He said: The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge, my savior; you save me from violence.
Whew. It’s hard to keep track of all of the friends and foes and sins and offerings in David’s world. At one point, the Lord tells him to take a census of the people of Israel. Apparently, this was something the Lord asked David because he was angry with David. David did what the Lord asked. A few verses later, however, we hear that David was stricken to the heart because he had numbered the people, and prayed to God, “Lord, I have sinned greatly in what I have done”. I’m sure I missed something, both in my glazing over of the unfamiliar names and in my lack of awareness of the gravity of the job of counting. Did the Lord ask David to do something that ultimately was sinful, and the Lord punished David for doing? That’s the way it reads. And I’ve got nothing.
But this section of Samuel is chock full of David’s expressed faith and trust in God. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer. The Lord is the one in whom I take refuge, my stronghold, and the Lord saves me from violence. Those are some strong words, all strung together.
I’m reminded of Anselm, who my tradition celebrated last week. He wrote about the relationship between understanding and belief, saying “I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but believe that I may understand.” We say these things, like David’s litany of aspirations, as a statement of belief, often without the accompanying understanding.
I don’t understand why God is my rock. My deliverer. Saver. But I believe it to be true. And over time, the dogged belief creates room for understanding, inch by inch. Or maybe not full understanding, but certainly a deeper belief.
It’s an interesting dance, between what my head thinks, my heart feels, and my soul knows. Each one of these intrepid parts takes their turn leading me, and the other two follow. Sometimes they follow reluctantly, but they follow.
Right now, my soul knows that my loved one will be ok, in whatever way is God’s way. My heart aches, and my head isn’t so sure. But I’ll hold on to the what my soul knows for now, and pray the other two get in line. God is my rock. God is my loved one’s deliverer.
But this section of Samuel is chock full of David’s expressed faith and trust in God. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer. The Lord is the one in whom I take refuge, my stronghold, and the Lord saves me from violence. Those are some strong words, all strung together.
I’m reminded of Anselm, who my tradition celebrated last week. He wrote about the relationship between understanding and belief, saying “I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but believe that I may understand.” We say these things, like David’s litany of aspirations, as a statement of belief, often without the accompanying understanding.
I don’t understand why God is my rock. My deliverer. Saver. But I believe it to be true. And over time, the dogged belief creates room for understanding, inch by inch. Or maybe not full understanding, but certainly a deeper belief.
It’s an interesting dance, between what my head thinks, my heart feels, and my soul knows. Each one of these intrepid parts takes their turn leading me, and the other two follow. Sometimes they follow reluctantly, but they follow.
Right now, my soul knows that my loved one will be ok, in whatever way is God’s way. My heart aches, and my head isn’t so sure. But I’ll hold on to the what my soul knows for now, and pray the other two get in line. God is my rock. God is my loved one’s deliverer.
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