Study Desk

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm God ! God! I am running to you for dear life; the chase is wild. If they catch me, I'm finished: ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions, dragged into the forest and left unlooked for, unremembered. God , if I've done what they say— betrayed my friends, ripped off my enemies— If my hands are really that dirty, let them get me, walk all over me, leave me flat on my face in the dirt. Stand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it's judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I'm ready, confident in your verdict: "Innocent." Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile.

See that man shoveling day after day, digging, then concealing, his man-trap down that lonely stretch of road? Go back and look again—you'll see him in it headfirst, legs waving in the breeze. That's what happens: mischief backfires; violence boomerangs.

Sing your songs to Zion-dwelling God , tell his stories to everyone you meet: How he tracks down killers yet keeps his eye on us, registers every whimper and moan.

The hapless fool is kicked to the ground, the unlucky victim is brutally axed. He thinks God has dumped him, he's sure that God is indifferent to his plight.

But God hasn't moved to the mountains; his holy address hasn't changed. He's in charge, as always, his eyes taking everything in, his eyelids Unblinking, examining Adam's unruly brood inside and out, not missing a thing. He tests the good and the bad alike; if anyone cheats, God's outraged. Fail the test and you're out, out in a hail of firestones, Drinking from a canteen filled with hot desert wind.

God's words are pure words, Pure silver words refined seven times In the fires of his word-kiln, Pure on earth as well as in heaven. God , keep us safe from their lies, From the wicked who stalk us with lies, From the wicked who collect honors For their wonderful lies.

God sticks his head out of heaven. He looks around. He's looking for someone not stupid— one man, even, God-expectant, just one God-ready woman.

A David Song, Which He Sang to God After Being Saved from All His Enemies and from Saul I love you, God — you make me strong. God is bedrock under my feet, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight. My God—the high crag where I run for dear life, hiding behind the boulders, safe in the granite hideout.

A hostile world! I call to God , I cry to God to help me. From his palace he hears my call; my cry brings me right into his presence— a private audience!

Earth wobbles and lurches; huge mountains shake like leaves, Quake like aspen leaves because of his rage. His nostrils flare, bellowing smoke; his mouth spits fire. Tongues of fire dart in and out; he lowers the sky. He steps down; under his feet an abyss opens up. He's riding a winged creature, swift on wind-wings. Now he's wrapped himself in a trenchcoat of black-cloud darkness. But his cloud-brightness bursts through, spraying hailstones and fireballs. Then God thundered out of heaven; the High God gave a great shout, spraying hailstones and fireballs. God shoots his arrows—pandemonium! He hurls his lightnings—a rout! The secret sources of ocean are exposed, the hidden depths of earth lie uncovered The moment you roar in protest, let loose your hurricane anger.

God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start. Now I'm alert to God 's ways; I don't take God for granted. Every day I review the ways he works; I try not to miss a trick. I feel put back together, and I'm watching my step. God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

What a God! His road stretches straight and smooth. Every God -direction is road-tested. Everyone who runs toward him Makes it.

That's why I'm thanking you, God , all over the world. That's why I'm singing songs that rhyme your name. God's king takes the trophy; God's chosen is beloved. I mean David and all his children— always.

Their words aren't heard, their voices aren't recorded, But their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere. God makes a huge dome for the sun—a superdome! The morning sun's a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed, The daybreaking sun an athlete racing to the tape. That's how God's Word vaults across the skies from sunrise to sunset, Melting ice, scorching deserts, warming hearts to faith. The revelation of God is whole and pulls our lives together. The signposts of God are clear and point out the right road. The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy. The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes. God 's reputation is twenty-four-carat gold, with a lifetime guarantee. The decisions of God are accurate down to the nth degree. God's Word is better than a diamond, better than a diamond set between emeralds. You'll like it better than strawberries in spring, better than red, ripe strawberries. There's more: God's Word warns us of danger and directs us to hidden treasure. Otherwise how will we find our way? Or know when we play the fool? Clean the slate, God, so we can start the day fresh! Keep me from stupid sins, from thinking I can take over your work; Then I can start this day sun-washed, scrubbed clean of the grime of sin. These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar, O God, my Altar-Rock, God, Priest-of-My-Altar.

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm God's glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon. Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening. Their words aren't heard, their voices aren't recorded, But their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere. God makes a huge dome for the sun—a superdome! The morning sun's a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed, The daybreaking sun an athlete racing to the tape.

A David Psalm Your strength, God , is the king's strength. Helped, he's hollering Hosannas. You gave him exactly what he wanted; you didn't hold back. You filled his arms with gifts; you gave him a right royal welcome. He wanted a good life; you gave it to him, and then made it a long life as a bonus. You lifted him high and bright as a cumulus cloud, then dressed him in rainbow colors. You pile blessings on him; you make him glad when you smile. Is it any wonder the king loves God ? that he's sticking with the Best?

Here's the story I'll tell my friends when they come to worship, and punctuate it with Hallelujahs: Shout Hallelujah, you God-worshipers; give glory, you sons of Jacob; adore him, you daughters of Israel. He has never let you down, never looked the other way when you were being kicked around. He has never wandered off to do his own thing; he has been right there, listening.

He gives the rejects his hand, And leads them step-by-step.

I'm asking God for one thing, only one thing: To live with him in his house my whole life long. I'll contemplate his beauty; I'll study at his feet.

God holds me head and shoulders above all who try to pull me down. I'm headed for his place to offer anthems that will raise the roof! Already I'm singing God-songs; I'm making music to God .