Lifting My Eyes

A song of ascents.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you— the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

This Psalm, a single reading amidst many in my daily routine and one that I am very familiar with, grabbed my heart this morning.

There are many explanations for what the first phrase of the psalm means. Why would the writer look to the hills at all? Some people believe that it is a positive call, since looking at the mighty mountains can lead to thoughts of God's power and stability. Other writers make it comparative, you could look to the mountains (some say this is a reference to the pagan gods whose shrines were often on mountain peaks,) for comfort when in the valley of despair or you could instead look to God, an altogether better alternative. Still others state that the hills represent danger. For pilgrims walking to Jerusalem, ascending into the mountains meant facing new dangers. Thus, when facing fearful situations, the psalmist is calling the reader to counter fear with thoughts of God's goodness and protection.

Given the fact that my home is literally surrounded by mountains, I'm constantly "lifting my eyes" to the "hills" of Alaska.

There are days when these mountains do proclaim God's power, creativity and transcendence to me. But there have also been days when I look at a particular mountain and see a painful, arduous journey to the top. Contrary to what you may think, hiking really isn't my thing. I only do it in order to prove that I can (and, let's be honest, to take pictures from the peak.)

Today when my alarm rang, I turned it off and immediately my brain began list all the things that I needed to complete/plan/research RIGHT NOW! It was as if I woke up to an orchestra playing in my head. And not the London Symphony Orchestra either, more like the loud and cacophonic first practice of a class of sixth graders. Not even reading the Bible (the Bible, folks) seemed to stop the noise.

And then I read this Psalm.

Today, the hills in this song represented difficulty to me. They are a million things that stand between my family and our new home in Izmir. The task of getting from here to there feels overwhelming. Granted, I made the choice to take on this stress (it would have been much simpler to just stay in AK during Paul's tour) so self-pity isn't appropriate. Still. Choosing the hard thing doesn't reduce its frustration : )

So I as read (and then re-read) I heard the Holy Spirit confirming that this God of the Old Testament writer was also my God. Close enough to stop a slip of the foot (or a mix-up in PCSing paperwork,) close enough to watch over my family as we sleep (in various places while traveling from AK to Turkey,) and close enough provide protection in moments when I don't even know that we need it. He is close to my heart and mind, reminding me of truths that comfort and truths that convict. His nearness gives me comfort. His transcendence gives me confidence. (And if you want an excellent sermon on God's transcendence and imminence, you should listen to Pastor Josh's message from last Sunday. I'll never look at the interaction at the burning bush the same way!!)

Today, lifting my eyes means not letting my brain run away with me. (Practically, it means taking five minutes and writing everything down...anything that pops into my head goes on a list and then I pray about that list : ) Rather, I take the concerns and I look past them to the God who is great, who is good. This God loves me, and I choose to trust him (again and again, whenever the orchestra is playing in my brain : ) to guide my family from now until this summer.

(And then I might listen to these songs, as they suddenly seem incredibly appropriate for this day : )