Control
Psalm 24
It has been quite a week, hasn’t it? Most of the long-time residents here say this may be the most snow we’ve ever gotten, and it sounds like more is on the way next week. As the storm was really hitting on Monday afternoon, I wanted to run an errand before the snow got too deep. I’ve driven in snow plenty of times, and it didn’t look like there was any need for chains yet. So I confidently got into my car, fully in control of the situation, and drove up Crowson Road, which was a good test since it has an uphill slope, and then made it into the main boulevard of Siskiyou. There were a couple of trucks on the side of the road, but there were ruts to drive in, and I just wanted to send a message via computer at work to my Rotary Club. I continued down Siskiyou Blvd and had to slow down for a semi in front of me. When I tapped on my brakes, the large pile of snow on my roof slid onto my windshield, and it was too heavy to move it with my wiper blades. I could not see very well in front of me and pulled off onto a side street.
That began the nearly 2-hour saga of “Dan trying to get back home.” My car got stuck in the snow on that side street, and after several attempts and digging out the snow, I was finally able to get the car going again. But I needed to turn it around to get back onto the main street. I ended up getting stuck in someone’s driveway. Eventually, the neighbor came out, was incredibly neighborly, and between the two of us, with shovel, rake, and scraper, I got going back down the side street towards Siskiyou. I was really close to my goal of getting to my computer to send that message. But when I got near the church, both side streets leading up to the church were covered in snow. I had no place I could park on Siskiyou, so I decided to head back home. I made it as far as the bottom of the street where I live. The slope of the hill was too high. The snow was really coming down, and my front wheel drive tires spun in place. I was forced to abandon my car and walk the rest of the way home. The car was there until Thursday morning. More about that in a minute or two.
Have you ever heard the phrase “Illusion of control?”
Wikipedia encyclopedia defines this phrase as follows. “The illusion of control is the tendency for people to overestimate their ability to control events. It was named by U.S. psychologist Ellen Langer. Definition-The illusion of control is the tendency for people to overestimate their ability to control events, for example, when someone feels a sense of control over outcomes that they demonstrably do not influence.”
I love to think I am in control of my own life, the master of my own destiny, etc. In reality, those thoughts are connected to the Illusion of control. This illusion was further proven to me in being snowbound at home for 5 days. Although my church office was just 2 and ½ miles away, I had no way to get there even though I had a car, except for when Paula was home from work with her Subaru Outback, and by then, each night it was cold and snowing. My illusions of control were replaced with the reality that in truth, I have no control over things. The psalm for this morning further reminds me of this truth.
The psalm was designed to accompany a procession into the Temple.
The psalm bears a three-part structure:
- Declaration of the Lord as creator of all and owner of all (verses 1–2)
- Liturgy of the entrance of humans into God’s sphere (verses 3–6)
- Liturgy of the entrance of the Lord into the human sphere (verses 7–10)
Psalm 24
Psalm 24 is an entrance liturgy.
It is very likely that the liturgy was designed to accompany a procession into the Temple. The theme of entrance unifies the poem—it describes humans entering God’s space (“Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD?” verse 3) and God entering human space (“Lift up your heads, O gates! … that the King of glory may come in,” verses 7, 9).
Similarly, the poem describes the contrasting natures of the God who enters into human space and the nature of those humans who are able to meet this God. Psalm 24 is about the advent of human beings into the presence of God, and the mutual arrival of the King of glory into the presence of “those who seek the face of God.”
Creator of All
The opening verses begin the movement of the poem by asserting that the earth belongs to God because it was created by God. ALL of it belongs to God, hence the phrase “And the fullness thereof.” God owns and controls the earth and all the things that live, breathe, and try to drive through the snow upon it.
This reality really began to sink in after walking up the hill through the snow to get home. Despite not being far from work, I was unable to get there on my own power and began to settle into the idea that I was snowed in. The next morning, there was a beauty to the snow, the trees, and the mountains all covered in white. This is a strange phrase, but there is “sound” to the silence when the snow falls, and I love it. I found myself watching the snow fall, feeling peaceful. I worked, but at a slower pace than when Susan and I are in the office at church. American journalist and author Elizabeth Gilbert wrote, “I would like to spend the rest of my days in a place so silent, and working at a pace so slow, that I would be able to hear myself living.” For the next day or so, I began to feel that way, working slowly, surrounded by the beauty of the falling snow, realizing the Creator of all things was in control, not me. And that felt freeing. I was able to hear myself living.
Entering God’s Space
In the second stanza of the psalm, the focus of the liturgy zooms in from the universal focus to a focus on God’s space, the Jerusalem Temple—the intersection between heaven and earth. Who may ascend the hill and stairs to the holy place of God? The requirements are moral, not ritual. Those who have clean hands and pure hearts and who do not lift up their souls to that which is false or swear something is true when it is not, can enter into God’s space and receive a blessing.
If entering into God’s sphere requires one to a strong moral center, trying to live a godly life, one eventually leaves and then receives God’s blessing.
I found many times I entered into God’s space during my time being snowed in. The silence of the snow at times gave me a peace that passed all understanding. One morning, I saw a pair of ducks slowly working their way through the deep snow over our fence in the backyard. It was so peaceful as they waddled slowly forward, with a light snow falling around them. At other moments, I watched small birds flying through the snow, wondering if they were cold and tired. I even heard a herd of cattle mooing in the distance, mournfully sounding out to the world that they were hungry and cold. I thought of that hymn, “All Creatures of Our God and King” as I pondered all the animals I had seen. Wednesday morning, when we had a bit of sun, the oak tree in our backyard was covered in snow, but shining, with stormy clouds above. In all of those moments, I tried to lift up my soul to what was true and beautiful and profound right in front of me and felt God’s presence in the beauty of it all. Much like the psalm, I found myself entering into God’s space.
God Comes Into My Space
The final stanza heralds the coming of the King of Glory into the human space. The psalm’s keyword “lift” now appears four more times in stanza three (verses 7 and 9). Ancient gates had no parts that moved up and down—this is not a metaphor for the raising of a portcullis to allow entrance. Rather, the metaphor refers to the lifting of one’s head in acknowledgment. To lift one’s head at God’s entrance is to acknowledge God as God.
This reverent and faithful attitude is the proper stance of all life toward our Creator. When God enters our space, we acknowledge God as sovereign. It becomes a confession of faith to deny competing claims. To confess the Lord as sovereign is to deny all other claims to sovereignty. To confess the Lord as sovereign means that I am not the ruler of my own life.
By Thursday morning, I really wanted to see if there was some way to go and get my car down at the bottom of Oak Knoll Drive. The car was covered in snow and I admit I have an attachment to that car, because we were able to buy it after my mother died. So Thursday morning, there was a bit of a lull in the snowfall, and the street had recently been plowed. Paula and I drove slowly down the hill in her Subaru. We had a shovel and a large floor mat, hoping we’d be able to dig the car out and get the tires on the front wheel drive car to catch a grip using the floor mat. I remember silently saying a prayer I remembered from a Mel Brooks film, “The Twelve Chairs.” In that film, Dom DeLuise plays a monk, and in one scene, he is desperately trying to climb up a steep cliff. He looks up at heaven and says as only Dom DeLuise could say, “C’MON, GOD!” I silently said the same, hoping somehow we could get my car back home.
After about 15 minutes of digging and scraping, clearing a path through the snow, we were ready to try our plan. However, just at that moment, a snow plow truck came down the hill in front of us. The road was already plowed, and I’ve no idea why they were there. But, somehow, we were there at the right moment, and the truck showed up. They used the plow to scrape even more snow out in front of my car, then both guys got out of the vehicle and dropped shovelfuls of lava rock in front of the tires. I got into the car, received a bit of coaching from one of the guys, and was able to get the car going. It felt amazing! I was so thankful. I think God heard my prayer, and in that moment, said, “No worries. I got your back.” As I drove up the hill, I thought of the psalm, and said, all of life somehow belongs to God and I am so thankful. In that moment, I lifted up my head, and acknowledged God.
Despite appearances, we aren’t in control. This is good news, because it means we are not alone in our work for justice and love of neighbor. It means that, no matter what humans in power say and do, God is at work with us as we seek to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly in faith with God. Somehow, even in the midst of this coordinated attack against Jesus’ teachings, the earth belongs to God and the fullness thereof. So hold fast to your moral center. Keep on getting into good trouble. Keep on lifting up the oppressed. Keep on loving your neighbors. When you do these acts of faith, demonstrating the coming kindom, you do not act solely on your own, but in tandem with the Creator of the universe who made it all and owns it all. God says, “No worries. I got your back.” Alleluia. Amen.
