This is a 'pre excommunication' work of Steve's, or possibly right after. He has written some essays on the Psalms, ones he imagined might one day become a book.
1
“We’re always beginners with God”, Karl Barth says. We are novices in the ways of God, even after years and years of walking along the path. In fact, sometimes it seems like every time we take a step forward, we are starting the journey all over again.
Our city has an immense botanical garden. I regularly spend hours strolling along the paths, sitting, praying. I just discovered a new secluded spot. I’ve been there 300 times and never seen it. It is a small circle which is ringed by curved, wooden benches (mine was dedicated to the memory of Shirley Bargainer Something.) There is rust-colored gravel on the ground, tinted by the local iron deposits. I love the sound of it crunching under my feet. Something wild has been knawing on several of the benches. I like to think it is a dangerous creature, but I suppose they don’t knaw on wood. They would knaw on bones. Large camellia bushes surround and encroach upon the circle (one called “Daydream”, and another “Fantasia”.) I can hear the wind in the pines, which is a distinctively southern sound. It is pleasant, enclosed, quiet. I can imagine never wanting to leave this small haven. It’s just that I know that it is only one of a hundred such spots in the garden. Just beyond the perimeter you can see that there is so much more- beautiful things. Wild things.
I picture life as if I’m standing in the center of a circle. If I stay in the center of it, I can see and enjoy what is right around me. I can feel sure about it too, about what I see there. I feel safe. But if I move away from the center, and reach out to touch its perimeter, the circle expands. Suddenly everything I had seen before has been changed by the enlarging circumference. More and more of what is real is exposed. I feel seasick. Disoriented. I would prefer to stay where everything is pleasant, comprehensible and controlled.
I believe that this is what the Apostle’s experienced in their life with Jesus. If you lay Paul’s letters out chronologically, you find an interesting shift in his self-awareness. It progresses like this over the course of his life: First, “I am an Apostle!” Then, “I am the least of the Apostles”, to “I am the least of all God’s people”, and finally, at the end of his life, “I am the chief of sinners.” It seems that each time he touched the perimeter of his own human frailty and sinfulness, it expanded out. It was worse than he thought. We are worse off than we think.
But Paul also told us that as he moved out into his own brokenness, the immensity of God’s mercy became clearer. The landscape of the love of God expanded as well. There is so much more! More than I could imagine!
Fear would always keep us from exploration, moving from the center. Exploration is disorienting, dangerous, vulnerable, and even lonely. There are wild things out there, things that would knaw on our bones! And if we had any sense, we would just stay where we are. But then there is this call- a call to this wild, other world, that keeps encroaching into this one. It is a world of love, mercy and truth, and somehow we know that we were made for it. Once you have felt that call in the depths of your being, it is very hard to ignore. It’s very hard to not begin to step out. This has been true for century upon century of the followers of Jesus. The Psalms have always been the explorer’s guidebook.
Psalm 1 is the orientation.
The first psalm begins with enticement. The first word seduces us. It encompasses what we desire in our deepest parts, whether we’ve been able to put a finger on it or not. “Blessed”. This is the person who is tasting fullness. I think this one word captures everything we are meant to be, hope to be, long to be…but are not. It is the opposite of disintegration. Wholeness, peace, meaning, well-being. What would it take for you to say “I’m flourishing”? Not in some blissfully ignorant way, but in a way that makes you see that you are being lifted out of all the broken pieces of your life. A deep seated sense that “All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” The call to the way of God is a call to blessedness. We are not told the exact shape that this will take, but it is the promise of the road.
But there are conditions. Everybody knows that only a fool would start on any dangerous trek without some sort of survey of the conditions. What is required of me? Two things: Shift your loyalty, and shift your posture. Here’s what I mean.
“His delight is in the Law of the Lord….” Followers of the way of God are called to be loyal to what is true, to what’s really there. In our western conception, we might think this simply means that we are to hold to certain “truths”, a set of facts or propositions. But that’s not big enough. I’ve been told that in the Hebrew mind, something is true if it can hold water. In other words, true things don’t collapse or give way. You can pressure a true thing, push against it, and it won’t fail or break.
“Like chaff…” An acquaintance of mine grew up in outside the States, and was deeply committed to the religion she was raised in. She was very devout. But at some point in her early twenties, she suddenly embraced Christianity. When she was asked why she converted, her answer was simple: the other ran out. She had tested her old loyalties, and they collapsed to the ground.
There is an underlying assumption in the Old and New Testament, and in all Christian theology, that the Living God is the Speaking God. The Living God is a self-revealer who wants us to know him and be linked to him. The Bible is God’s speech. The person on this path is asked to lean into God’s words. To live and even test what God has revealed about himself, about us, and about the world.
Another assumption is that a letter from a person is the equivalent of the presence of that person. The Apostle Paul assumed that when his letters were read to churches, it was as if he himself were in the room, and beyond that, that Christ was in the room. This is why Christians have held onto the archaic practice of preaching. Somehow, mysteriously, despite the preacher, Jesus is present in these words. There is no disconnect between the word of God and God himself. Even if he doesn’t tell us everything about himself, what he does reveal is true to who he is. To delight in his Law is to delight in him. Loyalty to his word is loyalty to him. He is present with us, linked to us through these words. You may not be interested in letting God go to the deepest parts of your being. I would understand that. But if you are, the Psalmist is saying, be loyal to his words. Listen to them. Press against them. They are big enough, deep enough for every part of who we are, and they won’t run out on us. The way of God is big enough for all of you and your ways.
The Psalm also contrasts two postures. The first possibility (and Psalm 2 describes this vividly) is to be “the man who walks in the counsel of the wicked, stands in the way of sinners, sits in the seat of scoffers”. The second is to be “like a tree”. There is a dramatic grammatical contrast here (well, it may not sound that dramatic, but I think it is). The first has action verbs: walk, stand, sit. The only verb associated with the second is “meditate”, which we wouldn’t consider very active. A contrast between active and passive. The call is to shift from an active posture of frenzy, fear, and self-protection, to a passive posture of receptivity, of rest and peace and trust.
There is a small winery in California that puts out two zinfandels called Sin Zin and Redemption Zin. They recommend on the label that you drink the former first, and the latter after. I suppose the assumption is that the Sin Zin sneaks up on you, and you pop the cork unexpectedly at 10:30 one morning and drink the thing down- it sort of catches you by surprise and takes you over. But then with the other you carefully plan out a moderate intake to make up for guzzling the other. That’s backwards. The psalmist is implying that we are very active in our sin. We plan it out. We plot it. We calculate. We control. We know exactly what we are doing. It’s the redemption of God that keeps taking us unawares and surprising us.
So we can choose out of fear to grasp and connive and control, or we can take the quiet posture of receiving (i.e. “like a tree”.) This is the sense of the word “meditate”, patient, open handed waiting and listening.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. Those who take this posture are waiting for God, receiving from God, and taking a patient, long haul approach to watching what God will do, knowing that in this posture, they will grow and prosper.
One of my favorite stories in the Bible illustrates this. It is the story of the two sisters, Mary and Martha. You find this Mary three times in the gospels, and in each case, she is at the feet of Jesus- learning, weeping, worshipping. In the first account, Mary is sitting before Jesus, and her sister Martha is mad and frustrated because she won’t come help with the dishes. Jesus rebukes Martha, not for her housework, but rather for her posture. She is anxious and worried. “You are worried and upset about many things.” Then he says that Mary has chosen a better way. She has chosen to be like a tree.
Now Mary gets mocked for this. Every time you see her, someone criticizes her. Choosing to be like a tree isn’t popular. It isn’t popular now. We’re not a “tree” culture- a passive, waiting people.
But what you see in Mary is that over time, her life becomes fruitful and radiant. I think Mary understood, better than any other disciple, what Jesus came to do. She had insight into the death and resurrection that no other disciple had during Jesus’ three years of ministry. Where did she get this? From being receptive, from listening to him. The story says that while many were baffled by Jesus and who he was, “those who came to see Mary put their faith in him”. The one’s who were around Mary began to see who Jesus was. She is living the conditions of Psalm 1 and prospering.
Sin seems right. Your whole being will go after it. It’s unavoidable. But what you’re being asked to believe here is that it will always give way. It is chaff. “Go ahead,” he says, “Push on it. Try it. It will collapse”. Sin is nothing. God is everything. Lean into him. This will be our way throughout the journey.