by Rhonda Rhea
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18, NIV.
I keep trying to find a friendly-sounding alarm clock. Do you have one of those alarms that shrieks at the decibel level of a tornado siren? The alarm goes off, you jolt up in a panic, heart pounding, barely catching yourself before you sprint to the nearest storm shelter. Ever find those fingernail marks in the ceiling over your bed? And my alarm doesn’t blast and then stop. It just keeps on shrieking. Smashing it with a fist does nothing—except cause major fist pain. Throwing it across the room doesn’t faze it. Stomping on it doesn’t do much either. Maybe you can guess why I never keep a sledge hammer beside my bed. Or C-4.
Why don’t they make an alarm clock that gently jostles my shoulder while softly informing me that the cinnamon rolls are ready?
The thing is, if I ever found that kind of pleasant alarm clock, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t wake me. I guess there’s purpose in the shriek.
I’m convinced that there are times I need a soul alarm, too. And not a soft jostle. A good jolt. In Psalm 57, David sounds the alarm with an “Awake, my soul!”
David says, “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music. Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn. I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples. For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies. Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth,” (verses 7-11).
David is telling his sleepy-head soul to get in gear, loving, serving and glorifying the name of God. He’s waking up that part of him that is built to praise the God of the universe, readying himself for a new day of telling the whole world of the Father’s wonderful love, of his amazing faithfulness and of his vast glory.
Rejoicing in his circumstances? Not so much. David was in a cave, hiding from the king who hated him. He was in danger, running for his life. Sometimes when our circumstances aren’t exactly the best, we need to awaken our souls to understand the goodness of God and to enthusiastically sing praises to the Father from every part of our being. David’s dire circumstances and his unjust treatment screamed an urgency to share the Lord with a lost world, to contrast the wickedness of evildoers with the greatness of God. There was purpose in the shriek.
The Father’s greatness always, always calls for celebration. Sometime loud celebration. Sometimes quiet celebration.
And me? Sometimes I like to celebrate with cinnamon rolls.
Copyright Rhonda Rhea 2009 - All rights reserved.
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