This morning Graham started his sermon saying we were going on a "romp through Psalm 27," and I love the sentiment. He gave a beautiful reflection phrase by phrase through the passage, and it complimented my week's adventures in the Psalms. I happened to spend a lot of time in Psalm 43 yesterday, and I'm finishing a book on praying through the Psalms today.
The book admits up front we don't really know what the word "selah" means - it's a transliteration from Hebrew that's probably something of a pause or breath. When I read through the Psalms, I intentionally inhale and exhale fully at each "selah" before moving on to the next line. Generally, I like to rush through reading; I'm from America, after all: we rush through everything. Selah breaths return my attention to God.
Monday when Anja showed up for physio, my head was foggy and by body exhausted, so instead of another brace-free walk down the street, she did some massage and cupping on my legs. The muscles are always tight in my legs. Cupping is like a deep breath for my muscles as it stimulates circulation and relaxes them. I still haven't given up hope of a full recovery; I still ask for everything everyday.
Paige and I were talking yesterday about how I can't envision what an "avalanche of reconciliation" looks like. I can't imagine what a full miracle of God restoring nerve function looks like either. And yet I pray. I take a deep breath, and I pray again.
This morning, Graham showed a picture of a beautiful landscape and talked about how David's cry in Psalm 27 was about wanting more of God's presence. I want more of God's presence too. I know I can come honestly with my desires, my hopes, my dreams, but I also know I can lay them at the feet of my Lord and sing honestly, "One thing I ask, and I would seek, to see your beauty."