“But the Lord’s unfailing love
surrounds the man who trusts in him.” Psalm 32:10
Our preacher once said that the first words that famous chorus of angels offered to the quaking shepherds on the hills of Galilee are the entire scripture in a nutshell. “Fear not,” they said those miscreant star-gazers. And that is, in a way, the whole Word of the Lord to those who love him—“fear not.”
Those words are the heart and soul of this verse too, of course, as well as the answer to the first question of the catechism I was reared with. The question is, “What is your only comfort in life and in death?” And the answer is simple: “That I am not my own, but belong, in body and soul and in life and death, to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.” Same glorious idea.
“The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him,” says Psalm 32:10. Surrounds. When my grandson and I go to the park a couple of blocks from our house, he’s a terror. He’ll try anything. The only way for me to keep him from his getting something purple on his forehead is to stand beside him or around him or behind him, close enough so that at any moment I can save him from his own. . .his own what?—silliness, childishness, inexperience, innocence, stupidity? Maybe I should say, save him from being a child. Not unlike us.
That’s not exactly what the verse implies, perhaps, but it’s close. Try this—God’s love makes us all look like the Michelin Man. In our every moment, he outfits us with full-body rubber bumpers. Okay, maybe it’s not the best image. They’d get a little cumbersome, and tap dancing would be a problem.
How about this? When we trust him, we’re perfectly outfitted with airbags. That’s surrounded. But somehow it doesn’t quite ring true either—people get whacked by airbags.
The first time I put on our children’s DVD player and heard the sound of Tora, Tora, Tora—or whatever—through speakers mounted in every corner of the room, the soundtrack nearly took my breath away. I felt as if I was in the middle of the war. God’s love is like surround sound. It’s just all over.
We are cocooned by his favor, swaddled in his love. Whatever happens, we’re in his hands—always, forever.
Well, getting there maybe.
If you think I’m being a glib, you may be right. I’m sitting here smiling, but then I’m not sure that’s the wrong tone of voice. You may even call it childish, if you’d like, but the implication of this verse is soooooooooo good that it’s tough not to be a little flighty, a little dorky. It’s hard to write without a smile.
Let me get serious.
Two weeks ago, a woman told me a story of how, one night here on the prairie, her husband and young son were killed by a tornado that left her hospitalized on the edge of both death and despair. She told me that the only thing that got her through her travail was her repetition of the answer I quoted above: “I am not my own. I am not my own, but belong, body and soul, to my faithful savior Jesus Christ.. . .I am not my own.”
In life and in death, David says, fear not. The love of God surrounds you unfailingly.
Say it again and again, Michelin Man.
2 comments:
You bless us with writing words of wit and wisdom. Thanks!
This is very inspiring!
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