Tag: psalms

Finding Our Way with a Little Bit of Light…(a pondering on Psalm 119).

Hey friends, let’s ponder on Psalm 119 today.
I know, I know, it’s a beast of a Psalm. It’s like, the longest psalm. Ever.
It’s got more lines than a line your neighborhood Chick-Fil-A at lunch time…well, you get the picture.
But stick with me, because there’s something wild in there. Something that’s gonna make you go, “Whoa.”

So, let’s zero in on verses 105-112, shall we?

Here it is (buckle up):

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. I have taken an oath and confirmed it, that I will follow your righteous laws. I have suffered much; preserve my life, Lord, according to your word. Accept, Lord, the willing praise of my mouth, and teach me your laws. Though I constantly risk my life, I will not forget your law. The wicked have set a snare for me, but I have not strayed from your precepts. Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart. My heart is set on keeping your decrees to the very end.“

Okay, first off, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” Done. Simple, right? But think about it.
We’re not talking about a spotlight, blinding you with certainty. We’re talking about a lamp. A little light in the dark.
You know, when you’re stumbling around in the middle of the night, trying to find the bathroom? And there’s that little plug-in night light to light your way and prevent you from stubbing your toe on that nightstand that’s trying to trip you.


That’s what this is. It’s enough light for the next step.
Not the whole staircase, just the next step.

See, we get so caught up in needing to know everything. We want the grand plan, the detailed map, the GPS (with the ETA of how long it’s going to take us to get there) coordinates for our entire lives.

But that’s not how it works, is it?
We get the next step.
And then the next.
And then the next.

And then, verse 107: “I have suffered much.”
Yeah, me too. You too. We all have. Life throws curveballs. It punches you in the gut. It sucker punches you in the nose when you’re not looking. And life tends to leave you wondering, “What just happened?”
But even in the midst of that, the psalmist says, “preserve my life, Lord, according to your word.”

It’s not about escaping the pain. It’s about finding a way through it. It’s about trusting that even when things are messy and confusing, there’s a light guiding you. Not a guarantee of a pain-free life, but a promise of presence. I know in previous postings we’ve talked a lot about this. But isn’t it encouraging to know that 1) you’re not the only one who wonders about stuff like this? And 2) God gets us. He knows us. He desires to journey along right beside us as we find our way through that next dumpster fire of a day.

The next step is lit…not the whole course of the journey just yet.

And then, verse 111: “Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart.” Joy!
Right there in the middle of suffering, in the face of danger, there’s what?! JOY?
Not the kind of joy that comes from having everything figured out, but the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.
It’s the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’re connected to something so much bigger than yourself.

Because here’s the thing: you’re not just some random speck of dust floating through the universe.
You’re part of something incredible. Something beautiful. Something that’s been unfolding for a long, long time.

So, take a deep breath. Let that little lamp light your way. Take the next step. And remember, even in the darkness, there’s joy. There’s light. There’s hope. And you? You’re gonna be okay. Things are going to be alright. God has not left your side.

Grace & Peace.
-Pastor Scott.

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From Dumpster Fire to Safety and Hope…

Alright, friends, happy Friday! (have you been working for the weekend? -sorry I couldn’t help myself).
Let’s talk about Psalm 91 today.

You know, that one that’s like, “Yo, you wanna live under the shadow of the Almighty?”
And we are all like, “Um, yeah, I do!“

So, let me ask you this, do you ever feel like life is just throwing curveballs at you? And, like, they are curveballs that are on fire? You’re over here just trying to make it to Tuesday, and suddenly, boom! Plague! Famine! Angry lions!
(Okay, maybe not lions, but you get the picture.) It’s just a dumpster fire of a week, month, year…

Psalm 91 is all about that secret place. No, not the book The Secret Garden, although that one always makes me cry…
But in Psalm 91 – You know, that spot where you’re just chillin’ with God, under the Almighty’s wing. It’s like finding that perfect hammock spot in the shade on a super hot day. You just sink in, and you’re like, “Ahhh, yeah. This is it.”

Now, some folks read this and think, “Okay, so if I say these words, I’m automatically immune to everything bad.” Like it’s some kind of magical incantation. (insert the Harry Potter-verse here) But, hold up! That’s not how this works.

Think of it like this: it’s not about being protected from everything, it’s about being held through everything.
It’s about knowing that even when the arrows are flying and the ground is shaking, you’re not alone.
You’re in that secret place, tucked in, held close.

Verse 4 says, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings, you will find refuge.” Feathers! (I’m sorry, but why do I irreverently think of Big Bird from Sesame Street?!) But, Feathers?! Like a big, warm, divine bird hug.


How cool is that? It’s not about escaping the storm, it’s about knowing you’re safe in the middle of it.

I’m sure some of you reading this right now are in the middle of some storm of life.

And check this out: “You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.” It’s not about having no fear, because, let’s be real, fear happens. It’s about knowing that fear doesn’t get the final say.
It’s about trusting that even when things are dark and scary, God’s got your back.

Think of it like this: you’re walking through a haunted house. It’s dark and spooky, and there are jump scares everywhere. But you’re holding hands with someone you trust. You might jump, you might scream, but you know you’re not going through it alone.

THAT’S THE SECRET PLACE.
It’s not a physical location, it’s a state of being.
It’s knowing that even when life’s a hot mess, a freaking dumpster fire…
you’re connected to something bigger, something stronger, something that loves you more than you can imagine.

So, perhaps next time, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, take a deep breath.
Find that secret place. Remember those feathers. Remember that you’re held.
And remember, you’re not alone. We’re all in this crazy, beautiful, messy thing together.
And God’s got us.

Grace and Peace friends!
Go live that feathered life!

-Pastor Scott.
(Have a great weekend, we’ll see you on Monday!)

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Feeling Alone? Here’s The Prescription

Happy Thursday, friends…or whenever you read this.

Let’s talk about Psalm 139.
Yeah, that one. The “You knit me together in my mother’s womb” one.
The “Where can I flee from your presence?” one.
The “Search me, God, and know my heart” one.

You know, sometimes we read these ancient texts, these poems, and we think, “Yeah, that’s nice,” To our Western minds it reads all cozy and fluffy like rainbows and puppy dogs, and we move on. But Psalm 139? This thing wants to get under your skin. It wants to mess with your assumptions. It wants to remind you of something so fundamental, so deeply rooted in the very fabric of reality, that you can’t ignore it. It’s like when the Holy Spirit tugs at your mind and prompts you to do something about it…that’s the kind of thought-provoking Psalm that 139 was written to be.

And what is Psalm 139 all about? What does it want us to know? What can we understand from such an ancient yet-still-relevant text of poetry?

Here it is…
are you ready for it?

You are known. Deeply, utterly, completely known.

Not just the surface-level stuff, like your favorite coffee or your go-to Netflix show.
No, we’re talking about the you that you sometimes try to hide. The parts you’re ashamed of, the doubts you wrestle with, the fears that keep you up at night. The real you no one completely knows – But God does.

David, the writer of this psalm, is freaking out a little bit, right?
He’s like, “Where can I go? If I go up to the heavens, you’re there. If I make my bed in the depths, you’re there.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to escape, but he can’t.
Because here’s the kicker: there is nowhere you can go that God isn’t already there.

Think about that for a second. Let it sink in.

We live in a world that tells us we need to perform, to prove ourselves, to earn our worth. That next level accomplishments is the measurement of success and “being a productive human”…
We’re constantly bombarded with messages about how we’re not enough.
But Psalm 139 says, “Before a word is on my tongue, you, Lord, know it completely.“

Before you even think it, God already knows. Before you even feel it, God already feels it.
Before you even mess up, God already knows.

And here’s the radical, mind-blowing, life-altering part: God isn’t freaked out by it.

God isn’t sitting up there, shaking their head and saying, “Oh, man, they messed up again.”
No, God is saying, “I see you. I know you. And I love you.”

This isn’t about some distant, judgmental deity. This is about a God who is intimately involved in your life, who formed you in your mother’s womb, who knows every hair on your head. Think about it, before you knew yourself – God knew you. Doesn’t that just blow your mind?!

And yeah, it can be a little scary. It can feel vulnerable. But it’s also incredibly liberating. Because when you realize that you’re already known and loved, you don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to put on a show. You can just be you.

David ends the psalm with a plea: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.“

It’s an invitation.
A call to honesty.
A willingness to let God into the messy, complicated parts of our lives.

So, here’s my encouragement for you today: embrace the knowing.
Let God see you. Let God love you. Let God lead you.

You are NOT alone. You are not forgotten.
You are deeply, utterly, completely known and loved.

And that, dear friends, is fantastic news.
Something more to ponder today.
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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Beyond Fear and the ‘What-ifs’

I sought the Lord, and he answered me.
He delivered me from all my fears.

Simple words.
Profound truth. Ancient wisdom for modern anxiety.

What if…

What if your fears aren’t the end of the story? What if there’s something beyond the paralysis, beyond the what-ifs, beyond the worst-case scenarios that play on endless loop in your mind?

Here’s what David discovered:

There’s a seeking. An answer. A deliverance.

But let’s back up. (beep, beep, beep)
Let’s talk about fear for a moment.
Fear grips us. Constricts us. Whispers lies about who we are and what’s possible.
Fear tells us we’re alone, tells us we’re not enough, tells us the darkness is winning. So many lies…

But what if…

What if fear isn’t the truest thing about you?
*mic drop*

What if there’s a voice louder than fear?
A presence stronger than fear?
A love deeper than fear?
And that voice and send fear packing, evicting its presence.

This is what David tapped into. This is the reality he discovered.

The Seeking

“I sought the Lord,” David writes.

Not “I figured it out on my own.”
Not “I powered through.”
Not “I pretended everything was fine.”
Not “I put out a poll with my friends to see what to do next.”

No, David sought. He reached out. He admitted his need.
Could there be something in admitting we need God?
Could there be something to discovering His strength is what’s been missing all along?

What if your seeking is the first step toward freedom? What if your questions, your longings, your restlessness – what if they’re all part of the journey toward deliverance?

The Answer

“…and he answered me.”

Simple. Direct. Profound.

David sought. God answered.

What if God is more eager to respond than we are to ask?
What if the universe is designed for us to find this divine connection, in favor of love, in favor of being heard?

The Deliverance

“He delivered me from all my fears.”
Not some fears. Not most fears. All fears.

What if complete deliverance is possible?
What if freedom isn’t just a nice idea, but a lived reality?
Did Jesus say, “The Kingdom of Heaven is here”? It’s right here, not out there somewhere in the universe – but accessible. Here. Now.

Here’s what I want you to consider:

Your fears don’t define you.
Your anxiety doesn’t have the final word.
Your past doesn’t determine your future.

There’s a seeking available to you right now. There’s an answer waiting to be heard. There’s a deliverance that can rewrite your story.

So maybe, just maybe, it’s time to seek. To reach out. To admit your need.

Because on the other side of that seeking?

That’s where the answer lives.
That’s where deliverance waits.
That’s where you discover who you really are.

And who you really are?
That’s the beginning of wisdom when we align who we are with who God is…perhaps it starts the other way around and we begin with seeking the Lord. He will answer you.

It’s beyond the confines of fear – it’s transformative and can shed light in all of the spaces fear has occupied.
And that my friends is worth seeking after.

Grace & Peace
-Pastor Scott.

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Taste and See: The Beauty of Trusting in God.

There’s something magnetic about the way the psalms draw us in, isn’t there? They’re raw, human, unpolished. They take us to the very core of the human experience—joy, pain, fear, gratitude. Today, let’s pause with Psalm 34:

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. … Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.”

Did you catch that? Fear and radiance, shame and goodness—all intertwined. The psalmist isn’t merely saying, “Believe this.” He’s inviting us to experience it, to live it, to feel it deep in our bones.

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me.”

Seeking is active. It’s not passive waiting; it’s stepping into the mystery, bringing our messy, tangled fears before God. When you seek, you’re opening your heart to the possibility that maybe—just maybe—there’s a love big enough to hold you, even in your darkest moments.

And then? Freedom. Deliverance. The kind of peace that makes fear lose its grip.

“Those who look to him are radiant.”

Radiance—it’s not about physical beauty or perfection. It’s about what happens when you live with the weight of shame lifted off your shoulders. It’s the glow of someone who knows they’re deeply loved, fully seen, and completely accepted.

Have you ever noticed how light seems to pour out of people who’ve encountered that kind of love? Their joy isn’t tethered to circumstances; it flows from something deeper, more unshakable.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

This isn’t a theoretical proposition. It’s an invitation to dive in. To taste. To see. To engage all your senses. The psalmist is saying, “Try it. Take the leap. Experience God’s goodness for yourself.”

Think about tasting—really tasting—a piece of ripe fruit. You don’t analyze it from a distance. You bite into it. The sweetness floods your mouth. It’s immediate. Real. That’s the kind of encounter with God the psalmist is talking about.

So, what’s the invitation here?

It’s not to have all the answers. (we certainly don’t) It’s not to tidy up your life or figure out your theology. (it’s still a work in progress) It’s simply to come. To seek. To look. To taste. To take refuge in a God who is good—always good—even when life feels anything but.

What would it look like for you to bring your fears to God today? To trust that he meets you right there, not with condemnation, but with deliverance?

What if you leaned into his goodness—not as a concept, but as a reality you can taste and see and know?

Let’s live this day tasting, seeing, trusting. Because when we do, radiance isn’t just a possibility; it becomes the very rhythm of our lives.

Grace and peace.

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