Elder Wisdom by Jo Beth
I promise everyone that I have read more than a single verse in the Bible. And yet, as I thought about writing this over the last few weeks, the verse that was most prominent in my mind and prayers has been Psalm 121. However, I didn’t realize until I actually sat to write that this was also the verse that was central to the Elder Wisdom I wrote for February. I thought briefly about finding another verse but then thought better of it, because sometimes it’s important to consider that if our minds have been ruminating on something in particular, that can be a clue that it’s something we might want to sit with for a while. We might want to be a little curious as to what it is we’re supposed to learn.
And really, isn’t that just the way of scripture? Scripture is alive—it calls to us in different ways, at different times, depending on our circumstances, or our perspective at the time. It echoes in our hearts and whispers to us things God wants us to ponder and remember. It’s why it’s important to be in the Word on a regular basis, and why no single reading is really sufficient. It’s our engagement with the scripture, in communion with God, that helps us learn lessons at different points in our lives. It’s not that scripture changes, but how we receive it, or understand it—and what stands out to us at different moments in our lives—subtly shifts.
So I again find myself focused on Psalm 121. In February, Psalm 121:1-2 was a touchpoint for general encouragement—a reminder of life’s peaks and valleys. As we enter fall, what stands out to me is not on general encouragement, but that the promise of help comes from “the Maker of heaven and earth”:
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. –Psalms 121:1-2
Here’s how I’ve been thinking about this recently: Imagine you’re driving home on a lonely road, and your vehicle starts to sputter. You pull over out of an abundance of caution, and your stress levels start to rise. You have no idea what’s wrong, or how to fix it. You then see another car pull off behind you. The driver emerges, takes a glance at your car, and says, “I see you’re having some trouble there. You know, I recognize this vehicle well. I actually designed this particular model and make. I’ve even built a few from scratch! It won’t take long for me to figure out what’s wrong, and I’m happy to help get you back on the road.”
I imagine the comfort I would have knowing that the very person who built the car—who designed it and who best understands its innermost workings—is right there alongside me, and is also able and willing to help. I wouldn’t feel helpless, or lost, or frustrated. The stress recedes. Because the Maker is there.
It’s obviously an imperfect analogy, but it helps me rethink the verse. Days come where we may just stare in awe at the mountains in our lives—those imposing, massive, intimidating mountains that reach so high into the air that the tops are obscured with clouds. And we need help to move forward. But our help is right beside us, and our helper literally built those mountains. Put them in place, as well as every other facet of the universe. Who better to help us? Who better to diagnose what’s gone awry or to recommend a path forward?
No matter what befalls us on the journey, know that we have access to the Maker of heaven and earth as we travel life’s roads.
Psalm 121
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