Psalm 27 and the "One Thing" We Need at Three in the Morning

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One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.
Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Psalm 27:4-6, NIV

Our dawn sky today

What is your “one thing?” If the Lord told you, as He did Solomon, that he would give you any one thing you asked, what one thing would you seek? Health, family, financial security? Success, influence, popularity? Wisdom, advanced degrees, expertise? Marriage, children, reconciliation, forgiveness?

In Psalm 27:4 and elsewhere, David—the man after God’s own heart—says that his “one thing” is to dwell with God, to behold Him face to face.

This is the third essay in our series reflecting on Psalm 27. In this psalm, God through David has given us a prayer-song for when we are afraid of the dark: whatever kind of dark, literal darkness or emotional and spiritual darkness. David seeks shelter in God’s personal presence with confidence borne out of His past rescues, and so can we. In the first post, we considered the themes and structure of the prayer as a whole. In the second post, we reflected on the first section of three verses. In that first section (27:1-3), David describes his experience of God’s saving defense. In this post we are looking at the second section (vv. 4-6), in which David expresses his expectant desire for God’s sheltering presence.

In David’s time, the tabernacle had already passed into cultural memory. Only the ark of the covenant, which was the gold-covered chest holding the tablets of the law God gave to Moses, remained. It had been captured by the Philistines before David’s time but was returned in David's lifetime to Jerusalem, God’s chosen city for the Hebrews to worship Him. It was housed in a tent, but not the beautiful, God-designed tent of meeting from Moses’ time. The temple, however, had not yet been built. David lived between the tabernacle of the past and the temple yet to come.

David desperately wanted to build a glorious house for the ark representing God’s presence; it would be the one designated place for ritual sacrifices to occur. When he told his desire, however, the Lord told him that David was not to build Him a house, but instead, God would build David a house. A dynastic house. And David’s son Solomon would in fact be the one to build a house for the worship of Yahweh, the God of Israel. We call this promise the Davidic covenant; in it, God promised that David’s descendants would be the rightful rulers of Israel. (This conversation can be read in 2 Samuel 7.)

Since David could not do what he wanted, he did what he could. He dedicated the spoils of his battles to the splendor of the temple to come.  Moreover, David told Solomon in 1 Chronicles 28:19 that the plans he was giving his son had been revealed to David by God Himself. To some extent, in some spiritual sense, David glimpsed what the temple would be, though it was not build during his lifetime. He even wrote a prayer-song for its dedication, as the epigraph of Psalm 30 notes.

In the above verses from Psalm 27, David freely uses a variety of terms for God’s dwelling: house of the Lord, temple, dwelling, shelter, and sacred tent (or tabernacle). The common connection among them all is the God who dwells there. More than anything in the world—and  David had wealth, power, influence, celebrity, and success—David wanted to dwell with God. In God’s presence, he finds beauty, shelter, victory, worship, and joy.

With Him, every wilderness was a castle, a paradise; without Him, every castle was a wilderness.

The New Testament reveals that Jesus is the true tabernacle and temple (John 1:14; 4:21-24; Hebrews 8:1-2, 5; 9:8, 11, 21, 23-28; 10:19-25). Jesus is for all time the presence of God in human flesh. He is the dwelling place of God.

Revelation indicates that all the tabernacles and temples of the past pointed forward to the new creation on the way to us, when the dwelling of God will be with men in the fullest possible way: “And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, ‘Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He shall dwell [tabernacle] among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be among them, and He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes,; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passe away’” (Revelation 21:3-4, NASB1995). In that age there will be no more temple, “for the Lord God, the Almighty, and the Lamb, are its temple” (Rev. 21:22, NASB 1995).

Do you remember from the first essay in this series that I said, when I am afraid of the dark, when I am in a three-o’clock season of the soul, the two things I want most are a light and a person. Last time we focused on the light God gives. This time David points our attention back to a person, the person of the Triune God.

David’s “one thing” to dwell in God’s presence and gaze on His loveliness is the birthright of all who have been born again into God’s family by grace through faith. John’s gospel, in particular, emphasizes that the believer dwells or abides in God, and God abides in Him. We who believe in Jesus are never separated from God’s presence. He is nearer than our next breath. He is intimately acquainted with all our ways. He never leaves us alone in the darkness, and the darkness is not even dark to Him (Psalm 139).

He is not repelled by our sorrow, brokenness, and sin. No matter what we are going through right now, we are never “too much” for the Lord Jesus. In fact, the Puritan preacher Samuel Rutherford wrote from his imprisonment for the gospel, “There is no sweeter fellowship with Christ than to bring our wounds and our sores to him” (The Loveliness of Christ, Kindle location 130). The young Scottish pastor Robert Murray M’Cheyne advised, “Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely. Such infinite majesty, and yet such meekness and grace, and all for sinners, even the chief! Live much in the smiles of God. Bask in his beams” (Memoir and Remains of Robert Murray M’Cheyne, 293).

His love enlightens our darkness. His presence comforts our loneliness. Should we lose all lesser “one things” as Job did, should we even lose our earthly lives, we have enough and more in Christ Jesus. Any other thing we place on the throne of our lives will eventually disappoint, but Jesus never will. His love is better than health, wealth, power, or fame. His presence is better than family, earthly friendship, marriage, or children. “His love hath neither brim nor bottom. Go where ye will, your soul shall not sleep sound but in Christ’s bosom. I find that our wants qualify us for Christ” (Samuel Rutherford, The Loveliness of Christ, Kindle location 177).

Even when we feel our lives have hit rock-bottom, we have not found the bottom of His mercies, grace, love, and kindness. His love is deeper than our deepest needs and wounds. His love is stronger than whatever holds us in bondage. His love is greater than all we lack or lose.

Is this finding you in a season of darkness, beloved? Take your wants and your wounds to Jesus. Let His smile shine into your darkness. Lean into His presence by faith, if you cannot by feeling. If you can’t say with David that the Lord is your one thing, let’s ask together that it may be so.

Please pray with me.

“Grant, most sweet and loving Jesus, that I may seek my repose in You above every creature; above all health and beauty; above every honor and glory; every power and dignity; above all knowledge and cleverness, all riches and arts, all joy and gladness; above all things visible and invisible; and may I seek my repose in You above everything that is not You, my God. You alone are most beautiful and loving, You alone are most noble and glorious above all things. In You is every perfection that has been or ever will be. Therefore, whatever You give me besides Yourself, whatever You reveal to me concerning Yourself, and whatever You promise, is too small and insufficient if I do not see and fully enjoy You alone. For my heart cannot rest or be fully content until, rising above all gifts and every created thing, it rests in You” (Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ).

I ask these things in the name of Christ Jesus our light and our love. Amen.

Burden-Bearing God

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Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up;
God is our salvation. Selah"

Psalm 68:19 ESV

Burden-bearing God:

You hold us up when our shoulders bow and knees buckle

    under the heavy load of trials (and duties and blessings).

You hold us together when we are falling apart.

You hold us fast when we can't hold on.

You hold us in your impenetrable,

    unsnatchable,

    unalterable grasp of love and power.

You hold us with tungsten strength and maternal gentleness.

You hold us;

Grace us, Lord, with trust enough to rest in the refuge of Your hands,

In the name of Jesus,

Whose hands and heart and head

Were wounded for my transgressions

And crushed for my iniquities,

Amen.

Catalog of Fragile Beauties

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Male ruby-throated hummingbird at feeder in our back garden

Male ruby-throated hummingbird at feeder in our back garden

Female ruby-throated hummingbird at our feeder

A Lament for the Long Haul

This is one chronic patient's intercession for the tens of millions suffering with Long COVID, whether patients, families, or friends. I am humbled and grateful to make space for the stories of a few of these courageous people. If you live with ME/CFS, POTS, fibromyalgia, or autoimmune disease and see yourself in the following, may the Lord enfold you into the intercession as well. The doves mark section breaks, in the event reading this requires multiple sittings.Courage, dear hearts.

Listen to me pray these words over you

 

 

Good Shepherd of the sheep, 

Master of the great feast, 

Lord of the harvest, 

I worship You. 

 

Today I bring You my burden 

For those suffering over the long haul from the ravages of a pandemic virus. 

Their needs are many, too great for the strongest and most influential woman, 

Much less one such as I. 

 

All I can do is bear them on my heart to Your throne of grace. 

You have mercy and grace to help them in time of need. 

And You can sway the hearts of Your people to help carry the cross of disability. 

If You are willing, You can even heal. 

 

Lord, I bring You the mothers nurturing from the sofa; 

The artists whose creative vision is blurred by brain fog; 

The athletes bound to wheelchair and home; 

The scientists whose bright intellects have been dimmed and dulled; 

The physicians imprisoned in home or bed from infections in the line of duty; 

The millions slogging through hours of work to earn their bread, 

Who keep their illness secret for the security of their posts; 

The millions more unable to work at all, but refused disability assistance 

And struggling to meet basic survival needs; 

The children and young people whose promising futures vaporized 

When we, their elders, did not shield them from disease, disability, and death 

Borne like vapor on the air. 

 

I bring You the wife deciding between taking a shower and preparing a meal, 

Both in the same day exceeding her capacity. 

I bring You the mama fighting through Long COVID brain fog 

To care for her daughter, who received 

A dementia diagnosis at age 19, 

Dementia caused by COVID. 

I bring You the sufferers weary of research 

And demoralized by begging for validation, protection, 

A listening ear and the kindness of understanding. 

I bring You those traumatized by medical disbelief, dull ears, denial. 

 

 

 

 

I mourn these broken bodies and damaged futures. 

I lament our guilt, our culpability 

As a church and as a society. 

Our sins are many and grievous. 

We have not loved You with our whole hearts, 

Nor our neighbors as ourselves. 

I am heartily sorry for these our misdoings. 

Forgive us, Lord. Forgive me, Lord, 

For my failures to love these battered bodies and bruised souls well. 

They are persons clothed with the inherent dignity of Your image. 

We have not honored that humanity 

And treated their lives as sacred to You. 

 

Awaken Your church to true repentance— 

We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves— 

To relinquish excusing our wrongs 

And to love You by loving the least. 

What we do to the sick and in prison, 

We do to You, Lord Christ. 

Have mercy on us for the hardness of our hearts, 

O Savior of the pierced side. 

Lift our gaze from our own internecine quarrels 

To the ocean of desperate need all around us. 

Open our ears to the cries of the tens of millions 

Incarcerated and alienated by sick bodies and beds of suffering. 

 

 

 

 

Good Shepherd of the sheep, 

Gather the forlorn and forsaken sheep into Your arms; 

Carry them through the dark valley to the pace of Your pulse; 

Extrude Your undershepherds to guard, nourish, and abide with them. 

 

Master of the feast,  

Send forth Your servants to bear 

On stretchers the sick and disabled, 

Welcoming them to the gracious abundance of Your hospitality, 

Not dependent on performance, appearance, or productivity, 

But only on their need and willingness. 

 

Lord of the harvest, 

Raise up Your fellow workers 

To go forth weeping, 

Carrying the seed of Your Word, 

The seed of the gospel, 

The seed of promises and hope; 

Cultivating Your truth; 

Pouring out Your life-giving water 

In hope of a harvest of joy. 

 

 

 

Lord God Almighty, 

Raise up helpers to do for them what they cannot do; 

Raise up givers to bear the financial burden of those unable any longer to lift it for themselves; 

Raise up advocates to fight for and with them through the torturous disability and accommodation process; 

Raise up physicians, wise and patient, believing their witness of suffering and weakness, 

Curious, diligent, and dedicated to finding anodynes now and, one day, cures; 

Raise up teachers and tutors for the children who can only learn at home; 

Raise up servants willing to help them on their own terms, gladly stripping off pride and self-preferences to wash their feet; 

Raise up friends and comforters with listening, empathetic ears, 

Kind eyes, shared tears, ready to sit with Job on the ash heap in silence; 

Raise up prophets speaking forth words of life, forgiveness, hope, and peace; 

Raise up just leaders ready to act with integrity and humble service, 

Valuing moral duty above political expediency; 

Raise up pastors to instill courage in the downcast, 

To strengthen marriages to endure the furnace of chronic illness, 

To support grieving, anxious children who have lost their Before-COVID parent 

Though that loving heart still beats. 

 

Be all these things in Yourself, Lord: 

Helper, giver, advocate, 

Physician, teacher, servant, 

Friend, prophet, leader, pastor. 

You are these and more 

And can form us into Your likeness, 

To do after You what we see in You, 

To follow in Your steps. 

 

 

Look upon the multitude of sufferers with Long COVID, 

The patients and families, 

Who need all this practical aid, 

And also the care and cure of their souls. 

 

Who will You send, Lord? Who will go for You? 

Where are the churches who will search out these lost lambs? 

These invisible ones, like lepers, exiled outside the camp? 

Who will bend low in humble service, 

Be the hands and feet of Jesus to those who cannot respond in kind? 
Who will join the fellowship of the beautiful feet, 

Extending good news 

Of hope in Jesus, 

The enduring kingdom to come, the new bodies awaiting, 

A purpose in our suffering, 

All things cooperating for good for those who love You. 

The chronically ill will not, cannot, likely 

Fill coffers or pews, fold bulletins or chair committees. 

They cannot teach Sunday school or sing in choir. 

 

Yet lavishing love on the languishing 

Is lavishing love on Christ. 

 

Few of these vast needs can I meet, 

Hardly any, in fact, 

But a listening ear and loving heart, 

A will to believe their testimonies— 

These I can offer. 

I can seek to share the comfort You have given me in my own afflictions. 

It is a joy and privilege to learn from them 

As they look out their virtual windows 

Into mine, and we make eye contact: 

“You, too?” 

 

What are these bread crusts and sardines in the face of so many millions of needs? 

Yet here I am, Lord. Send me as You will. Use me as You will. If You will. 

Bless and multiply these crumbs for Your name’s sake. 

 

Good Shepherd of the sheep— 

Seek the lost and wounded and bear them up in Your strong arms. 

Master of the great feast— 

Summon and serve the sick and disabled, 

Made welcome under Your banner of abundant love. 

Lord of the harvest— 

Raise up faithful workers and send them into Your fields 

To labor diligently to gather in the fruit of Christ’s suffering. 

 

Your kingdom come, Father. 

Your will be done, 

For Your glorious name’s sake. 

Amen.