Oasis

From the time I was 13 years old, Psalm 119 has been an oasis for my soul. I remember the first time I read it: riding in our family van on a weekend roadtrip, my large-print child's Bible spread out on my lap. 

I couldn't believe how much the person who was writing the psalm loved the words of God. I didn't know you could love the words of God like that. But the psalmist showed me that you could. And through the work of the Spirit, the psalmist's love for God and His Word ignited mine, and I began to love the Bible and devote myself to it. I memorized Psalm 119 a few months later.

In the years since then, Psalm 119 has never been far from my heart. It's one of my most listened-to tracks in my playlist. I've turned to it when I'm full of delight in God and looking for words to express my gladness and worship. I've spread it open before God when I'm mute with weariness or grief and needed words for my mourning. I've dragged my soul to its pages kicking and screaming in rebellion, dry and cracked with thirst, shell-shocked from the fight with sin, and sullen with indifference. And I have found life in its words. 

Tonight was no different. My soul was dull, spent from a full day of people and half a dozen to-dos still tugging at me. But when I walked in the door of my house, I felt the inexorable pull of Psalm 119. Life. Water. Repentance. Hope. Communion. Petition. Longing. The words of life beckoned. 

God invited me to come drink.

Notebook paper, pencil, open Bible.

Oasis.

And slowly my soul revived.

Sandra McCracken has an album on the Psalms, and her Psalm 119 song is titled "Flourishing." My good friend Sallie shared the song with me about three weeks ago, and I've listened to it nearly every day since then. I hope you'll listen to it...and that you'll go spread your roots into oasis of Psalm 119 and be filled with its life-giving water. 

P.S. More to come on the topic of "flourishing."

The Far Kingdom

Gusting winds roll the maple leaves, flashing their silver undersides. Sunlight and shadows play in the blue-skyed afternoon, and the birds chirp out their pleasure at the whole scene. 

I sit in the car, treasuring the few minutes of solitude, wishing to talk to God, yet quivering with that inside exhaustion that makes it difficult to do more than just stare. These days of battle blur together; they live heavily yet pass quickly, leaving the past hidden under a dust-cloud while a deep fog hangs over future. The war can be relentless; the days grueling. And sometimes, in the middle of it all, the outcome feels murky and uncertain. Except for one thing. 

There is one thing that not even the battle-haze can completely obscure: the Far Kingdom. It is visible even here in the raging present. There are promises. There is a river. There is a city of God. There is a King, and there is a Kingdom. And though everything else crumbles around us, we as believers have received a Kingdom that cannot be shaken (Heb. 12). The promises of God cannot fail. God cannot lie. So here in my car, in the middle of the battle, with all its noise, danger, and exhaustion, I will pause to look up for a glimpse of the King and the Kingdom. I will remember that I have been given two solid realities: today and the Final Day: a Now and a Forever. Everything that lies between these two realities must be taken in by faith. 

O God, give me courage to live today. Help me to look up, to see the Far Kingdom, to ride into battle with the joy of faith, to believe that every sword-stroke leaves its mark, that every wound works a weight of glory, and that nothing will be wasted. In Your love, grant me this grace as You have promised.

(I would be remiss and less than generous if I didn't share this jewel of a song with you: Far Kingdom. It has helped me for many weeks now. Click the link. Listen to it. And while you are at it, also listen to Shadows of the Dawn by the same artist, The Gray Havens.)