Psalms 104-106
There is so much reverence for God throughout Psalms 104–106.
Psalm 104 especially made me think about how intentionally God created everything. Nothing seems to exist without purpose. Springs gush into valleys and give water to the animals. The earth brings forth food. The moon marks the seasons. Even things that seem completely separate from one another are connected somehow, each creation depending on another creation, and all of it ultimately depending on God.
I don't know. There is something really assuring about reading all of that and remembering: my Father made this.
The same God who created something this enormous and intricate is the God I pray to. The God I depend on. The God who loves me. It almost makes me feel proud in a childlike way, like, yeah, that's my Father. Look what He made.
Then Psalms 105 and 106 turn toward Israel, and I think the reverence continues, just for a different reason.
Because Israel failed God over and over again.
They forgot what He had done for them. They tested Him. They complained. They disobeyed Him. They provoked Him to anger even after witnessing things I can't imagine witnessing and then somehow forgetting.
And still, God remained God.
He provided for them in the wilderness. He heard them when they cried out. He remembered His covenant. He disciplined them and became angry with their sin, but He was also merciful toward them again and again. They were not faithful to Him, but He remained faithful to who He is.
I think that's what struck me most today.
God's faithfulness isn't dependent on ours.
That doesn't mean our disobedience doesn't matter. Psalm 106 makes that very clear too. There were consequences.
One part that stood out to me was Israel's craving in the wilderness. They had already experienced God's provision, and still they wanted something else. They tested Him and insisted on what they wanted, and God gave them what they asked for.
That scares me a little, actually.
Because sometimes God's love doesn't look like forcing us to choose what He knows is better. He allows us to choose. Sometimes He even allows us to have the thing we insist we want and experience where it leads.
He doesn't want obedience that has to be dragged out of us. He wants us to love Him enough to choose Him.
And I think there is something uncomfortable about recognizing myself in Israel.
It's easy to read about them wandering in the wilderness and think, How could you possibly forget what God just did for you? How could they witness His provision, disobey Him, experience the consequences, cry out to Him, be rescued—and then eventually do it again?
But then Psalm 106 says something that made the entire thing feel much closer to home.
That one felt personal today.
Because I struggle with sin too, particularly lust.
I can resist it for a while and then eventually this thought sneaks in: I've been good. I haven't done it in a while. Just this once should be fine.
And I hate admitting that because, underneath it, I know what I'm doing.
I know God is merciful. I know His mercy is new every morning. I know I can ask Him for forgiveness.
And I don't want His mercy to become something I use as permission to sin.
I don't want to approach God thinking, You'll forgive me anyway.
So I prayed about it. I told Him I was sorry, but I also told Him the truth: I am having a hard time changing this through my own will. I need help.
And then I think again about Psalm 106.
Israel had failed Him.
Not once.
Again and again.
And He still looked upon their distress when He heard their cry.
That doesn't make me want to take advantage of His mercy. It makes me want to stop taking advantage of it.
Because if He is this patient with me, if He hears me even when I come to Him embarrassed about something I've already asked forgiveness for before, then I want that love to change me.
Maybe slowly. Maybe with failures along the way. But genuinely.
I don't want to keep returning to God simply because I know He will forgive me. I want to depend on Him so that, little by little, I don't keep returning to the same thing in the first place.
And I know I can't do that through willpower alone.
I need Him.
Maybe that's another thing Israel's story keeps showing me. They needed God for everything. Water. Food. Protection. Guidance. Deliverance. And somehow they would forget their dependence on Him until they were in distress again.
I don't want to wait until I'm in distress to remember how much I need God.
I used to read phrases like “His steadfast love” all the time without really feeling the weight of them.
Steadfast love.
Okay. God loves us. I knew that.
It feels different when you begin recognizing that steadfastness in your own life.
Not only when God blesses me or gives me something I prayed for. I'm talking about experiencing His mercy. His patience. Being convicted and brought back when I was perfectly capable of continuing down a worldly path. Coming to Him after failing and realizing He hasn't changed simply because I did.
That's what steadfast means to me differently now.
I moved. He didn't.
No person on earth could love me with the completely unmoving love God does.
And He chose me.
I could have kept going the way I was going. Instead, He loved me enough to bring me back to Him.
So I think today I understand the psalmist's gratitude a little more than I did before.
Not just:
Thank You, God, for the things You have given me.
But:
Thank You, God, for being who You are.
Thank You for Your patience with me. Thank You for not giving up on me when I am stubborn. Thank You for hearing me when I cry out to You, even when I'm crying about a mess I helped make.
You already know how much I struggle to become more Christlike. You know how many times I've told You that I'm trying and how difficult I find it.
But I am trying.
Please give me Your Holy Spirit to help me do what I cannot do by willpower alone. Teach me to obey You because I love You, not simply because I'm afraid of doing wrong. And when I fail, don't let Your mercy become an excuse for me to remain the same.
Let it become the reason I want to change.
Thank You for Your steadfast love.