Psalm 134. Blessing

Business trips aside, there’s often something wonderful about coming to the end of a long journey.

If you’re going somewhere new, there’s the excitement of your first glimpse of a different country as you make your way from the airport or the harbour to your destination. Drinking in the sights and smells of a strange land.

If you’re visiting family, there’s that moment when you spot one another as you push your laden trolley through customs and out into the waiting area, and find yourselves enveloped in hugs and smiles.

And even for the weary traveller returning home – there’s the blessing of the familiar to be welcomed. The comfy chair; your own bed. The arms of your loved ones.

Today’s Psalm marks the end of a long, punctuated journey up to Jerusalem that we began over two years ago. Psalm 120 got us moving; the sheer struggles of life making us yearn for a better world, and getting our pilgrim feet on the road of discipleship.

And as we’ve travelled with these Psalms, we’ve found them challenging us and encouraging us at every turn, always and everywhere reminding us to keep God at the centre of all our living.

But today, with Psalm 134, we’ve arrived. We’re in the place of blessing. We’re at our journey’s end.

Anyone who’s ever been abroad to a warmer country knows that in the evening, the place seems to come alive as the temperature drops a little and darkness falls. Whole families come out to amble through the streets, in search of food, or a bargain, or just a good conversation.

I imagine Jerusalem at night, with crowds of folk walking through the streets, but if we could watch them from above, we’d see how their steps are leading them all to the same place. They’re winding their way up to the Temple, which is blazing with light, as folk gather to worship. The place is thronging with people, bringing their sacrifices and their thanks to God.

“Come, praise the Lord, all his servants, all who serve in his Temple at night” says the Psalmist. “Raise your hands in prayer in the Temple and praise the Lord”.

And that’s exactly what they do. A sea of voices swells. A forest of hands is raised in prayer. It must have been powerfully moving to have been a part of it.

Our journey through the Psalms of Ascent is ending. We started out in discontent and restlessness, but we end in the joyful blessing of God. And it’s the business of blessing I want us to think about this morning.

I have to confess, I was pleased to discover that the phrase ‘Praise the Lord’ in verses 1 and 2 is better translated ‘Bless the Lord’. For me, the phrase "Praise the Lord" conjures up images of the worst kind of tele-evangelist, and I tend to think of 'praise' as something you reserve for children or well-behaved pets!

But I like blessing the Lord, or thanking the Lord. I can get my head around that!

But here’s a question – when the Psalmist says “Bless the Lord, all his servants. Raise your hands in prayer in the temple and bless the Lord” is that an invitation, or a command? It could be both. And in fact, it probably is both.

As an invitation, everyone is encouraged to join in, regardless of how they happen to be feeling.

“Did you have a fight with your spouse on the way? That’s all right. You’re here now. Bless God. Did you quarrel with your neighbour while making the trip? Forget it. You’re here now. Bless God. Did you lose touch with your family while you were coming in and aren’t sure where they are now? Put that aside for the moment. They have their own pilgrimage to make. You are here. Bless God. Are you ashamed of the feelings you had while travelling? The grumbling you indulged in? the resentment you harboured? Well, it wasn’t bad enough to keep you from arriving, and now that you’re here – Bless God. Are you embarrassed at the number of times you gave up and had to have someone pick you up and carry you along? It doesn’t matter. You’re here. Bless God”.

It’s an invitation that’s open to all, regardless. But at the same time, it’s also a command.

Having arrived at the place of worship, will we now sit around and tell stories about the trip? Having gotten to the big city will we spend our time as tourists, visiting the bazaars, window shopping and trading? Having gotten Jerusalem checked off our list of things to do, will we immediately begin looking for another challenge, another holy place to visit? Will the Temple be a place to socialise or receive congratulations from others on our achievement? A place to share gossip and trade stories, a place to make business contacts that will improve our prospects back home? That’s not why you made the trip: Bless God. You are here because God blessed you. Now you bless God.

Bless God. It’s an invitation, but it’s also a command. Why do we need the command? Isn’t the invitation enough?

Well, there may be times for you and me when blessing God comes naturally. We’ll be keenly aware of the ways in which we’ve been blessed, and we’ll want to give God thanks for what he’s done for us and through us.

But it’s amazing how quickly and superficially that can change. It can change with our digestion, or with a bad day at work, or with the weather. Is it just me, or is it easier to feel thankful on a sunny day than on a wet day? That’s how fickle we are!

My inclination to bless God ebbs and flows like the tide, depending on the circumstances of my life. But is God any less deserving of thanks when I happen to be at a low ebb? I don’t think so!

So there are times, when against my inclination, I have to stir myself to thankfulness. Just as there are mornings when an athlete has to stir herself to get out of bed and do the training. We can’t let our feelings run the show, otherwise we won’t make progress. And some authors reckon that’s why the Psalmist exhorts his listeners to raise their hands in prayer. We’re psycho-somatic beings. What we do with our bodies affects how we think and feel.

If you’re not in the mood for worship, but you knuckle down to it anyway, it’s not long before you find yourself feeling more involved and engaged. If you drag yourself out of bed for that run in the morning, it’s not long before your mind gets over its reluctance and starts enjoying the experience.

And that word enjoyment is so important for us as we draw this series to a close.

Church life, institutional church life anyway, is filled with so many duties and responsibilities we can end up suffering from what Gerry Hughes calls ‘a hardening of the oughteries’. I ought to do this. I ought to do that.

But before church is about any of that, it’s about you and me coming into relationship with the living God, in whom we live and move and have our being. He is there to be known – that’s the gospel we proclaim.

Our 'chief end', according to the Reformers, is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.

One commentator puts it this way:

Glorify. Enjoy. There are other things involved in Christian discipleship. The Psalms of the Ascent have shown us some of them. But it is extremely important to know the one thing that overrides everything else. The main thing is not work for the Lord; it’s not suffering for the Lord; it’s not witnessing to the Lord; it’s not teaching Sunday School for the Lord; it’s not being responsible in the community for the sake of the Lord; it’s not keeping the Ten Commandments; not loving your neighbour; not observing the Golden Rule. “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him for ever.” Or, in the vocabulary of Psalm 134, it is to “Bless God”.

If we bless God with our time and our attention, our love and our obedience, we in turn will find a blessing. We’ll know more of what Jesus calls life in all its fullness. This is how things seem to work, in the economy of God. The one who gives, receives. The one who blesses, is blessed.

I loved anointing the children last week during our communion service. As they came up I called them each by name, and in a wee reminder of their baptism, I said “the Lord bless you and keep you” as I made a little cross on the back of their hands with that fragrant oil.

When our Isla came up she had that look on her wee face that I know she’ll grow out of in a few years time. It was that look of love and adoration a child wears in those glorious years when she’s innocent enough to think her daddy really is the best daddy in the world. I’m determined to enjoy it while it lasts.

And I was so in the moment, taking her by the hand, and anointing her with the oil, that I didn’t properly notice that as I was blessing her, she was busy kissing me on the arm in return. I only found it out later when a couple of folk said how sweet it was that she’d done that.

What a lovely reciprocity.

Keep that image with you as we leave the Psalms today.

The Father, reaching out in blessing. The child responding in gratitude and love.

For this we were made.

And for this, the up-and-down journey of discipleship is worth every step of the way.

(Quotations in purple from "A Long Obedience In The Same Direction" by Eugene Peterson)