Saturday, October 16, 2010

Psalm 88

I have been reading the Book of Psalms for about, 88 days now.  Every couple of days I come across a Psalm that, I think, could easily be my favorite one; every couple of days, I find another.  Psalm 88 is no exception, but for the fact that, as far as I can tell, it is like no other.  Just read it.

This is a song, Folks -- a song.  Personally, I've never read any song in the Bible that remotely resembles Staind, but this is probably as close as it gets.  During my "darker days," I was a huge fan -- Staind is sexy fueled by angry and depressed.  My favorite group since my teens has been Pink Floyd -- more neurotic than sexy, but always depression resulting in rage.  I identify -- to a point.  That point is where the only solution is rage, violence, hatred, or simply more depression.  My faith refuses (Thank God!) to allow there are no solutions.

Psalm 88 is unlike any other in that there appears to be no solutions, no end to the despair.  Other Psalms, for instance, cry out to God for redemption, mercy, His loving forgiveness; before the Psalm is over, the author is rejoicing in the assurance God is near, He will save, and all is well.  While these songs and ruminations may be uplifting in the short-term, what about those who feel untold despair?  What about those who are living with pain and depression every day, hour after hour?  What about those who really do have no way to change their circumstances, or no one to advocate their release?  With no disrespect, do you think ten verses later they're whistling "Victory is Mine?"  Sometimes despair is a season.  Sometimes loneliness is a pit.  Sometimes, ten verses later, our circumstances are no better than they were when we opened the Word, and our hearts are just as heavy.  We are human.  We worry, we fear, we grieve and we fail.  Then, as Christians, we worry, fear and grieve over our failings as Christians.  The questions and doubts we feel do not coincide with what we know to be true.  Why can't we just feel it?  I believe this Psalm is for us.

Just look at verse 1: "O Lord, the God who saves me..."  First of all, would this psalmist be speaking to or writing to a God he doesn't believe would listen?  Secondly, the psalmist says "the God who saves me."  Not "saved," past tense, as in the one who redeemed him at some point, but saves -- present tense, and implying timelessness.  He knows God is there; I believe he even knows God will eventually rescue him, but for right now... this is how he feels.

Verse 5:  "I am... like the slain who lie in the grave."  Not dead -- feeling like it, maybe even wishing it perhaps, but not dead.

Verses 9 & 13:  Still, "I call to you, O Lord, every day."  "I cry to you for help, O Lord."  Why, if he has no faith?  Why, if he truly believes God has abandoned him?  Why, if God will not save?

Lastly, the psalmist himself:  Does anyone get that his name is Heman? From what I gather, Heman means "faithful."  I don't see this as being lost on him at all.  I see pleas cried out and tears shed by a lonely, desperate, but faithful individual.  Pleas and tears recorded by a loving, faithful God, just for me, a sometimes lonely, desperate, but faithful individual.  Commiseration through the ages.  Assurance that others have been where I've been, felt what I've felt, expressed it without fear of reprisal, and remained faithful, even when it lasted for a season. 

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Thank God I'm a City Girl

I am a country girl and a loner.  If I had my druthers, we'd be living on acres of land, raising livestock and reading books, devoid of any and all human interaction beside what was absolutely necessary, and considering a bigger place the minute we saw traces of smoke from the neighboring ranch's fireplace.  I don't like concrete, traffic, noise, light pollution or the smell of steam from a hot dog vending cart.  I like grass stains on my butt, rich black soil under my nails, driving 30 minutes on winding country roads to get to a grocery store -- the grocery store, and the "woody" smell of horse manure.  That being said, God is good.

As it stands now, from my bedroom window I can see at least six houses without really trying.  The brick and concrete that makes up our home smells musty and pungent with the humidity, and I can usually tell who is barbecuing, who is cooking greens and who is having Italian by the direction of the breeze.  The neighbors who aren't double-parking are parking over our drive; those who aren't screaming to their boys down the street are blasting Notorious B.I.G. until my ears bleed.  If the kids aren't dropping their trash on our front steps as they walk home from school, they're standing in the middle of the street defying you to hit them, as you drive to one of the six convenience stores in the area because you don't feel like going "all that way" (2 miles) to any one of the five grocery stores .  That being said, God is good.

Just last week a fire devastated apartments in South Philadelphia.  From what I've heard, 14 families were displaced; nothing was left.  Saturday a drive was held at 2nd & Jackson for the victims of the fire -- donations of cash, gift cards, clothing, electronics, toiletries, food and toys for the families that were left with nothing more than the clothing on their backs.  One of the victims was present --a young man who jumped from the building, was hospitalized, and was driven to the event by a hospital worker yesterday.

Scott and the girls and I arrived about an hour after the drive had begun, our little bags seeming so inconsequential to us.  As we neared the park and saw the flurry of activity, the columns of green plastic bags stacked against the chainlink fence, the friendly faces of neighbors and volunteers...  Well, it was moving.  Generosity had lit its lamp in the hearts of so many people.  A mail carrier stopped in the middle of the street to unload his bounty; not one person raged or steamed about the traffic and chaos.  People of all ages milled about, wanting to do so much more, to reach out to others in need, to stay here in this sphere of humanity rather than return to a world of of hate speech and petty gripes, dirty sidewalks and noise pollution.  Here on the playground it had all come together -- we could believe in one another, we could trust in the charity and kindness of others.  We were acutely aware, not just of the needs of others, but of ours as well.  Here, in the city I learned, once again, I am a part of something.            

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Dual Avicide via Uni-Lapidation (or Killing Two Birds with One Stone)

Wow!  I never thought it'd be almost a month between posts, but it's been crazy -- both bad-crazy and good-crazy!  I even joined a Christian writers' group in my area -- stoked on the idea of pursuing this writing career thing.  As usual, life interfered.  I haven't made one "meeting," and haven't been on the website more than twice since I joined.  My "Reading Journal" -- a list of all the books as I read them, some comments or residual emotions -- which I kept so faithfully, sits untouched in a "Documents" file somewhere.  It's just as well, I guess.  My reading has been reduced to doctor's office magazines and high school textbooks.  My "Personal Journal" receives an entry about once every six weeks, or so.  The irony of that is, that with so much stuff going on, now is the perfect time to be documenting it all!  Hence, this post.  If you will indulge me in my attempt to kill two birds with one stone...

A Grocery List:  Do they ever stop eating?! 

Open Windows: 47 degrees by night, and 72 degrees by day -- little to no humidity! This is the weather that summons us to fall festivals and local farms, South Street and parks, demanding we enjoy every passing moment of it, rather than attend meetings, dust, write in journals or read books!


A Sewing Box: Cooler weather, of course, brings the need for longer pants. Longer pants mean hems, particularly for those in the house with chunky little legs like me! At this point, two pairs of jeans still await; after that third trip to the mall I have to squeeze in at some point, there'll be a few more to lie in queue.


Therapy Bands:  Those colorful, stretchy bands that make it so easy to do the exercises prescribed by the physical therapist, and wind up staring at you from the eye hooks you asked your husband to screw in to every piece of 1x3 in the laundry room.

Vitamins: I hate taking them; I forget to take them. The results of my upcoming tests depend on them. My family depends on me to take them. I love my family, without a doubt, but I am sometimes afraid.

Legal Letters:  Reminders my oldest is still struggling, I miss him, I long for him and I fear for him.  Reminders that a chapter of my husband's life is nearing its end, a new one is about to begin, and I am scared.  Reminders that others need my help even when I am sick or tired,  when I don't have all the answers, or I am afraid of the answers.

My Office:  Bills to be paid, words to be written, lessons to be taught and planned, cleaning to be done, and a husband who loves me enough to give me my own place to do so!  I read my Bible here, I pray here, and I grow closer to my Savior and those who love me, here.  It is here, in the presence of my God my fears are relieved. I am blessed!