Tim Eimer: meditations on "trouble" from Psalms 102, 103 and 91

Dear friends,
Despite my encouragement to you in my last email to "not let your hearts
be troubled," I have been troubled the past few mornings. I looked at my
youngest son, Torin, this morning and thought, "I'm never going to be
able to take him backpacking." I gazed at Conor, my eldest, and thought
about yesterday when I took him bike riding and played baseball and chess
with him, and I thought, "He will be crushed when I'm gone."
I sought refuge in the Psalms but felt overwhelmed like the Psalmist who
wrote Psalm 102. Like him, my heart is sick and whitered like grass (v.
4); I watch my days disappear like smoke (v. 3); I watch my life passing
as swiftly as the evening shadows (v. 11), and sadness fills me because
God is cutting me down in midlife and shortening my days (v. 23).
Then, I thought about getting gas for my car at WaWa yesterday. (WaWa is
a gas station here in the Northeast.) I live in Horsham, PA, which Money
Magazine has ranked the 15th best place to live in America, but you would
never know it by looking at the harried, troubled faces of the people
scurrying in and out of doors clutching their morning coffees and shaking
their heads in disgust at the price of gas. The enormity of their
hopeless expressions nearly broke my heart. I thought about the parents
at the bus stop who do nothing but complain and gossip and throw up their
hands in defeat. I thought about a fellow swim team parent, who has lived
his entire life in Horsham attending a Lutheran church, but when I asked
him what his church taught about salvation, he simply shook his head and
said, "I have no idea. I guess I wake up in the morning and I'm saved."
Watching these poor people labor cheerlessly through their lives in this
15th best place to live, I echo the sentiment of the main character from
that same Stephen Lawhead book I've been reading, "I fear death less than
empty, wasted life."
So prayed hard this morning and read more Psalms. I fought the battle
against fear and discouragement that I fight every morning. And again God
picked me up and dusted me off. As David did in Psalm 103, I tell myself
to praise the Lord (v. 1). I also tell myself never to forget the good
things he has done for me (v. 2). I remember that he forgives all my sins
(v. 3), heals all my diseases (v. 4), surrounds me with love and tender
mercies (v. 4), and fills my life with good things (v. 5).
Even as I write this letter, I am finding "rest in the shadow of the
Almighty" because I have chosen to "live in the shelter of the Most High"
(Psalm 91:1). Though I pray for their success, I am not trusting in the
upcoming medical treatments. Last time I checked, modern medicine has not
cured mortality. David and all the psalmists have been dead for 3,000
years, but God is still their fortress even today.
Like the Psalmist, I also must cry out, "God alone is my refuge, my place
of safety. He is my God, and I am trusting in him" (91:2). And like the
Psalmist, God will protect me from the fatal plague (v. 3). He will
shield me with his wings and shelter me with his feathers (v. 4). God's
faithful promises will be an armor of protection for me (v. 4), and I
will not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor the dangers of the
day nor the plague that stalks me in the darkness (v. 4-5).
I prayed for those people at WaWa. I see the sadness of their hearts on
their faces. They know deep inside that their days are disappearing like
smoke, and I dare say most of them know nothing of these comforting
promises God extends to them. I encourage you to hide these same promises
deep in your hearts that you may remain beneath God's sheltering wings on
that day of trouble coming in your future, but let us also pray for those
filling up their cars with gas. This world needs an ocean of grace, but
everyday, we can be springs of living water in this desert of gas
stations and food markets and soccer games.
God bless,
Tim