Wednesday, November 14, 2012

This is The Voice

I've always had a special penchant for King David.  As my friend, Vincent, would say, "He's the bomb-dot-com."  I know he had an affair and all, but this hasn't deterred me.  Truthfully, the fact that he was a sinner and was still the chosen one of his time is probably why I like him all the more.  I guess it makes me feel like there's still hope for me.

But the real reason I've always loved David is his gift of the Psalms.
Anything that is musical or communicates in poetic form, Biblically speaking, is for me.  Actually, I think given the right circumstances, I could have been quite the psalmist myself...
You know, throw a giant...
A war and my own armies...
A bunch of persecutors...
An anointment and appointment by God to rule a country...
Throw all that my way, and I think I could have come up with some pretty awesome material.
I'm just sayin'....

But I digress. 
I was reading one of the Psalms a few days ago and my consciousness was struck, I'm sure, because the content was fixed on the Lord's voice. 
The voice, with all its' miraculous workings and abilities, has forever been my passion.
So this passage moved me greatly.

Psalm 29:3-9
The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
the glory of God thunders,
the Lord over the mighty waters.
The voice of the Lord is power;
the voice of the Lord is splendor.
The voice of the Lord cracks the cedar;
the Lord splinters the cedars of Lebanon...
The voice of the Lord strikes with fiery flame;
the voice of the Lord rocks the desert;
the Lord rocks the desert at Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord twists the oaks and strips the forests bare.
All His palace say, "Glory!"

I could clearly see in my mind's eye
the thunder...
the power...
the splendor...
the fire...
the quakes...
the response of nature to the Lord's voice.
So powerful is it that it can move mountains.

Yet, I was concurrently struck by sadness as I realized the number of times the Lord was shouting down to me only to be ignored.
The number of times the Lord was singing me lullabies of His peace only to be drowned out by my own useless musical cacophonies.
The number of times the Lord's voice whispered to me in the quiet of my mind only to be knocked aside by the siren song of the devil wafting out to me from the Halloween candy jar.

This is not what I want.
I want the thunder...
the power...
the splendor...
the fire...
I want the voice of the Lord to twist me like that oak and strip me bare of all pretense and pride.

I want the glory of the Lord's voice, in all of its beauty and majesty penetrating me to the very core, so deep and so sure that I cannot turn away from it during the day.
And at night, as I drift off, I want to sleep to the lullaby of my Lord, my Saviour, my precious God on high.

 


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