I held my husband’s hand and prayed as we walked toward the hospital. My focus was on the tumor in his salivary gland, but I couldn’t help noticing the dozens of people also making their way through the parking lot, some in wheelchairs, others with canes or walkers. It felt like a stream, sweeping us all toward the healing we hoped for. God felt close.
We found ourselves sitting on the rock the psalmist describes, holding each other and holding onto God, whom we knew would be with each of us, no matter the end result. Thankfully the tumor was removed and the margins were clear.
Indeed, God had drawn us out of the miry bog, just as God had done so many times before—when a child was dangerously sick, when a dream died, when our loved ones didn’t pull through. Life seems to be the constant cycle of ups and downs the psalmist describes. We find ourselves in trouble, God pulls us out of the muck, and we think, “Whew, I’m glad that’s over.” We thank God and we tell people, and before we know it, we’re calling on God again.
How do we respond to God’s unfailing readiness to be with us, wherever we are? Not with offerings or sacrifices, according to today’s passage. No, we are asked to accept yet another gift: an open ear, to listen for God in the static of the world.
Can you hear God’s love song calling you? If you’re having trouble, join others in their muck. Tune out the world’s noisy siren songs and listen for God’s voice singing your name, inviting you close.
What can you do today to tune out the world’s noise and listen for God’s invitation to come close?
Dear Lord, thank you for being with us through all of our ups and downs. Help us love you more and think of you more—not just in the hard times, but in all times. Amen.