Dear Friends,

In our reading from Psalm 27 for today, the questions, “Whom shall I fear? Of whom shall I be afraid?” have a particular resonance, as we grieve the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the toll it is taking on millions of people, even as we mourn the loss of loved ones in our own community.

For the people of Ukraine, or the citizens of other countries threatened by invading armies and brutal regimes, the psalmist’s questions are not rhetorical; they are personal and real. But the stage need not be set so far way: these questions are personal for the bereaved spouse, the newly sober mom who can’t stop craving the alcohol hidden in her cupboard, or the children watching TikTok and wondering where war will strike next. There are plenty of enemies for us to fear and Psalm 27 names their place and their power with honesty as it migrates between fear and trust.

It’s this honesty that keeps me turning to the psalms during times of stress or fear. The psalmist’s no-spin version of faith isn’t trying to sell us anything or force an agenda. He’s just plain sharing his experience of God. And there’s nothing one-dimensional about it.

The first five verses of Psalm 27 affirm the psalmist’s confidence in a God who is his light and his salvation, the stronghold of his life. But by verse 6 enemies are circling, God appears to be hidden or absent, and the psalmist’s faith is shaken. In verse 9 we read, “Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help.” The “have been” of this verse is heartbreaking. God was once a helpful presence. But that help is now hidden. “Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me.”

If we are as honest as the psalmist, we could say the same of God’s presence in our own lives. Many of you have heard me talk about what Celtic Christians refer to as “thin places” - where the veil between our world and God’s is particularly thin and we experience God’s presence in profound and beautiful ways. But this also implies thick places - landscapes, situations, contexts where God cannot be readily experienced or known.

What strikes me anew about these two sides of the divine equation is the psalm’s suggestion that we have a role to play. The psalmist’s heart beckons him to seek God, to not remain idle or stagnant in faith, to not expect God to cover the entire distance between us by Godself. “Come,” the psalmist’s heart says, “seek his face!” This seeking, it seems, is a key component in our spiritual relationship.

And for me, seeking, making ourselves available, putting ourselves in God’s path, and opening our heart to encounters with God is what the season of Lent is all about. It’s about trusting that what you don’t know will be available to you, you just have to let it in. Or as the psalmist puts it, “Tarry, and await the Lord’s pleasure,” then you shall see “the goodness of the Lord in the land of living.” 

For those whose enemies are circling, whose safety and security are threatened and God seems nowhere to be found, Psalm 27 is a helpful and hopeful word. Wait for the Lord. Be strong. Have courage. Seek God’s face and you shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

In Christ,

Amelie+