A Spacious Place!

Text: Psalm 66:8-12
Theme: “A Spacious Place”
Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 29, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

IN THE NAME OF JESUS

Praise our God, O peoples, let the sound of his praise be heard; he has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping. For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.

It is appropriate, with Dylanfest 2011 scheduled for 7:00 PM here tonight, to start off with a poetic gem from Bob Dylan. In the 1981 album Shot of Love, Dylan wrote a song, entitled “Every Grain of Sand”, which included these words: “I gaze into the doorway of temptation’s angry flame. And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name.”

How many times a day does temptation call your name? Most mornings, before I pull the covers back, I face temptation even before I get out of bed. I’m tempted to think maudlin thoughts about what I have to do or what may or may not happen during the course of the day. Temptation comes in all kinds of voices and shapes and sizes, but it always attempts to change our focus from faith in God and love of our neighbor to ourselves.

In a few weeks, we will celebrate Holy Trinity Sunday. We’ll reflect on how God is revealed as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, or, if you will, Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. But on a daily basis, our reflections are usually based not on the Holy Trinity but rather on what I’ve dubbed the “unholy” trinity of me, myself, and I. We’re not curved out in the direction of God and the neighbor, but we’re curved in on the self. We look out for number one. We ask, at many a crossroad in life, “What’s in it for me?” We rationalize by thinking or saying that everybody is like that, and then we go on our merry way along the path of least resistance.

Your presence here this morning is a healthy rebellion against such self-centeredness, for you have come to praise God from whom all blessings flow. Many of these blessings are in the form people, people that we love, that are no longer with us. Their memories are fresh in our minds this weekend. We thank God for the countless ways they influenced life for the better. We think of the folks across our land that, at some point this Memorial Day weekend, will bring flowers to the graves of loved ones. Some of those graves are brand new, and this Memorial Day will include a bittersweet poignancy. One of the graves is that of Walter Rohre, a member of this church, who was not in Denton, Texas in December of 1941. No, he was at Pearl Harbor when our country was brutally attacked. He served at a makeshift military hospital – and it is difficult to even imagine what that must have been like on that day that President Franklin Roosevelt said would live “in infamy”. Walter would have understood the lyrics of today’s choir anthem which was also sung at President Reagan’s funeral: “To fallen soldiers let us sing, where no rickets fly nor bullets wing. Our broken brothers let us bring to the mansions of the Lord.”

That said, we’re also here today to thank our God for all those who gave that “last full measure of devotion” in defense of the freedoms we enjoy as citizens of this country. Freedom is a gift; there is no doubt about that. But it did not come on the cheap. The same is true of our spiritual freedom as children of God. It cost God something. The Gospel declares that God “did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all.” Toward the end of the Civil War, President Lincoln wrote a letter to a mother who lost two sons. He wrote with stirring words about the sacrifice that “was laid at the altar of freedom.”

Of all the Scriptures set aside for our hearing in today’s service, I thought the Psalm captured things best. Psalm 66 calls forth praise. “Praise our God, O people,” it says. “Let the sound of his praise be heard; he has preserved our lives.” Here of late we’ve learned again how fragile life can be. The violent tornadoes in various parts of our country have, themselves, caused fresh graves to be cut. We wonder, “When’s the big storm going to hit us?” Then came last Tuesday night with its funnel clouds dipping down and pulling up seemingly in rehearsal for a dance of destruction. Transformers blue up like fireworks in the dark sky. Fifty thousand people were without power for a time. When it was over, I heard people say that we “dodged a bullet.” But here we are with our lives preserved – to use the language of the psalm.

John Calvin, the great sixteenth century reformer of the church, joins his thoughts to those of many others in praising the psalms. He wrote: “I would call this book an anatomy of all parts of the soul; for no one will discover in himself a single feeling where the image is not reflected in this mirror. No, all griefs, sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, cares, anxieties – in short, all those tumultuous agitations wherewith the minds of men are wont to be tossed – the Holy Ghost hath here represented to the life.”

Our psalm today is a thrill ride if there ever was one. It joins high doxology and praise to those tumultuous agitations of which Calvin spoke. Totally missing is the polished piety of Christian churches on quiet Sunday mornings. The psalmist is not given to correctness – theological, political, or otherwise. The writer shoots from the hip and says: “For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water… .” Yes, in the middle of this happy psalm of praise, there is an accusing finger pointed at God! It’s as if the psalmist is saying: “God, you’re great; you’re wonderful; you’re awesome; you’re incredible; you’re all-powerful; you’re all-knowing. Yip, yip, yip yahoo! But God, you let all this stuff happen. In fact, it looks like you caused some of it.” Sometimes the psalms say what we can’t bring ourselves to say!

But our reading doesn’t conclude with an accusing finger. It ends with a finger pointing all around. The psalmist says to God: “You brought us to a place of abundance.” Another translation says: “You brought us to a spacious place.”

That’s where we are today, dear friends. We have our spacious place, our place of abundance. There may be tumultuous agitations along the way, but, like today, the love of God – made known in our crucified and risen Lord – will always bring you to a spacious place.

Amen.