March 11, 2012 PSALM 19:1-9 NRSV

March 11, 2012

PSALM 19:1-9 NRSV

¹   The heavens are telling the glory of God; 
          and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork. 
²   Day to day pours forth speech, 
          and night to night declares knowledge. 
³   There is no speech, nor are there words; 
          their voice is not heard; 
⁴   yet their voice goes out through all the earth, 
          and their words to the end of the world.

     In the heavens God has set a tent for the sun, 
⁵   which comes out like a bridegroom from his wedding canopy, 
          and like a strong man runs its course with joy. 
⁶   Its rising is from the end of the heavens, 
          and its circuit to the end of them; 
          and nothing is hidden from its heat.

⁷   The law of the LORD is perfect, 
          reviving the soul; 
     the decrees of the LORD are sure, 
          making wise the simple; 
⁸   the precepts of the LORD are right, 
          rejoicing the heart; 
     the commandment of the LORD is clear, 
          enlightening the eyes; 
⁹   the fear of the LORD is pure, 
          enduring for ever; 
     the ordinances of the LORD are true 
          and righteous altogether. 

¹⁰  More to be desired are they than gold, 
          even much fine gold; 
     sweeter also than honey, 
          and drippings of the honeycomb.

***

Have you heard what the sun says? Have you listened to the stars speak? Have rays of sunshine reached you and declared knowledge? Have the heavens proclaimed wonders to you? Have you heard their silent voice? It speaks beyond words, beyond sounds, beyond our finest hearing. Yet, the voice of heavens goes out to all the earth. You must have heard it.

Did you hear it in the grey clouds against this early morning’s rich blue sky? This past week, did it yell out to you in the full moon’s radiant glory? Did the moonshine tell you the way in the dark? Did you listen for it on the mountain and the sky surrounding the peaks? If nothing else, you must have felt the warmth of yesterday’s sun. Did you know that warmth proclaimed the glory of God?

I went on a run yesterday morning. I started out with a sweatshirt and hat, not a hundred feet later, I in my t-shirt, leaned my head toward the sun, and I think I closed my eyes. I could feel that warmth. Through my eyelids, I could see that bright light. God was singing to me. It’s like that for me, and maybe its time to tell you a little of my call story, at least the second half.

I was in college, and had been an atheist since second grade. I went on a run on a trail that skirted a river. Tall pines rose high above; their needles and thin branches made dark broken shadows like black shattered glass on the dirt ground. Trip-some tree roots rose and fell like never ending breaking waves. I was enjoying myself, but concentrating heavily on the ground. As I ran, a butterfly flew in front of my face. It paced along with me, leading me for a long time, at least long enough for me to really notice it. I noticed the way it flew smoothly through the air. I noticed the rust colored dust on its wings. I wondered to myself, ‘How can this be just science? There must be something more. This must be God.’ Then the butterfly had gone, and I ran home by a different way.

In seminary, most folks’ call story, went something more along the lines of, ‘I grew up in the church, was a religious studies major in college, and then felt a call from God.’ I remember being in a room with perspective students all telling this same story, and when it came my turn, I felt like I could not say mine. Would I sound too crazy? Was this theologically correct? Two years later, in a theology class, the idea of how we know God came up. The professor insisted we know God only through scripture. This time I debated. I was in seminary because God spoke to me in silent words through a butterfly. In reading the commentaries for today’s scripture, commentators focused on the second half of the psalm, the laws from God part. I get why.

I get why my professor debated. I get why I was scared to share my call story. It is harder to put words to the experience of, ‘wonder.’ Part of what makes something, ‘wonder,’ is that there are no words.  It is harder to explain the way God speaks in the silence of the heavens. You can neither measure their vast expanse, nor know all they contain. They are beyond. You can neither put words to the moon, nor the sun. They are beyond. You can neither proclaim the beauty of cloud, nor declare the awesome twinkle of the stars. They are beyond. You can try to explain the rotation of the plants, and constellations, but you end up with human words like Kepler’s Law, and gravity. You end up with human constructs like Leap Year and Daylight Savings Time, rather than becoming speechless at the grace of the sun’s rising and setting each day. The only way to explain these things is in the silence of wonderment.

In this Lenten season, we are good at focusing on humility, and reverence. I challenge you to seek wonder also. I challenge you to wonder at the heavens, at the warmth and light from the sun, at the moon and stars above. I challenge you in that wonder to listen for the voice of God’s glory.

Have you heard what the sun says? Have you listened to the stars speak? Have rays of sunshine reached you and declared knowledge? Have the heavens proclaimed wonders to you? Have you heard their silent voice? It speaks beyond words, beyond sounds, beyond our finest hearing. Yet, the voice of the heavens goes out to all the earth.