The 23rd psalm is so simple in its beauty, so evocative in its imagery. For generations, it has inspired artists and comforted mourners. I want to connect this psalm with my reflections on Psalm 21 and Psalm 22. Psalm 21 is triumphant, God will demonstrate his power. Psalm 22 is apoplectic, “My God why have you forsaken me?” Psalm 22 screams the questions that Psalm 21 should rightfully raise, “Is God’s victory and hope certain even in the darkest moments of life?” In Psalm 23, the psalmist no longer has a voice to shout his objections in the assembly, rather he whispers them in sobs all alone in the dark. Psalm 23 takes the question, “How?”, to its fullest extent and in doing so gives us a glimpse into the heart of the Gospel of Jesus: “How does God keep his promises in the valley of the shadow of death?”

You see, the promises of God always run the risk of disintegrating into platitudes. Quasi-spiritual assurances like, “everything happens for a reason” or “God works everything for the good of those who love him” are nice and all but don’t do us a lot of good when we are lost in the abyss, traversing treacherous terrain, surrounded by predators, exhausted from walking and fear. Ideas are nice, they are content of faith, but in the face of certain death, I need more.

Enter Psalm 23. The psalmist proclaims, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.” He proclaims the tender care of the Lord in sustaining and guiding him. David expresses the innocent bliss of trusting in God to provide. But then, almost on a dime, he turns from the sunlight to the shadow. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley ^[1]I still like the feel of the  traditional translation “valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

Did you catch that? The question of God-forsakenness in Psalm 22 is given its free expression to deconstruct any notions of simplistic faith. What about the valley of the shadow death? Am I forsaken there? How are you going to keep your promises there? According to Psalm 23, God will not merely decree his will from far off in Heaven, he will not leave us to rest on cliches while we wallow in the darkness, he won’t even miraculously light up that darkness in a demonstration of sheer power. No, none of this will do. How will God keep his promises? He himself will come to us. He is right there, walking in he valley of the shadow of death as he walked in the Garden of Eden in the cool of the evening.

Psalm 23 doesn’t just tell us we are not abandoned, that we will not be forgotten or forsaken. It shows us. The Lord is our shepherd, we don’t have to be afraid not simply because he is powerful, good, full of justice and mercy. He of course is all of those things and more. We don’t have to be afraid because he is here. His rod, his staff, his table. Even in the darkest hour, he comes to us.

What is in me that needs to die before I die?   Lent, for all its caricatures of giving up chocolate or not drinking so much red wine, is the seasonal embodiment of Jesus’ promise that those who wish to find their life must lose it.  Lent is a journey away from petty idolatries and distractions towards a life focused on the Jesus way—the way of sacrifice and meekness, the way that , incidentally, happens to lead to truth and life.  As Christians around the world receive the ashes tomorrow and we hear the sobering words, “Remember from dust you have come and to dust you shall return,” we are not engaging in an exercise of cynical fatalism or morbid asceticism.  Nor are we merely wallowing in self-righteous self-pity.  Rather, we are taking the first step, with Jesus, towards Jerusalem:  towards the upper room, towards Gethsemane and Golgotha, and ultimately, the empty tomb.

The ashen cross smudged on the foreheads of faithful children, women, and men declares with the psalmist that we are but a breath, a flower cut from the bush that dies as soon as it flourishes (Ps. 103).  Furthermore, we wear the dark marks of our humanity and our failure to live in proper relationship with God, one another, and creation.  We have sinned and sin leaving mangled relationships in every part of its scorched-earth wake needs more than just a simple, “sorry.”   Ash Wednesday, as the gateway to the lenten season, is a funeral for our idolatrous lives, the clear-eyed acknowledgment that we have sinned and we will die.  We clothe ourselves in ashes and sackcloth mourning our own shortcomings, repenting of our sins.  And yet underlying even this judgment is an indescribable current of hope that looks to a day when God himself will clothe our feeble mortal bodies with the imperishable garments of eternity (1 Cor. 15).

When I, as a pastor, impose the ashes, I look into the face of people I love and walk with everyday and tell them one of the two or three truest things I am capable of saying to them:  “You are going to die.”  When Christ talked to his disciples of his impending sacrifice he followed up with an equally cryptic statement:  “But in three days I will rise again” (Mark 8:31).  The Messiah, according to Peter and many of his contemporaries, was supposed to restore the Kingdom.  He couldn’t exactly manage those affairs from the grave.  But the disciples, as a microcosm for the world at large, fail to understand what Jesus is telling them.   When Jesus is telling his disciples, “I am going to die,” he is in the same breath saying, “I am going to live and you are too!”  We would have God form a bureaucracy and give us a cushy job.   Instead he offers us himself and his eternal kingdom.  God’s life offered to us is always better than the one we would dream up for ourselves.  Even our imaginations need resurrecting.

But first, the dying.  There is no get-rich-quick scheme in the kingdom of God, no life-hacks for eternity.  There is no way to resurrection except through death.  Jesus, as the incarnate Son of God, died everyday to his own wants and desires and submitted to the will of the Father.  Lent is a 40-day period where we practice the art of dying well—the art of dying like Jesus.   But just as Jesus’ death is not ultimately about death, we don’t die merely for the sake of dying.  We die so that we may live.  We fast so that we may feast.  We deny ourselves so that we might share.  We allow the Spirit to do meticulous surgery on our hearts so that those renewed hearts might beat for God and for others.  So the question of lent remains what needs to die in us before we die?  What needs to die in us so that we may live?  “The world is not conclusion,” Emily Dickinson wrote.  Death is not the end.  But the only way to resurrection is to come and die.

The juxtaposition between Psalm 21 and Psalm 22 could not be more striking. Look at the end of Ps. 21:

Be exalted, O Lord, in your strength! We will sing and praise your power.

Now read the beginning of Ps. 22:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? In many ways the bookends of these two psalms frame the Christian life.

Psalm 22 tests the integrity of the promises of Ps 21. It’s one thing to declare in the sanctuary that “your hand will find out all your enemies; your right hand will find out those who hate you” and another to be tortured mercilessly at the hands of those very same enemies. And the question the two psalms ask together, “Do these promises hold up in the darkest nights of the soul?” Psalm 22 moves us from the comfort of the congregation to the bloodthirsty chaos of a lynch mob. You can hear the thuggish mocking of the strong bulls ^[1]Psalm 22v12 and the ravenous lions ^[2]Psalm 22v13 surround our psalmist.

As the people who follow the crucified Jesus, we walk the line of trust and hope, resting in the promises of God and being literally God-abandoned, stretched to our breaking and pierced by this life.  If the promises of God are true, promises for life from barrenness, life from exile, life from death, then they have to be true in our moments of God-forsakenness.

This psalm contains such stunning poetry that finds its fullest manifestation in Jesus. As he is poured out like water, as his bones are jolted from their joints, and his heart melts like a candle that has been forgotten about, ultimately to be laid in the dust of death.^[3]Ps. 22vv14-18 is so hauntingly beautiful and bears witness to so much of the pain of life; Jesus holds on to the promise. He holds on to the promises of God that God will hear and save^[4]Ps. 22vv19-21, that the poor shall have their share ^[5]Ps. 22vv26, that the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the Lord like waters cover the seas ^[6]Ps. 22vv27-28, and that his arm is long enough to reach even to the grave ^[7]Ps. 22vv29-30.

The line between victory and utter defeat is  tear-soaked, blood-stained, anguish-ridden faith. Are the promises of God true? Ps. 21 says they are true in the congregation in the songs of the people of God. Ps. 22 says, yes, they are even true in the blackest night, in the curses of the enemies of God. The cross is simultaneously the place where all hope is lost and the only place that hope is possible. Jesus, holds onto the promises of God with nail-pierced hands, this is faith that proves God’s word true.

 

When you think about it, the claims of the covenant people of the Old Testament are not even slightly absurd. At no time in its history was Israel the dominant power in its region.  Rarely did the nation enjoy peace and autonomy.  Mostly, the nation was being squeezed like a vice by forces from Egypt (the south) and forces from Assyria, Babylon, or Persia (the north). And yet there is insistence that the children of Abraham lie at the center of the story of the world and that Zion, the City of David, is the geographic center of the world. The promise to Abraham was always a universal one, weaving the disparate strands of the tribes and nations of the world into one unified cord. If the God of Israel, YHWH, was trying distinguish the nation of Israel among the nations of the world he certainly had an interesting way of doing it. Surely, Israel, constantly fighting for its life, might suggest an alternative plan.

And yet the Lord will not short-circuit the process. He has called a people, a people to be a nation of priests, a people to be witnesses to his salvation and loving kindness, a people to be formed and shaped by his passion and words, a people which would form the very tabernacle of his presence. He knows this people will only be able to fulfill these tasks in fits and starts. He knows that there will be pain, confusion, betrayal, and injustice. If he wanted to accomplish a certain task, he should be fired for his severe lapse in judgment and inefficiency to execute his vision but the way the Lord goes about things suggest he may have something entirely different in mind.

Psalm 20 is a corporate psalm offered on behalf of the king of Israel. As we hinted at above, the king of Israel often entered battle with a smaller military budget, technological disadvantages, and troop shortages. And still the psalmist insists, “May we shout for joy over your victory, and in the name of our God set up our banners.” Is this just glib optimism from a self-deluded startup—on the modern geopolitical spectrum, this would be like Uzbekistan saying, “Hey Russia, hey China, let’s do this.” Or perhaps this confidence, this triumphalism is not vain nationalism but pointing us towards something larger.

“Now I know that the Lord will help his anointed; he will answer from his holy heaven with mighty victories by his right hand. Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is i the name of the Lord our God. They will collapse and fall, but we shall rise and stand upright.”^[1]Ps. 20vv6-8

The people of Israel were a people who never washed the sand from the shore of the Red Sea off their feet. Everywhere they went that story followed them, defined them. On that day, outside of Egypt, the question of victory had nothing to do with the inventory of their weaponry or their strategic acumen. In fact, on that day they stood helplessly with their backs against the sea, waiting to be slaughtered by the Egyptians. But the Lord, “answered in the day of trouble.^[2]Ps. 20v1” He split the seas, he made a way. The people, in Psalm 20, sing the past into the present and the future because they know that the question of victory is not what’s in their hands but whose hands they are in. Over the long arc of the history of Israel, we are not simply receiving information about what happened to a certain people long ago. Rather, we are being formed as a people of promise witnessing what happens when we recognize that the story was never about us to begin with. The story is about God, God dwelling near, God promising, God saving, God sustaining. God is not undertaking a project, he is forming a people.

[Click Here For Part One]

6. Build Sabbath Into Your Ministry

The student ministry calendar is prohibitive, especially if you have a family. Often, there are several nights out each week in addition to whenever your group meets. Everybody involved—students, parents, leaders, you, and your family—benefit from regularly scheduled rest in the calendar. Take a week off from your normal gathering, encourage your students to spend that time having a meal with their families. Spend that time with your own family. Slow down at the end of the summer when things naturally taper off. None of this is rocket science but there is a reason that so many pastors start out in youth ministry and then move to a different role within a few years: keeping up with the schedule is difficult. But it’s not impossible—if you build rest into your ministry calendar.

7. Dig In Deep

[This one is from my beautiful, wise, and brave wife Courtney]-You can’t do this one without committing to #6 above. But once you have established a ministry calendar you can live with, make it a habit of signing a mental contract of sorts, binding yourself to staying in your ministry setting for a certain amount of time. For Courtney and I, we would reevaluate every couple of years taking into account the state of our family, asking whether we were still truly serving the needs of our students, and the state of the church that we were a part of. All of these served as factors for us to be able to say that we would be here until a certain date and then would commit to reevaluating at that point. Once we had prayerfully considered our involvement, we could be all in with our students in a way that provided for slow, steady growth. Longevity in ministry gives you credibility in people’s lives that you don’t have to fight for. You get it just by showing up and being consistent. There is no substitute for trust in ministry and there is no shortcut through the time it takes to build that kind of trust. When possible, stay.

8. Parents Need Encouragement Too

Often our interactions with parents are limited to communicating details or listening to the problems they are having with their child at home. Those things are important. But just as you should encourage your students regularly and verbally, you should also tell parents the things that you see in their kids. It’s not fair, but parents often get the worst of our students and we often get the best of them. When you see those glimpses of what God is doing in their life or the young woman or young man that a particular student is becoming, tell their parents. Your words will often fall upon the ears of people who feel like they have no idea what they are doing and certainly no confirmation that they are getting through to their kids in any way. One I found helpful in this regard is, Like Dew Your Youth by Eugene Peterson. You can purchase it by clicking the link below.

9. One Is The Only Number That Matters

[Also from Courtney] I was recently out of college, spending four year studying the Scriptures, loaded with information and exuberance to share with this new group of students I was going to be leading. I prepared my talk for the entire week leading up to our Sunday night gathering. I had so much to say (so I thought), all I needed was a group to share it with. I had so many visions of kids hearing what I had to say, surrounding their lives  to Jesus, laughing at all my jokes, and thinking, “Wow, I never knew Jesus was this good.” Sunday night came, my first official gathering as youth pastor, and six kids showed up. Turns out, it’s kind of awkward to preach a long sermon to six kids. I was flustered by the difference between my expectations and reality and so I completely scrapped what I had planned, dejected by the small crowd. I thought to myself, “I will give them the good stuff when more of them show up.” But here’s the thing, it kept happening. Week by week, six kids here, maybe eight kids there and I would just kind of get sucked into the malaise allowing the environment to influence me rather than vice versa. About six months in, we did an event where only one (ONE!) kid showed up. I had five adult leaders there and one kid. I was completely convinced that I should quit but in that moment I felt the Lord speak to me as clearly as I ever have, “Ian, that one matters to me so it better matter to you.” Instead of canceling the event and sending everyone home, we all hung out and laughed together and I, for the first time in my ministry, understood the story Jesus tells of the shepherd leaving the ninety-nine to find the one lost sheep. That was one of the early turning points for me, not allowing the size of the group to determine how I interacted with them or my vision for their lives. It wasn’t until I began to give all of myself joyfully to whoever happened show up that anyone actually started showing up. Whether you have a group of two-hundred or a group of two, one is the key number. Go after the one.

10. I Will Be In Your Life As Long As You’ll Have Me

Youth ministry is, by design, a seasonal ministry. But the relationships you build don’t have to be. Your interactions with your students will change, you may be separated by long distances, but I would encourage you to continue to make yourself available to your students long after they are under your care. I say to our students, “I will be in your life as long as you’ll have me.” I am not over-promising anything or taking responsibility for their spiritual growth throughout the remainder of their life. I am simply acknowledging the value of the relationship that I have built with them, honoring their impact on me and mine on them. Seasons will change, relationships will lose the immediacy of proximity but for many students, they follow Jesus because they saw something beautiful, something true in the lives of the adults that invested in them during their teenage years. This is certainly true for me. One of the greatest joys I have experienced has been growing in my friendships with adults who used to be my leaders and seeing students that we used to shepherd grow into true friends.

 

 

The end of this year marks the end of my time in vocational youth ministry. I could not be more grateful for the amazing people that we have gotten to serve and those we were blessed to work alongside. I am forever shaped by my experiences—both painful and joyful—working with students. In this post, I am waxing nostalgic about some of the lessons I have learned. While these may be specific to my observations and experiences in youth ministry, they are not sequestered to that particular field or church work in general. Truth is truth, because it transcends borders. Grace and peace.

1. Prayer Is The Work.

You got into student ministry because you (hopefully) enjoy being in the presence of students. One problem, those people to whom you are ministering are in school seven hours a day, nine months out of the year. So what do you do when everything is all planned and everyone is in school? I can’t tell you how many youth pastors I have spoken to simply don’t feel like they know how to fill out the hours of their day. A lot of youth pastors feel guilty because they spend their time distracted on social media or completing busy work tasks because at least an open computer makes them appear productive. We often spend our time coming up with more efficient ways to reach people and miss the fact that God has given us the most efficient way to reach people: his own presence. When we pray, we spend time with Jesus, we become more like him, and thus become better pastors.

2. Stories Win.

Can you feel the anxiety? Have you been in ministry for a couple of years and already used your best stories? Youth pastors often feel the pressure to tell stories that are equal parts hilarious and relevant. We have all been at that retreat or conference where the speaker that will only ever interact with our students once gets up and tells a story that kills and also paints a poignant picture of Jesus. But here’s the thing, I’m not talking about those stories. I’m talking about the stories that have been passed onto all of us in the Scriptures. It’s amazing how many youth ministries see their task as doctrinal download. Don’t tell your students what grace is, show them. Jesus embodies and enacts grace, the things he does and says are the essence of grace. Bring your students back to those stories. Help them to locate their lives within the story of Jesus. The Bible is amazing, mysterious, perplexing, and breath-taking. Don’t turn your gatherings into lectures, help your students encounter Jesus.

3. Students Are Not The Future, They Are The Present.

Like in those zombie movies where the heroes are able to finally shut the door on the hordes of brain-eating monsters, many churches group all their teenagers in one place, shut the door, and run away. But what if teenagers were invited to actually do ministry, not in the future, but right now? What if they led worship, served communion, greeted people at the doors? When we involve students in the life of the church during their formative years they don’t run into the dissonance of trying to integrate into “adult” church when they are older.

4. You Won’t Connect With Every Student. Don’t Try.

This is not about the value you place on every student you have the privilege to pastor. This is about what it means to be a finite human being. No matter the size of your group, you simply don’t share interests, similar experiences, or even a basic understanding with every student in your midst. And God never asked you to try. What God has asked of you is to create an environment where young people are cared for and nurtured to grow in their faith. You’re going to need help. Find and empower people to minister to your students. If you are the focal point of every aspect of your ministry, you are bottlenecking the growth of those you serve.

5. Words Create Worlds.

Every day your students walk in worlds where they are competing for attention, for meaning, and affirmation. Don’t make them fight for it within the confines of your ministry. Make it a regular practice to verbally encourage individuals. Pray for them so you can point them towards the things that God is doing in their lives. Beyond this, have regular rhythms throughout the year where you publicly affirm, encourage, and speak life into your students. Be thoughtful, be effusive, be prophetic. Your words, well-thought out and proclaimed in front of the group become seeds that are certain to produce a harvest.

 

Look for part two tomorrow.

“If the foundations are destroyed what can the righteous do?” (v. 3).

David’s world is tearing at the seams.  The fabric of polite society, the ethos that upholds a peaceful and civil society has eroded. People are cruel and bombastic, without regard for human decency. Everywhere he looks there is more violence.  Snipers load their weapons and shoot indiscriminately into crowds of the innocent (v. 2).  David’s world sounds like hell.  What’s worse, David’s world sounds a lot like our own world a lot of the time.  And the temptation for David is no different than so many of us undoubtedly feel:  with all the darkness in the world should we just run and hide (v. 1)

Its unclear to me whether our own world is more saturated with fear, violence, and evil than ages prior but what I do know is that those of us in the western world who have smart phones in our pockets or computers in our house are more inundated with these images than ever before.  So how are we to respond when our eyes are constantly confronted with suffering and wickedness?  Surely we would rather just ignore it altogether.  Often we try to numb ourselves to the pain of our world by inundating ourselves with entertainment or mindless scrolling.  This is a form of flight.  But look again at what David says in v. 1:

1 In the LORD I take refuge; how can you say to me, “Flee like a bird to the mountains;

David is asking, “How can I run and hide when the Lord is my refuge?”  David is saying that his only recourse in this world of wickedness is to take refuge in the Lord.  He goes on to describe the certainty that the Lord will make it right, he will enact justice.  He chooses to stand and fight but not with his hands, but to entrust himself to God.  He implores God to act with urgency.  He prays.  Prayer is the battleground, the theater of the battle between good and evil and the Lord is inviting us into the fight.

For meditation:
What are your responses to injustice?
What would it look like to pray for God to act in these spaces?
How does this psalm instruct us to engage the news in our world?

“All their thoughts are, ‘There is no God.'”  This is the psalmist’s diagnosis of the most successful people in his world—a powerful group collectively called “the wicked”.  Hidden within this observation is a question:  “God, are you watching this?”  The psalmist continues, “Their ways prosper at all times; your judgments are on high, out of their sight; as for their foes…”  In other words, the psalmist is suggesting that something is getting lost in translation between the heavenly judgments of God and the facts on the ground.  It seems that the one’s who are getting ahead in our world those who are willing to climb on the backs of others.  The rich get richer at the expense of the poor and they think to themselves, “God has forgotten, he has hidden his face, he will never see it” (v. 11).

It is always tempting to take things at face value.  In our world, no different than the psalmists, it just seems like the good girls and guys can’t win.  But the psalmist counters the observations of his eyes with his expectant hope that God does in fact see the things that take place on the earth.  He sees and he cares deeply (v. 14).   And beyond that, he is able to judge rightly and bring about true justice.  The psalmist implores him to do so:

Break the arm of the wicked and evildoers; seek out their wickedness until you find none.

David asks the Lord to act and to disable those who oppressing their neighbors.  But at the close of this psalm, this is his only request.  Surrounding this imploring of God to act is theology.  Look at what he says in v. 14:

But you do see! Indeed you note trouble and grief, that you may take it into your hands; the helpless commit themselves to you; you have been the helper of the orphan.

And again in vv. 16-18:

The LORD is king forever and ever; the nations shall perish from his land.   Psa. 10:17    O LORD, you will hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear 18 to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.

Even though everything David sees would tell him, echoing Longfellow, “that hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men,” his faith tells him otherwise.  In order to combat injustice, we not only need righteous indignation we need deep theological reflection and prayer.  The psalms invite us to the intersection of this sort of rich theology and bold, unflinching prayer.  Jesus, in announcing the “Kingdom has come near” declares that through his power and life, that the justice of God is no longer a pipe dream but that the judgments of heaven have come to earth at last.

 

In Psalm 9, the tone has changed but the circumstances really have not.  David opens with the lines:  I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.  I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.  But even though, David expresses a heart that is eager to praise the Lord, it is clear from the rest of the psalm that all in his life is not well:

Be gracious to me, O LORD. See what I suffer from those who hate me…

There is no shortage of danger in Psalm 9 but the lens through which David looks at everything is a lens of gratitude, hope, and faith.  He does not simply will himself to this place of expectant fidelity but recounts the past when God had rescued him.  David in the midst of anxious present can look to both the past and the future with clear eyes.  He sees that God has indeed rescued him in times of trouble and he is thus confident that he will do it again.

He declares in the assembly:  The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. 10 And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek you.

This is the confidence that comes from a long obedience in the same direction.  David can speak as one who has put their trust in the Lord, sought him, and he has found himself not forsaken.  We see this cycle in Scripture, often its when the most dire, hopeless of circumstances strike that the people turn again to the Lord.  The pendulum swings from a sleepy complacency which usually results in idolatry and judgment to a desperate plea for God’s intervention.  But Psalm 9 shows us a different rhythm.

What would it look like to seek God so fervently that your circumstances would almost become ancillary?  Or another way we could ask the question, what would it look like to be so alive to God in our daily lives that even in the face of certain death, we would still find faith and hope in his life?  I want to be alive to God in the daily moments of the ordinary days because I know that the trouble finds us all.  David, here in the bleakest of circumstances, can express such unwavering trust in the Lord because he has expressed that same trust on the bright, sunny days.  I don’t know where you find yourself today but perhaps God is inviting you to just acknowledge that he exists, to have your day interrupted and shaped by the beauty of his presence.  When we seek him in the sunlight, we can stand confidently against the black of night, knowing the dawn is coming.  He is faithful.

Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger (v.2)

Psalm 8 is all about power.  The word translated “bulwark” simply means strength or might.  But notice where the Lord’s strength is on display, not in deeds of mighty kings, or by the wealth of the rich, but in the cries of infants.  These cries testify to the power of the Lord so greatly that the enemy is silenced.  The psalmist goes on, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; 4 what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”  David is in awe of the Lord’s mighty strength, the world “charged with the glory of God” in the stars that light the night.  He asks the question that so many agnostics have understandably asked for centuries:  “If there’s a god that made the entire universe with all its vastness, why would he concern himself with humanity?”  Again, David displays this imbalance of power:  the Creator God, maker of Heaven and Earth, and women and men, each one who’s days on the earth are “but a breath” (Ps. 103).

This whole psalm is subverting our own expectations of power dynamics.  God’s praise in the mouths of babies is strong enough to vanquish armies, the maker of the whole cosmos has numbered both the stars in the sky and the hairs on the heads of his children.  And its here that David appeals to the origin stories of his people.  You see, the people of Israel are not only daring enough to assert that there is one God who made heaven and earth, but also that this God has shared his rule and reign with humanity.  The psalmist declares:

Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor. 6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet,  all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas (vv. 6-8).  

David asserts the royalty of women and men made in God’s image and then lists the creatures whom they reign over in the opposite order we find in Genesis 1:24-26 (land animals>birds>fish).  To be made in the image of God is to share in the rule of God.  We should look at the world in awestruck wonder and in the same way marvel at the tasks that God invites us to know him in.  Whereas many of the previous psalms have been about rest, this psalm is about work.  This is not a celebration of power for power’s sake but a recognition that we are called to wield our power in a way that brings life to the world.  The work of God informs our own work and makes it a way that we can know him. The work that we engage in every day is done recognizing that everything has been put under our feet.  Our work is a way that we can know God and thus it is holy ground.  We both remove our shoes in awe and wonder at the works of the Lord and put on our boots marveling that we get to participate with him in the redemption of all things.

For meditation:
What would it look like for your everyday work to declare:  O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!