For Mount Olive Bible Study on Wednesday, April 1, 2020 @ 7 PM
Meeting ID: 433 635 2099 Dial 1 346 248 7799 US (Houston)
PSALM 91 (The Message)
1-13 You who sit down in the High God’s presence, spend the night in El Shaddai’s shadow, Say this: “God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!”
That’s right—he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you — under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm.
Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day, Not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon. Even though others succumb all around, drop like flies right and left, no harm will even graze you.
You’ll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance, watch the wicked turn into corpses. Yes, because God’s your refuge, the High God your very own home, Evil can’t get close to you, harm can’t get through the door.
He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they’ll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You’ll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path.
14-16 “If you’ll hold on to me for dear life,” says God, “I’ll get you out of any trouble. I’ll give you the best of care, if you’ll only get to know and trust me.
Call me and I’ll answer, be at your side in bad times; I’ll rescue you, then throw you a party. I’ll give you a long life, give you a long drink of salvation!”
Some time during this self-quarantine, we will each feel like the walls are starting to close in. Perhaps you feel a bit like that already. Having somebody limit our range and motion is tough for all of us, now matter how young or old we are. That guard or guardian is rarely appreciated, who guards our door, and sets guidelines about when we can and cannot exit.
This Psalm is clearly written for folks who feel imprisoned.
Perhaps by actual bars and locks and keys and walls and stone blocks and chains and guards.
Or perhaps the prison is the even harder kind to break free from. The prison of our hearts, souls, and minds. Feeling trapped can be a challenge for us, even when our physical range of motion is not restricted. It think this is one reason that the outstretched wings of a large bird can invoke such a soaring sense of freedom.
NOTE: The Eagle is never mentioned in PSALM 91. But we know the song. On Eagle's Wings. And the song always reminds me of this image in the last moments of The Return of the King, when the One Ring is destroyed and Sam and Frodo lie prone atop Mt. Doom.
Author, JRR Tolkien, perhaps due to his experiences in the foxholes of World War One, seems to ruthlessly tune into the emotional hopelessness that can, at times, entrap us all. We hear the pending trap clearly in the early chapters of The Lord of the Rings, in this phrase, imprinted upon the One Ring itself:
"One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them. One Ring to gather. And in the Darkness bind them. In the land of Mordor. Where the shadows lie."
So here lies Frodo, exhausted, spent. Surrounded by a rising ebb of volcanic lava all around him. Emotionally drained as well as physically depleted. Beside him lies Sam, his faithful companion. Sam was Frodo's source of energy and support in the last desperate leg of their hopeless journey.
Now Sam is equally drained and destitute. Only if the One Ring was destroyed could the world of Middle Earth be saved. And, against all odds, suffering great hardship, loss, and danger, Sam and Frodo accomplish the task. And lay down to die. All hope has disappeared.
And then. The Eagles arrive. The Calvary has arrived. Wait, did I spell the "cavalry" rescue team wrong again? Perhaps not. This picture could just as well be Mount Calvary. As the lifeless body of Christ and one of the criminals lies there. Inanimate. And yet. The outstretched, protective wings of the Eagle are there. Powerful. Prominent.
Like Tolkien, King David was a soldier who had fought in hopeless skirmishes before. And on more than one occasion, when all hope seems lost. The Eagles arrive. Appropriately punctuated like that with a Capital Letter. The "Eagles" arrived.
When all hope seemed lost, The Eagle arrived.
Father Michael Joncas, always preferred that his song, "On Eagle's Wings," be punctuated so that the "wings" belong to a "single eagle" as a metaphor for God. But he said he could make an argument for the plural "On Eagles' Wings," since many wings would be needed to lift up the multitude of people in covenant with God. The promise of the Psalm is that there is an Eagle for each of us. Enough hope for all of us.
Now the Eagle is never mentioned in PSALM 91. But you can clearly sense and feel the majesty of an Eagle as you read the words above, especially the way Eugene Peterson translated them in The Message.
I have been fascinated by The Message since I heard about it during my first call as an ordained pastor. I love reading it as a preparation for preaching. The words and phrases are quite different that what I have memorized by heart, and they often challenge me to find a new perspective on the text.
But they aren't the familiar words I first fell in love with. There is a poetry to The Message, but it is a different kind of poetry than we find in the more traditional translations. And while my spirit finds great freedom in Peterson's poetry. Another side of me rejects the novelty of his words. Part of me wants to stay locked into my old and familiar way of thinking. So I share these next five paragraphs from an article by Hope McPherson about Peterson, bookended by the quotes. And I will center on the green highlighted content of the fifth paragraph.
EUGENE PETERSON, best-selling author of The Message, was convinced his paraphrasing translation of the Bible would fail.
A Seattle Pacific College graduate of 1954 and longtime professor, pastor and author, Peterson took on the task, in part, to appease a persistent NavPress editor. The editor had read Peterson’s paraphrase of Galatians in his 1982 book, Traveling Light, and wanted more.
Eight years later, Peterson finally agreed to translate 10 chapters of the Gospel According to Matthew, but stopped after translating four. “It was as bad as I thought it was going to be,” Peterson says wryly. “It was just awful — wooden, stilted and contrived.” Believing the task futile, he skipped to the Sermon on the Mount “just to have fun,” he recalls. Then something happened. “I found my voice,” he says. Millions of readers agree.
[Now,] With his fame growing as fast as The Message flies out of bookstores, Peterson says the Big Sky Country helps maintain his anonymity. Still, the translation’s impact spreads. In December 2001, Rolling Stone magazine quoted U2 lead singer, Bono, saying, “[T]here’s a translation of scriptures — the New Testament and the Books of Wisdom — that this guy Eugene Peterson has undertaken. It has been a great strength to me. He’s a poet and a scholar, and he’s brought the text back to the tone in which the books were written.”
Says Peterson: “The letters I prize most are from prisoners. They’re written in phonetic script and say, ‘I never knew I could read the Bible!’”
The letters he prizes most are from prisoners. Who were set free. By the words of Scripture. Like this from Psalm 91:
“God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!”
That’s right—he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you — under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm.
He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they’ll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You’ll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path.
A dear friend of mine spent far too many years in prison. And he said the hardest part was learning how to accept that his body was imprisoned, but still allow his heart, soul, and mind to become free. It was the hardest part. And also the best part he said. Because he couldn't do it without Christ. And embracing that desperate need for God. Helped to set him free.
I remember hearing Nelson Mandela saying something similar. And Joseph. The son of Jacob. In Genesis 50:20 (also in The Message): Don’t you see, you planned evil against me but God used those same plans for my good, as you see all around you right now—life for many people.
Each of those former prisoners testified to the amazing freedom God can give even when we feel trapped by current circumstances. Because, they discovered, once we have found freedom in God. Our souls can never quite be imprisoned in the same way again. When that edge of hopelessness starts invading our vision, we know, now from experience: The Eagles are coming. The EAGLE is coming. God is present. Jesus is here. And when Christ enters our cell. We become freed. When the Son sets you free. You shall be free indeed.
For me, often unbidden, this song starts to echo in my mind. Reminding me of this truth. As if the sound waves of the melody are reflecting off of Mt. Doom. Or Mt. Calvary. And into the valley in which I currently find myself. My spirit may feel burdened and my heart close to breaking. And then I hear ...
And He shall raise you up, on Eagle's Wings. Bear you on the breath of dawn. Make you to shine like the sun. And hold you in the palm of His hand.
And in a way I was taught in a worshipping community of my youth, my own palm will stretch out, turned heavenward. Part in supplication. Asking God for that graceful reminder again. But also. Part in confidence. That what God has done so many times before in my life. God will do again.
The Eagle is coming. And I shall be freed indeed!!
"ON EAGLE'S WINGS" is a devotional Hymn composed by Father Michael Joncas. Its words are based on Psalm 91, the Book of Exodus 19, and the Gospel of Matthew 13.
Written in 1976, it has become popular as a contemplative Hymn at Catholic masses as well as at Mainline Protestant services, and was performed at many of the funerals of victims of September 11. It is fascinating to me how many times I have been asked to sing this song at funerals. Psalm 91 is rarely recommended as a memorial text. But our fear of death is indeed its own kind of prison. And this song and psalm evoke hope and freedom so powerfully. As well as the eternal tenderness of God.
One last thought about Finding Freedom. As a writer, I sometimes wonder if my first book will ever be published. I sometimes feel trapped within its pages. Wondering if I will ever find my way to release it and set it free to a wider audience.
So it helps to know that Peterson, the author of The Message, didn't embrace the whole project at the beginning. He first agreed only to translate 10 chapters. And then stopped after translating four.
“It was as bad as I thought it was going to be,” Peterson says wryly. “It was just awful — wooden, stilted and contrived.”
Finally he skipped to the Sermon on the Mount “just to have fun,” he recalls. Then something happened. “I found my voice,” he says.
“It doesn’t feel like my book,” says the author, reflecting on his journey. “I was a servant to the text. It’s a strange thing, really. The thing I’m best known for is the thing I feel least identified with.”
Perhaps that describes the path to freedom best for me. Letting go of my own ambitions for myself, my writing, and my life. And letting God flow through me. And my words. And my life.
As the last line of Psalm 91 says in The Message:
Call me and I’ll answer, be at your side in bad times; I’ll rescue you, then throw you a party. I’ll give you a long life, give you a long drink of salvation!”
Is there any better way than that, to taste the Freedom of God. To entrust our whole being into God's care, as in the refrain of the song:
And He will raise you up, on Eagle's Wings. Bear you on the breath of dawn. Make you to shine like the sun. And hold you in the palm of His hand.
Amen.