It’s a season for the Psalms. My heart quickly takes the language written by another David and cries them out to the Lord. Each line is filled and brimming with desperation. Each cry is echoed in hope. The shaky hands of that David and the wet eyes of that servant are not too hard to imagine.
These are shakes of joy and of desperation. David bounces back and forth. He is on His knees in fear and then on his toes with praise. He sheds hard tears of pain and then quickly wets the ground with tears of anticipation. This is life. The bounces and the hopping. We are feeble so we are always praying, “I believe. Help my unbelief!”. This is not a schizophrenic war cry but rather the state of the “now but not yet.”
So we cry with David. I cry with that David and I laugh with that David. I hope with that David and I kneel with that David. Tip toe laughter and knee worn weeping: it’s all from the Good Giver. So the Psalms make sense. They make sense to a people that wants to say AND not OR. We are “suffering yet always rejoicing”. We are the people of AND not OR. Love doesn’t say OR but says AND.
The cross kept on shouting AND.
And you, and you, and you, and you, and you.
Not OR you.
So we are people of AND. We are a people of the Psalms.
I hope to take Psalm 23 line by line next but for now… a toast:
To the Psalms, the prayers of David, the tears and joys that show us that we are a people of AND.