Sep 26, 2022
My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, O Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations (Psalm 102:11-12).
In New York City, in front of the RCA building on Fifth Avenue, stands a gigantic statue of a massively proportioned, magnificently muscled Atlas, the world resting on his shoulders. As powerfully built as he is, he is straining under the weight, barely able to stand.
Close by stands St. Patrick's Cathedral. Inside, behind the altar, is a little shrine to the boy Jesus. He appears to be no more than eight or nine years old. As little and as frail as he looks, he is holding the world in one hand, as if it were a tennis ball!
Here is the fundamental choice of life: either we live like Atlas, straining to carry the world, or we worship Jesus, who easily holds the world in one hand.
As Christians, we sometimes glibly tell people to choose, as if the choice is easy. When we do that we forget that Psalm 102 is part of our sacred text. In this Psalm, Israel's singer goes through a spiritual struggle to hold on to that choice.
This is not the Psalm for those who think religion ought to be easy or who believe that God's primary purpose is to make us happy. It's easy to fall into this trap, so let's not skate away too quickly without recognizing these tendencies in our own spiritual journeys.
This song is for those who find themselves buried under a load of misfortune and pain. Take a long time to read through verse 1-11; feel the pain and loneliness expressed here. Imagine the situations that would have caused the psalmist to write these laments.
Now pay attention to the opening of verse 12, "But you, O Lord, sit enthroned forever." This is astonishing! How can the psalmist be so confident of God's enthronement after such lamentation? Here is the faith that keeps us from getting buried under the misfortune of life.
Notice that it is not the past that this psalmist relies on; not God`s historic deeds. Rather, it is the present and future acts of God which give heart to this poet.
The psalmist has come to recognize that God is present with his people not to shield us from bad things, but he does unexplainably sustain us in all things. God does not prevent the tragic thing, the cruel thing, the unfair thing, from happening. Rather, He carries us along in the intimate depths of the tragic thing itself—and will continue to do so in every moment of our lives up to and through death, and beyond.
When this is difficult to believe, and during tragedy it is easy to doubt, Christians cling to the cross. This is part of its mystery. Jesus prayed to be delivered from it, but he was not spared. But God raised him from the dead. Jesus was not abandoned, not even in death.
We are invited to hear Paul’s prayer to be relieved of his ‘thorn in the flesh’. And even more, we are called to hear God’s response, “My grace is all you need. My power is strongest when you are weak” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
As you read the second half, notice the hints of Christmas this psalm contains. Not nicely decorated houses, elevator worthy Christmas carols or heaps of food and gifts but the Christmas of the Bible, the Christmas strains of redemption: God hearing the groans of the prisoners and releasing those condemned to death (20).
Peering into the future, the psalmist sees all nations gathering to bow before the Lord enthroned forever. The wise men's worship was only a foretaste of this. Christmas marks the beginning; Jesus' second coming will be its fulfilment. God will finish his work of redemption. The fall will be undone. Shalom will guide the nations. Trust him and let him hold your world. He is able.