Christian Counseling Service -- Devotions

How great thou art

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Psalm 130:1-6
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

It's early this Sunday morning. Last night's short sleep blurs my eyes, weighs down my forehead and shoulders. A March cardinal sings outside, and our furnace fan forces warm air through the night-cold house.

The day promises much - great music, strong singing, still prayer, warm and rich community, and most of all the Eucharist. In one way or another being part of a church has been part of my life since birth. Even when I called myself by some other name and wanted nothing to do with Sunday morning religion, I searched for meaning through filters defined by the very church I resisted.

Sunday mornings can be intense. If I'm lonely, I'll be much more lonely on Sunday. Marc left for his runaway-trip on Saturday night, and I'll never forget the Sunday-morning-after. I sat so miserably in the church pew, and every musical note, every emphasized word tore open my heart. I filled a handkerchief with tears.

But later that morning ... God broke me open and I understood something I'd never known so deep and personal. Reading Psalm 139 I suddenly saw how I mimicked God and simply refused to let him do his work with Marc. I thought I had to know where he was, what he was doing. But God did that already, and I didn't need to ...

If I say,
"Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

This silent Sunday morning is bitter-sweet for Bruce Weber, coach of the Illini basketball team. The Big 10 tournament games are played this year in Chicago, and his mom drove down from Milwaukee to watch. In line for her tickets at the game Friday, her chest tightened up. Bruce's wife took her to the hospital, and a few hours later she died. Bruce is left with sweet memories, grateful tears and a future without phone calls or hugs from the mother who loved him every day of his life.

I think of death this morning, and those thoughts seem immediately to morph into visions of life. My body is tired, but my spirit lifts me up. The Bible tells me over and over that I die only to live a new life. I wait for the Lord, yearning for him, and this Sunday morning he is with me.

Morning has broken, and I am made whole, Lord. Your presence heals every hole in my heart.

Devotions Archive

How great thou art

Sunday, March 13, 2005