Brighter than the sun is the radiance of your people. Higher than the heavens is your children’s praise. Purer than a fresh snowfall is creation’s witness. Wiser than a PhD’s discourse, sillier than a toddler’s humor is your grace. More miraculous than the planets’ song is peace between your people.
Does the sun still shine?
[Hold on, let me go stand outside.]
Do the tides still sway?
[I’d have to put my toes in the ocean.]
Does joy still bubble in laughter?
[When’s the last time you told me a joke, God?]
Does Hercules still saunter on the horizon at night?
[Let me go diving for Leviathan while I’m at it.]
Do the robins still rise early?
[I try to ignore them.]
Am I not still God?
When you are anxious, is my power diminished?
[Of course not, LORD, only my faith.]
When your way is unclear, does that mean I too am lost?
[I can’t really speak for you, God, but probably not.]
So tell me again, does the sun still shine?
[You know it does, O LORD.]
on John 11:7-9
Happy are those who meditate on love.
Happy are those who meditate on love. (Psalm 1:2)
The heavens sing to the earth:
“The LORD is greatly to be praised.”
I’ll sing too.
The fields boast with joy:
“God is sovereign over the earth.”
I want to shout it too.
The winds twirl with the trees:
“The LORD is coming, coming, coming.”
Let me dance too.
The seas rush forward in greeting:
“Hooray! Hosanna! See the glorious One!’
I’m running to you too.
The rising sun tells it plainly:
“The LORD is faithful and forever.”
I want to testify too.
O God my God.
on Psalm 96
the “to do” list
the starling with its beautiful iridescence tapping at our window, seeking a shelter from the winter wind
the faraway line of white seagulls over the lake, dodging cold winter waves and then diving for their catch
the hand-carved ship ready to set sail from my Christmas tree branch where it hangs, eager for adventure
the short fat snowman rolled together on a bitterly cold day, because who can (or should) quell the determination of youth?
find us, most merciful God,
through the joys and the strains alike
with beauty so simple and good news so plain
that our heads are lifted and our tongues are loosened to sing.
on Psalm 27:5-6