The Second Sunday
after the Epiphany, January 20, 2008
The Lessons of Psalm
40
The Rev. Robert B.
Wood, St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church, Alpharetta, Georgia
As I reflect on Psalm 40—about being
stuck in the desolate pit, the mire and the clay—I can think of many
places in my life where I have been stuck…and how I learned to get
out. Today, I guess I should think of a story of being stuck in the
snow, but what’s on my mind is a more vivid memory of being stuck in
the sand at Fripp Island.
Fripp Island is where I learned to
drive. Not in cars at first, but in golf carts. I already knew what
the sand did to bikes—that soft, white sand that would grab your tire,
spin the handle bars and throw you to the ground. Then I learned
what that soft sand did to heavier golf carts.
Now this was before my golfing days, so
the golf carts were meant for play all by themselves. My father would
take us to rent them, and then he’d drive us from the main road to a
quiet, safe back-road (usually paved), and let me or a friend take the
wheel. We’d been told at the rental counter to be careful—that these
carts had ended up in the marsh or in some of Fripp’s fresh water
lakes because the drivers were foolish. Since we were boys, that
warning made us all the more excited to see how fast we could make
that golf cart go. Which was not much.
The fun came when the road would go from
pavement to sort of a crushed rock & shell composite—and then there
might be that soft white sand—giving you a chance to spin out or
bringing you to a halt almost as quickly as it did for bikes. One or
two would have to get out and push the golf cart free—and the driver
learned to go easy on the gas as we pushed—or he’d just be “spinning
his wheels”—literally—and making a deeper whole.
Later, when I graduated to driving a car
at Fripp, there were even more back roads to discover—and more
tempting soft sand that challenged 16 year-old machismo. Of course,
friends and I would try to show off to the other by going through a
patch instead of backing up or going around it.
Once with my friend George, we got
really stuck. Tires spinning—one of us pushing and trying to put
rocks or branches in the ever-growing hole in hopes of creating some
traction. After 10 or 15 minutes and a deep hole and
the back bumper resting on the ground--we went for help. When they
arrived, we smart guys tied onto another car to pull us out. But all
we had was rope—which snapped in about 2 seconds. So our good
Samaritans went and brought a chain—which did the trick without
pulling anyone’s bumper off.
I never thought that story would be
sermon fodder. But it makes Psalm 40 all that more real to me. The
Psalmist prays:
1 I waited patiently upon the Lord;
*he stooped to me and heard my cry.
2 He lifted me out of the desolate
pit, out of the mire and clay; *
he set my feet upon a high cliff
and made my footing sure.
Sure footing—or at least a paved road.
And a little less foolishness. Maybe the Psalmist had been in trouble
too—taken a risk with some money, been seduced, gotten in over
his head at work, or simply mired in the world’s affairs so that God
had been forgotten. Later, he came to his senses…knew he could not
get out of that hole by himself—and he called to God for help.
But what of the times in life when it is
not foolishness that leads to getting stuck in the pit, clay, or
sand? What of the times that people get stuck even after safe habits
or the best intentions? I didn’t try to get arthritis or to get
depressed. I didn’t know parenting was going to take such a toll on
me. I had no idea that grief could take me over like this.
As true as all those situations are, the
Psalmist doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how you got stuck nor how the
hole was made—but he does hope you stop spinning your wheels and
trying to get out of the useless predicament all by yourself. His
advice: Ask for help and trust in God.
To ask for help. It took me and George
a while to ask for help when that car got stuck. We’re guys. It
always takes us a while to ask for help or directions. It’s also just
human. Zacchaeus didn’t ask for help. Remember him? He just climbed
up in a tree to see Jesus. But Jesus called out to him anyway. Grace
in action—or the understanding of Zacchaeus’ silent prayer, a yearning
of the heart—to know more about God.
The disciples whom John the Baptist
tells about Jesus didn’t really ask either. But something was going
on with them; they were searching, learning, hoping for solid ground.
John gives them just enough of a nudge to follow Jesus and ask,
“Teacher, where are you staying?” I guess I could translate that
(loosely): “Teacher, we’re stuck.” Jesus hears their cry and lifts
them up. Come with me, he says. Come and see.
For them, something had been sandy in
their pursuit of truth—and they’d been spinning their wheels.
Sound familiar? Help comes—but not with a magic wand, not with a
simple answer, and not without a gut check for those in need. “Come
and see.” Let’s get you out of that pit and on the pavement. But you
are going to have to move your feet a little too.
Come back to God and see. Yes,
spiritually speaking, maybe it’s we who leave the pavement in search
of off-road adventures that get us stuck in bad habits. A preacher
named William Sloan Coffin described that human pitfall this way: “The
pursuit of truth rightly implies that a gap exists between truth and
us. But what’s hidden and evasive? Is it we or truth? Maybe it is
we who evade truth’s quest for us.”
There’s the good news! The truth is
after you. God is searching for you, for a way to help you see
things his way. That help is like a chain—to ease you out of
stubbornness, sinfulness, and self-reliance. You might call that
chain forgiveness. You might call it grace. You might even call it
healing—because it aims to restore your connection with God.
That’s one of the reason’s we have a
healing service like today’s. It’s not just about physical healing or
emotional healing. It’s about spiritual healing—of getting you out of
the pit and setting your soul on solid ground and getting your feet
moving in God’s direction.
Healing is about getting you to a
place where you can join the Psalmist and say “Happy are they who
trust in the Lord! They do not resort to evil spirits or turn to
false gods.” Healing is the humble place where we plead like the
Psalmist to God: (12) You are the Lord; do not withhold your
compassion from me; *let your love and your faithfulness keep me safe
for ever.”
The moral of the story is, “Stop
spinning your wheels.” Seek God. Do not evade his quest for you.
Ask God for help, and be ready to move your feet. Before you know it,
you’ll likely be walking on solid ground.
© The Rev. Keith Oglesby. All Rights
reserved.
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