Weekly Sermon

"Finding Our Strength" Psalm 121

Geneva Presbyterian Church, June 6, 2004 Cabin John Park

The Reverend Anne Benefield

I lift up my eyes to the hills-from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; He will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and coming in from this time on and forevermore. Prayer: Lord God, our strength comes from you. Open our eyes that we might see your glory. Open our minds that we might rejoice in your power. Open our hearts that we might receive and share your love. Amen. For many people Psalm 121 is a favorite. I can't hear it without remembering my daughter Deborah's reaction when we traveled to the Appalachian Mountains in North Carolina. Although Deborah was ten years old when I adopted her, she had probably never traveled more than a few miles from her home in upstate South Carolina. As we drove up into the mountains, Deborah became quiet. I thought she had fallen asleep. I glanced over at her only to find tears streaming down her face. When I asked what was wrong, she said, "Oh, Mother, it is so beautiful. Is this where God lives?" I'm sure that God does live in the hills of North Carolina. I'm also sure that God lives in the ghettos of Calcutta. God lives in every place and situation. I misread this poem for most of my life. I read it to mean that my strength comes from the hills, which were made my God. That is not what the poem is saying. This poem was sung by pilgrims coming to Jerusalem. As they approached the city, they would look up because Jerusalem is on a hill. As they looked up they would ask, "Where does my strength come from?" The temple priests who met them would answer, "Your strength doesn't come from the hills or from Jerusalem. Your strength comes from God who made the hills…and the valleys, the lush lands and the arid deserts, all creation." Some theologians point to the rugged, craggy lands of Israel as signifying that God is eternally present in the most inhospitable places. One thing is for sure: God is with us in all the ups and downs of life. Last Sunday, I was honored to sit Shiva for Alan White's mother, Freda. The young rabbi who spoke was a scholar. He said a great many things, but I didn't have anything way to tae notes. There was one thing, though, that I remember. He said that life is a series of ups and downs. We want life to be kind of flat, but life is not meant to be flat. As the rabbi said, "An EKG shows you what life is supposed to be like…a good EKG has regular peaks and valleys. A bad EKG is flat. If your EKG is flat, you are dead." If our faith is flat, if we aren't moving forward with ups and downs, we are dead. God is in the movement from up to down, in and out, to good and bad. God is in it all. If God is everywhere why do we come every Sunday to church? I think we come for a chance to feel close to God through music, prayer, scriptures, laughter, tears, and the spoken Word. But the presence of God isn't restricted to the sanctuary of our church or any other house of worship. The Lord is with us no matter where we go - up, down, or around. Another of my favorite psalms reminds me that I am never separated from God. Psalm 139 reads: O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, And are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, And lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is so high that I cannot attain it. Where can I go from Your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, Even there your hand shall lead me, And your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, And the light around me become night," Even the darkness is not dark to you; The night is as bright as the day, For darkness is as light to you. For it was you who formed my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; That I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, Intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In Your book were written all the days that were formed for me, When none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them-they are more than the sand; I come to the end - I am still with you. God is not limited by our myopia. Whether or not we sense God's presence, God is with us. We are blessed to know God in the love of friends and families, the nurture of the church, and the communion of the Holy Spirit. We are also blessed to sense God's presence in God's good creation. A blind man was begging in a city park. Someone approached and asked him whether people were giving generously. The blind man shook a nearly empty tin. His visitor said to him, "Let me write something on your card." The blind man agreed. That evening the visitor returned, "Well, how were things today?" The blind man showed him a tin full of money and asked, "What on earth did you write on that card?" "Oh," said the other, "I merely wrote 'Today is a spring day, and I am blind.'" [Gabriel Daly, "Widening Horizons," The Tablet 244:7811 (31 March 1990), 419-20.]