounding wise - they all pretty much got everything wrong for about 34 chapters (and that was another torrent of words, if you ask me), God finally responds. In chapter 38, He shows up to settle the argument, and you know whose side he takes? No one's. Well, maybe Job's a little bit, but mostly he just sets all 4 of them straight with this verse:

"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?"

I sometimes sorta wish He'd just step in and settle a religious argument or two once and for all, except I'd probably find myself sitting there with my hand over my mouth, just like Job did, and like his friends should have.

Maybe we'd all be a lot better off if we followed the advice of the writer of the book of Ecclesiastes, who said in chapter 5, verse 2:

"God is in heaven,
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few."

(Hmmm....after reading that verse, maybe I should just shut down the blog...)

Tragedies happen. Things have happened in my own life and in the lives of my friends: illnesses, deaths. Things for which I have absolutely no explanation. And I think that rather than blathering on in ignorance about why things happen, sometimes a great big, "I got nuttin'" is perfectly acceptable, and perhaps even the wisest course.

I will offer up, however, this quote that Beth Moore shared in her study, a quote by an English monk of the 11th century named Anselm:

"I do not seek, O Lord, to penetrate thy depths. I by no means think my intellect equal to them; but I long to understand in some degree thy truth, which my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe, that I may understand."

Good stuff, huh?

Back to the psalm:

"But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore."

So the image the psalmist paints here is that of a content toddler - a child who trusts his parent, even with questions unanswered.

Isaiah 66:13 says:

"As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you."

And that's the image I am clinging to right now.

Is there any stage of human development more busy, more active than that of a weaned child - the toddler stage? Oh, my goodness, my kids absolutely wore me out!!!! No, seriously! They did!!! They could go more places in a split second, and think of more things to get into that they shouldn't, than you could shake a stick at. They were into everything!!! But at the end of the exhausting activities of the day, after they'd had their baths, and they smelled all fresh and sweet, they would climb up into my lap for that goodnight story and cuddle. When they were barely beginning to learn to speak, I think we read "Goodnight Moon" eight thousand five hundred and fifty two times. Over and over again, and I truly think that book played a big role in their language development, as I would point to the nouns: the moon, the room, the cow jumping over the moon, the light, and the red balloon.


They would lean their heads against my chest, and as they listened again to that story, the Sand Man would begin sprinkling a stray grain or two of sand near the corner of their eyes, and they would tiredly swipe at their eyes with the back of their hands, and finally relax and give in to the peace settling over them. Is there any more intimate, more surrendered time with your child than those sweet moments?

Well, that's what I hear the psalmist calling me to as I read this psalm: a surrender to the most wonderful, loving parent of all, my Father in Heaven.

So, for what it's worth, here's my own version of Psalm 131:

"I have finally figured out, Lord,
that I'm not the Queen of the Universe.
And I'm good with that.

I can't explain all mysteries,
and quite frankly, I'm relieved I don't have to.

But here in the quiet, Lord,
I'm ready to just sit a while with You
and lean my head back on Your chest
and feel Your arms around me
and receive Your loving comfort in my soul.

O people who belong to God! Put your hope in Him,
Both now and forevermore!"

Goodnight, Moon. At least till tomorrow.

Victory has a Big Gulp of Orange Juice...

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Maybe death really does come in threes.

Our story begins back in Athens, GA, in 1977, and not when Harry met Sally, but when the Big Bison met Tracy, while both were attending the University of Georgia. Tracy, our dear faithful friend through the years, who ended up being the best man at our wedding. Tracy, who many long years ago needed a guitar player for his Christian rock band, and who asked the Big Bison to fill the position. It was while playing in this band that the BB became friends with Ron, the drummer, and by extension, he became close to Ron's parents, Bernie and Bev. Bernie and Bev came to every show Ron ever did, at least everyone that they possibly could. They loved their child. They loved their children. And they loved their Lord. And that is pretty much the theme song of their life.

So, many miles away from the young Big Bison's own home, the Lord mercifully put my homeless BB into a brand new home, because that's just the kind of thing the Lord likes to do for His children. My dear (at that time future) husband needed a place to live, and Ron the drummer's parents invited the Big Bison to move in. In Psalm 68:5 David describes God as a father to the fatherless, and then he goes on to say in the next verse that God sets the lonely in families. In I Samuel 2:8, Hannah says that God raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap and seats them with princes, Now Bev explained to me once that their last name had something to do with royalty, so I can only say that in my sweet BB's life, these scriptures must have been literally fulfilled, because God picked him up and set him right into the middle of a loving Christian family with (at least according to Bev) royal connections. And if our riches are measured in the amount of love we possess, then my Bison landed in the lap of luxury. Not only did Bernie and Bev repeatedly tell me that the BB was their adopted son, their kids all added with a wry smile that he was, indeed, the FAVORITE son, who could do no wrong. (But, really, they're NOT bitter! Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)

I can only wish the same for my own children some day, if they are ever far from home, and for your children as well: while they are far from you, may some wonderful soul who loves Jesus reach out to MY child, and to YOUR child in love, and take them in, the way Bernie and Bev adopted the Big Bison, so many years ago. And may I be open to do the same for someone else's child! Who knows the comfort we might give - the ripples that spread out and affect areas of our world that we may never know of. That cup of cold water given in Jesus' Name - who knows where the refreshed traveler may be able to go carrying the Good News?

Anyway, all that happened over 30 years ago, and time has marched on. The Big Bison left Athens to pursue his dream of making music and moved to Nashville. We met, and made a lot of history together ourselves. But every few years, like a GOOD penny, Bernie and Bev would pop up, usually traveling through Nashville on their way to visit family up north. And they'd call us from the Motel 6, telling us they were in town, and off we'd go to meet up with them. We were treated to detailed updates on family news, and pictures. Oh, the pictures of the grandchildren! And the loving accounts of all their accomplishments. And the struggles as well. Bev's eyes and Bernie's eyes would fill with tears sometimes as they shared the stories of their children. Once they came to our house to visit, and I can still see Bev, in her late 70's, but snuggled up next to Bernie on the couch, her arm in his, bragging on Bernie's latest accomplishment. Bernie was always planting something, or painting something, or building something. He was a true Renaissance man, happiest creating stuff.

And Bev? Well, Bev's love of music came shining through her children. She managed to pass that love of music to each of her kids. And I think the show biz gene runs strong in the whole family, judging from the performances delivered by each of her 70-something year old sisters and their husbands. The memorial service and the music that followed was a near variety show, and Bev would have been so proud her buttons would have burst, at seeing all her kids and her sisters and their husbands performing. It's a shame she missed the party, but I think the celebration she is attending in heaven is actually probably a lot better, with music that is positively Divine.

As the years went by, the aging process took its terrible toll, and Bernie and Bev's trips through Nashville finally ceased. They moved into an assisted living situation as Bev began to lose touch with reality. The last time we visited them, Bev still knew us, which was gratifying, but that was several years ago. And toward the end, Bernie began to lose touch with reality more and more, himself. And so their biological children, Jack and Ron and Susan were left to carry out the painful process of the long goodbye, caring for their parents when their parents could no longer care for themselves.

Which brings us to February of this year. One of the nurses who cared for Bernie towards the end stood up at the memorial service and told the story of Bernie, just a couple of weeks before his death, reaching out at lunchtime to take the hand of the woman who no longer knew him, and saying to her ever so tenderly, ever so earnestly, "I love you, Beverly". That's the kind of love that blows me away. The kind of love that asks nothing for itself, that expects none of its own needs to be met. It just loves, for the sake of love. And two weeks later on Friday, February 13th, at 2:00 in the morning, Bernie passed on to be full time with the Lord. A last gift of love for his family? His final illness brought reconciliation between estranged family members, who drew together to honor the memory of the man who had poured out his life in love for them.

And exactly one month after that, on Friday, March 13th, at 2:00 in the morning, Bev, surrounded by her two sons and their wives, who were singing her on her way, took her leave as well. Her son Jack told us that they thought she had stopped breathing, and so they stopped singing. But then she opened her eyes, and looked at each one of them. So they began the hymn again, and she began gently moaning, on pitch. She went out singing, surrounded by her loving family. I have chills again just telling the story, because I can't think of a better way to go.

So the Big Bison and the kids and I arrived for the private family time of spreading Bev's ashes. Because the way this family learned to love from Bernie and Bev wasn't just with kind words. They show their love in action, with their lives. And so we were treated as family, which I guess is the way Bernie and Bev would have wanted it. And we each took a turn sprinkling some of Bev's ashes around the dogwood trees that were planted on either side of a bench out in the field near Jack's house. And as we sprinkled the ashes, we each shared a favorite memory of Bev. And we toasted her with orange juice, because it was Bev's firm belief that "orange juice makes you smile". And we told stories, and cried a few tears, but mostly we rejoiced that she has relocated to be with her dear Lord Jesus, and her loving husband Bernie, both of whom she loved and served faithfully all her life.

I have to tell you about my two favorite moments of the memorial service that was held at the funeral home for Bev. The first was when a spry old 80 something year old professional musician named Tom, who just happened to be Bev's brother in law, sat down before the service began, and at the request of the family, played "Georgia On My Mind". They invented the phrase "tickling the ivories" to describe the way Tom plays piano, I am firmly convinced. Oh, my goodness! That bald, wrinkly handed, age spotted old feller positively made that piano croon and sway. I think a piano in a funeral home rarely has had such an opportunity to strut its stuff and have such a nice time, being coaxed along by a master.

My other favorite moment was when Bev's grandson began to read from
I Cor. 13 and reworded it this way: "Grandma is patient, Grandma is kind, Grandma does not envy...". Well, it was break out the hankies time for me. I can't imagine a more beautiful tribute to pay to a human being than that scripture right there, with the person's name inserted in the place of "love". I guess it's because I know that I fall so very short of living out those qualities of love that are described in that chapter. It's what I WISH I did. But I cannot say that it is HOW I live. What a huge, huge honor Bev's grandson paid to her, but you know, he would never have said it were it not true. They weren't empty words.

So, between losing Bernie, and then my friend Big Nance's father Joe (whom I mentioned in my last blog entry), and then losing Bev, I've had just about enough of thinking about the finiteness of the life we know on this planet, and the terrible toll of sickness and aging on the body.

So, instead, I think I'll focus on living in such a way that my life brings honor to the Name of Jesus. I think I'll reach out to a lonely somebody who needs some encouragement. I think I'll try to be the kind of Mom who acts wisely on behalf of her children: giving them both firmness and mercy. I think I'll try to live up to the beautiful examples of Joe, and Bernie, and Bev. And thank the Lord for ETERNAL life - that belonging to Him means that this is NOT the end.

You've heard the verse from I Corinthians 15:55 that asks, "Where, O death, is your victory?" Paul says that when the perishable is clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying "Death has been swallowed up in Victory" will be true. I think in Bev's case, Victory washed death down with a big gulp of orange juice. And then smiled.

Because Bev's home!

Semper Fi

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I have a dear friend, and her name is Big Nance. We've been friends from our first class together in graduate school. We bonded as we laughed ourselves silly over the inanity of a particular professor of a statistics course we were taking. He was a professor in the Counseling department, and teaching statistics was nigh unto the polar opposite of his personal makeup (not that he really WORE makeup, you understand...At least, not to my knowledge...). The man would take the purely objective science of mathematics and attempt to turn it into something subjective: "Well, sure, um, uh, the uh, statistical mean, um uh, would be about 6, but, um, uh, how're you feelin' about that?". Oh, yes, and another favorite quote, "So, er, um, uh, hummatah hummutah, hummutah, boogitah, boogitah, boogitah, standard deviation..." Stimulating class. Positively mind blowing.

Anywho, Big Nance and I became Big Buds (I was known as Big Sooze). And our friendship has lasted well through the years. Twenty five years, this year, come to think of it.

Four years after I'd moved to Nashville, and five months after I'd married the Big Bison, my mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The first weekend that we learned of the diagnosis, the BB and I made the 7 hour drive home to WV to see Mom. Things looked awfully grim, and the biopsy showed that the brain tumor was virtually inoperable. That at best she could be bought an extra 6 months, and that would be filled with chemo and radiation and a lot of suffering. Now, my Mom was the most gentle woman you'd ever meet, but inside her velvet exterior was a spine of virtual steel. She was an extraordinary combination of gentleness and strength, who had walked faithfully with the Lord all her life. So my family made the decision together to let Mom go on home, without radical treatment, to the Savior she had served so faithfully for 69 years. But really, we didn't know how long Mom had. Maybe a month. Maybe two. So I left WV, and went back to my job in Nashville, leaving Mom in the hospital, being attended by my Dad, my sister and my brother who all lived in town.

The next weekend, I wanted to get back again to WV to see Mom. The BB stayed home in Nashville to work, and so my pal Big Nance volunteered to make that 7 hour drive home with me to WV, just to keep me safe and sane. I still marvel at the love in action my sweet friend showed me during that dark, awful time. I was numb with grief and fatigue, but Nance kindly rode along, keeping me on the highway and out of the ditches. When we got there, I went straight to the hospital room, where I took the night shift. And, again, Nance volunteered to stay with me. As the night wore on, the nurse told us that Mom's breathing had changed, and that it was likely that death was imminent. We called Dad, and with Dad and me by her side, suddenly Mom's pale, ice blue eyes came open. I told her I loved her, and that it was OK to let go, and Daddy told her what a good wife she had been, and how much he loved her, and with that she closed her eyes, and breathed her last. I have never felt the presence of the Lord more keenly in the room with me than I did that night. And bless her heart, Big Nance stood by and discreetly witnessed our terrible loss, and suffered with me. We went home, and after a few hours of sleep, Nance began helping us make lists (a skill she possesses at a level far above the rest of us mere mortals), and organizing the kitchen, and washing the dishes, and just generally doing what had to be done.

What a friend in deed was my friend Nance, when I was in need.

Well, this morning, I had the privilege of attending a memorial service to say goodbye to Nance's Dad, Big Joe. Big Nance, who does happen to be tall, comes by the moniker "Big" quite honestly, for Big Joe was a big guy, and a man among men. Whenever I was with him, he seemed to me to be a great big handsome growly old bear with the softest of hearts, and with a constant twinkle in his eye. And this morning, I witnessed some beautiful tributes that were paid to him by others who knew him better than I. Joe served as a Marine in the Korean War, and one of his fellow Marines, who pulled him to safety when Joe was wounded in battle against the Chinese, wrote perhaps the most moving tribute. Joe's buddy hailed him as a man who demonstrated by his life the motto of the Marine corps and the aspiration of every good Marine: Semper fidelis. Always faithful.

And as the pastor prayed the closing benediction over the congregation, he prayed a prayer that cut me to the heart. "Lord, we commit to you the soul of this man Joe, the man who always tried to be faithful. We commit him into Your hands, Lord, into the hands of the One who IS always faithful." And my little charismatic heart wanted to jump up right there in the middle of that quite respectable Presbyterian congregation and holler out, "Yes, Lord!!! Glory!!!"

For really, as wonderfully warm, and loving a man as Big Joe was, and as gently sweet but stronger than steel as my Mom was, who among us really IS Semper Fi? Truly, always faithful? In the words of an old hymn, "No, not one."

Still, I just wanted to say, that in the case of my dear friend Big Nance, the daughter of Big Joe, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, dear one. Semper Fi, my friend.

Love That Won't Let Go

Pin It So, I'm pressing onward to continue to journal through the Beth Moore study. If you're bored to tears, well, there are only 5 more psalms to get through, and maybe you can check back after that. But it's been good for me personally to get these thoughts out of my head and typed out, and perhaps here or there, they accomplish whatever task the Lord might have for them.

Today's Psalm is a beauty, however, and I don't want anyone who is interested to miss out on this treasure. I think maybe this is my favorite one so far. (It's hard to say...) Here's the original text of Psalm 130:



"Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.

If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits.
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord.
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait or the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel
from all their sins."



Let's take a closer look at what's going on in this psalm. "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!" It sounds to me like the psalmist has dug his own little pit, and there he sits, down in that pit, realizing exactly where he is, and the total impossibility of his situation. You know, when you're in a pit, it's a pretty isolating experience. Think Joseph, in the nice deep pit where his brothers wanted to leave him for dead (till brother Judah sorta kinda came to his almost rescue... only to SELL him to some slave buying Midianites... Sheesh... with brothers like that....)

You ever been in a pit? There are many kinds of pits: some more comfy than others, but, pardon the inevitable pun, they're just the pits. I've been there. Maybe somehow all your lovely props have been knocked out from under you - you used to think you knew what God had called you to do with your life, but suddenly, everything has changed. Maybe you find yourself stuck in the same old sin pattern that you THOUGHT you were making progress with... but no, there you go again... Maybe your health has taken a cross-country hike and left you behind in the dust. Maybe you've lost a child or a parent. Maybe you feel totally isolated because you're a home schooling Mom, and adult company just doesn't happen with the regularity you feel you need, and that leaves you feeling isolated.

Pits by their very nature leave us feeling isolated, and when we are isolated, I think the enemy is just licking his chops. You know how wolves hunt, right? They pick off the vulnerable prey, and isolate them from the flock. Isolation is NOT good for us.

But God loves us so much, he even shows up right there IN our pit. Even when we think we don't WANT Him! He is Immanuel. God WITH us. There in the pit.

"Out of the depths, I call to You, Lord!"

Can I just tell you what a blessing it has been to me to be in this Beth Moore study with the fabulous group of women who attend my church? I'm not so ISOLATED anymore! Our group meets one morning a week in my dear sister in the Lord's home, so it's not an officially sanctioned church thing. But let me tell you, it's a God ordained thing. Women are getting prayed for and loved on there. And I just thought I would mention, if any of you have toyed with the idea of doing such a thing in your own home, maybe this is the Lord nudging you to be a lifeline, to help some other friends you might have, to climb out of their pits as well. It doesn't have to be a church sponsored event. It doesn't even have to be women from your church. We ordered our materials through our church to take advantage of the church's discount, but other than that, we're just a group of women seeking the Lord together, praying for each other, and enjoying sweet fellowship, and a little time out of the pit.

Enough time on the first verse. Oh, this psalm has so much more, but I'm sure you're growing weary of reading, so let me just touch on a few more things.


"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning
more than watchmen wait for the morning."



Do you hear the expectation in the psalmist's voice as he tells of how he is waiting and watching for the Lord? On what does he base this confident expectation? "IN HIS WORD I put my hope." Put another way: His Word trumps our feelings. WHATEVER you might be feeling, what does His Word say? If God has said something in His Word, you can bank on it. Period.

"O Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption."

Unfailing love. Can you hear that?

My love is weak. My love fails. My love grows impatient, becomes exhausted, throws up its hands in the air and gives up in despair. But God's love for me NEVER FAILS. Oh, I could just stay there forever. His love is a love that will not let go.

And what kind of redemption does He offer? Full redemption. He buys me back lock, stock, and barrel. The good and the bad. And even the bad, he redeems so completely that in His skilled hands, it becomes the very thing that He turns around and uses for good. What can we say in response to so great a love, so complete a redemption.

My friend Diane brought to my mind an old hymn I used to sing in church by John Wesley, "Jesus, Lover of my Soul". And all morning the words to one of the later verses have been going through my mind. Here they are:

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound,
Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art
Freely let me take of Thee:
Spring Thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity!

Plenteous grace! Full redemption! Thank You, Jesus, for those sweet gulps of living water that you provide, new every morning.

As a somewhat anti-climax, here's my version of Psalm 130, reworded just for me:

Out of the hole I dug myself by my own sin,
I cry out to You, Lord!
Lord, please listen to me!
Hear my cry for help!

Lord if You were constantly keeping a record of all our sins
who could stand?
But with You, there is forgiveness.
What other response is there but to honor You?

I'm waiting for You, Lord.
I'm putting my hope in the words You have spoken.
My soul is watching for You
more eagerly than a watchman scans the horizon,
watching for the dawn's first light.

All God's people - put your hope in our Covenant Maker and Keeper
for with Him is love that won't let go
and total, complete redemption
He Himself will redeem His people from all their sins.


Where would I be without that love that won't let go?

The Woman at the Well

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This might seem a strange title for a post on Psalm 129, and I admit, arriving at this title was a bit of a tortuous journey for me, but bear with me, hear my tale, and all will eventually be made (fairly) plain.

Certain psalms are called imprecatory psalms. Imprecatory psalms are those psalms that contain curses or prayers for the punishment of the psalmist's enemies. To imprecate means to invoke evil upon, or curse. I looked this up on the internet, so I know that it's true. ; ) One of my teachers used to call them the "Go Get 'Em, God" psalms.

And in this particular psalm, Psalm 129, the psalmist talks about the pain and oppression he has endured in his life, and tells God of his desire that such people come to no good. Here's the text:

They have greatly oppressed me from my youth -
let Israel say -
they have greatly oppressed me from my youth,
but they have not gained the victory over me.
Plowmen have plowed my back
and made their furrows long.
But the Lord is righteous;
he has cut me free from the cords of the wicked.

May all who hate Zion
be turned back in shame.
May they be like grass on the housetops,
which withers before it can grow'
with it the reaper cannot fill his hands,
nor the one who gathers fill his arms.
May those who pass by not say,
"The blessing of the Lord be upon you;
we bless you in the name of the Lord."

So, you see what might be termed as a lack of charity in the psalmist's heart?

Beth Moore pointed out to us that the book "Hard Sayings of the Bible" says:
"David was the author of far more imprecatory psalms than anyone else." Yet, "David exhibited just the opposite of a vindictive or revengeful spirit in his own life."

So, how do we reconcile these two notions of cries for justice and vengeance in his writings, yet in actuality living out a life that exhibited much mercy?

Just because the psalmist pours out his very human emotions to God in prayer does not mean that God will automatically grant every request. God gives us prayer as an avenue of communication with Him. Sometimes He responds by granting our requests. And sometimes we ourselves are changed just through the process of pouring out our hearts to Him and giving vent to our emotions.

So, I see these psalms as man's attempt to reach out to God: telling Him the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Sometimes the stuff that life dishes out IS patently unfair. No two ways about it. Sometimes people behave toward us in a cruel, evil manner. Sometimes, after doing all the right things, we ourselves end up getting the short end of the happy stick.

But when life dishes us up a hot steaming plate of manure, there is One who cares, and who wants us to pour out our hearts to Him in prayer - to tell Him how we feel.

So how does all this relate to The Woman at the Well?

I was meditating on how it's been all the really painful things that have happened to me in my life: the death of both of my parents, a couple of miscarriages, a couple of extremely painful illnesses, the death of several godly friends - it's been those very things, the things that have driven me to near despair - that have instead driven me to my knees, crying out in desperation to God. And while He doesn't take away the pain immediately, He comes and quiets me with His love, and He rejoices over me with singing, and He gives me what I need to make it through that moment. And He carves out these deep wells of compassion inside of me, and empathy for others who are suffering similarly.

II Corinthians 1:3-4 says: "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."

So as I think about those wells He's carving out in me and filling up with Himself and His love, I find joy bubbling up at the good work He is doing inside of me. And I am reminded of this verse from Isaiah 12:3: "With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation."

And I think, you know what? I am that woman at the well. Perhaps a slightly different woman at the well from the woman who talked to Jesus in John 4, but basically, not so very different. I am receiving from Him the water that causes me to never thirst again. The water that He causes to bubble up inside of me is a spring that wells up to eternal life, and I am drawing it joyfully!

So, with apologies to my friend Yvonne, who is also known as the Woman at the Well, here's my version of Psalm 129, from THIS Woman at the Well.


Sin has greatly oppressed me since my youth -
let all God's people say -
sin has greatly oppressed me since my youth,
but the evil one has not gained the victory over me.
Pain has carved out deep places inside of me.
But the Lord is gracious,
and he fills those holes up with His love,
and makes them wells of compassion, mercy and grace.

May any that come against the kingdom of God
be turned back in shame.
May they quickly wither like plants that have no root;
in the same way may they bear no fruit.
May those who observe them not invoke
the blessing of God on their evil plans.



Today, I am praising God for wells of salvation. Have a great big tall glass of living water, yourself, while you're at it!