Reflection: Placed in Eternal Plans

“What weighty purposes and puzzling plans you have, mighty God.

Like rare treasure they’re altogether immeasurable.

I’m trying to recollect them.

Your Spirit reminds me of them night and day.”

Author’s paraphrase of Psalm 139:17-18

One of the wonderful things about music is how it gets under your skin. Like a puppy, it dogs you all day. It gets in your brain on repeat…so much so that your first conscious thought in the morning is …THAT TUNE! Musicians that serve the church, what a gig! A competent choirmaster or an astute songwriter knows the weight of their responsibility—not just to ground deep truths in singable tunes but catchy ones that ‘preach’ to the congregation night and day.

David’s muse at this point in the psalm is the providence of God, and it gets right under his poet’s skin. He’s chewing on it at the meal table. His fingers are thrumming it on the arm of his throne. He’s clucking it to his kids. He daydreams, night dreams…and wakes to it in the morning: God’s sovereign, sustaining, strong, purposeful, persistent, personal, penetrating, profound providence!

The poet William Cowper teased out this tangle of a topic and called it, “Light Shining out of Darkness.” The poem thankfully made its way into hymnals. Maybe it’ll make its way into your dreams: listen to it here in the song ‘God Moves in a Mysterious Way’ by Graham Kendrick.

Prayer:

Pray or sing the poem/song “Light Shining out of Darkness”/”God Moves in a Mysterious Way”

God moves in a mysterious way,

His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sov’reign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace;

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding ev’ry hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flow’r.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan his work in vain;

God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.