by Tom Kaeser, Board of Deacons
Psalm 102 is another in the series of seven penitential psalms that are traditionally read and prayed during Lent. My Bible footnotes say that the prayer of the unnamed Psalmist is “a prayer of an afflicted man,” one who “is faint and pours out his lament before the Lord,” but it is not entirely clear whether his afflictions are a consequence of his sins, his enemies (presumably the Babylonians), or his own personal struggles and problems. Personally, I have a hard time considering myself “afflicted” by my life circumstances or any enemies (real or imaginary), since I have been abundantly blessed in so many ways, with a good career, home, health, and family. There are many people in our community with real problems — with joblessness, poor health, and broken relationships. What do I really have to complain about or lament? “O, woe unto me, my latte is lukewarm and I’m stuck in traffic”? Please.
My dictionary says penitent means “feeling or expressing remorse for misdeeds.” That sums it up for me when it comes to the penitential psalms. It’s not my circumstances, minor struggles, or enemies, but my sins that I need to lament. As Pastor Ray noted this past Sunday, I need to realize that while I may not sin in the fashion of David with Bathsheba or against Uriah, I am nevertheless a sinner who has turned against God’s ways in my heart and in my actions. I need to spend time repenting those sins, and just as much time giving thanks for all God has given me, and that He has forgiven my sins through the death of Jesus on the cross.
But what other lesson does Psalm 102 have for a Deacon (or anyone else) at First Pres? The Psalmist recognizes that the Lord “will arise and have compassion,” and “will respond to the prayer of the destitute, he will not despise their plea,” and will “hear the groans of the prisoners and release those condemned to death.” But do we just leave it up to the Lord? Doesn’t the Lord also call on us to serve as His hands and heart, and help to comfort those who cry out to Him in their affliction? As James writes, “Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him ‘Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” Elsewhere, in Matthew, Jesus says “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” – that we are doing this for Him whenever we do this “for the least of these brothers of mine.” What a privilege for all and any of us to have the opportunity to serve in ministries like Souper Saturday, Fellowship Hour, Clothes Closet, Friends in Christ, Angel Tree, or Prison Ministry.
Last Friday, my wife and I had a God-given lesson in affliction. While returning from a concert downtown, I saw a blind man with a service dog approach the platform at Union Station, along with his wife, who was in a wheelchair, while a Metra conductor pulled their large suitcase and directed them to the right train. When the man announced he was headed for the station in our neighborhood, I confess that I had a “lukewarm latte” moment when I realized that it would delay me a couple of minutes while they operated the wheelchair lift on our arrival at the station.
When we got there, the couple disembarked, and then paused for a short time to figure out where to go next. Something told us not to leave. My wife asked them if there was anything we could do to help. The man said he needed to get his wife, their suitcase, and his dog to a nearby intersection where a Pace paratransit van would pick them up. But the van wasn’t due for 40 minutes, so we guided them to a partially enclosed shelter where some infrared heaters might (barely) offset the 30-degree weather. They were wearing light jackets, no gloves or hats. His cell phone went dead after two calls to Pace to see if their ride might arrive early. They didn’t complain, even though the van was another 30 minutes late. As we all waited, we talked some, and my wife and I got to know their dog, Fenway, and learned that they sometimes attended a church in our neighborhood. Frankly, we didn’t do much for them, other than keep them company, and make a couple of calls to Pace. It took us about an hour after we got home to stop shivering. But the experience of Grace can be chilling in many different ways.
As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of comfort, who comforts us in all our afflictions, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
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