so my soul longs for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the face of God?
My tears have been my food
day and night,
while people say to me continually,
‘Where is your God?’”
~Psalm 42:1-3
I remember learning long ago (we’re talking grade school, maybe junior high, here) that there were certain tribes of Native Americans in the western part of what is now the United States (but was, at that time, just wilderness) who tamed wild horses. They would pursue these horses in a pack of men who would chase the horse, taking care to essentially make it run in circles. They would take turns running this wild beast until it could run no more. Naturally, a horse can outrun a man any day – both in terms of speed and longevity – so they needed to work in a group, each man taking a turn to run the horse in a long circle before the next, rested man tagged in. Again, I have no idea about the historical veracity of this “knowledge.” It may very well be a thing my junior high track coach told us to keep us running in circles.
That story, at any rate, comes to me nearly every time I read Psalm 42. “As the deer longs for flowing streams…” Why would a deer (or horse) have such a longing? Why wouldn’t they have made their life near the flowing stream in the first place? Most animals are pretty good at self-preservation and don’t tend to stray too far from sources of food, water, and security. Maybe it’s because it was being hunted by something, something that kept it running without ceasing. Like those horses in America’s wild west, it wanted to stop, but couldn’t.
We don’t tend to find ourselves hunted by very many things in civilized society (though it is often the stuff of horror movies). Instead, we are apt to be haunted by things, most especially our past mistakes – both those things we did and shouldn’t have and those things we didn’t do and should’ve. If my wildly tangential reflection on Psalm 42 bears any fruit it is the reminder that in Jesus Christ, the grace we need to stop running from our past mistakes has been made available and – more so! – that we are able to stop and drinking deeply of the living water He offers us. In this, we learn that grace is a two-step dance. First, we get to stop running. Second, we get to consume nourishment from our Lord.
It is important to remember both steps in the dance of grace. To only stop running means that we are still responsible for our own nourishment and well-being. We may no longer find ourselves hunted and haunted, but neither do we find ourselves on a meaningful path. Step one relieves us of certain burdens, but it also leaves us to wander on our own. Step two, however, invites us onto a pathway. It invites us to make our lives near the flowing stream of the Lord – a stream that in Revelation we’re told has its origins in the very throne of God. So, not only are we no longer hunted, now we are led.
What is chasing you down inside your head? What thought or worry or insecurity creeps up on your every time you try to stop moving, every time you try to catch your breath? The grace of God is powerful enough to conquer this thing. Come, let the living waters wash it away and then refresh yourself on these very waters. Amen.
