Scripture Reflections

As we moved to Kazakhstan, in the bus on the way to our new apartment from the airport, I was struck by an unexpected grief. We were grieving the loss of the dear friends and family we had said goodbye to as we headed to the airport in Virginia. We were grieving the loss of our home and neighborhood, the beauty and familiarity of our home country. These were weighty griefs, but they were also expected; indeed, we had begun grieving those losses long before we actually left! But looking out of the window of that crowded bus, I was overwhelmed by a new and quite unexpected grief. Checking to make sure the older boys were with Asher and didn’t look too terrified, watching the woman beside me wrap her scarf around Ethan’s bare head and listening to, but not understanding, her words of explanation and consternation, it came over me: I didn’t know how I would experience the presence of the Lord in this place.
 
It was then I realized a bit more fully what a gift Incarnation was to us: meeting with you all for worship, we had truly been drawn into the Father’s presence and ministered to through his Word and sacraments. The gift of familiarity with creation also struck me in a new way. When everything’s unfamiliar, especially when it feels hostile—as a strange city you hope to make your home must always feel, to one degree or another—it’s harder to notice individual things, like the plants and creatures that make up the fullness of the beauty of the Lord’s handiwork in this place. I knew there were other believers here, brothers and sisters who had already met us at the airport with such generous kindness; I knew the Lord had made this place even as he made our home state; and above all I knew, as you know, that the Lord is in all places—his presence fills the earth! And yet I was overwhelmed. I had experienced the truth and goodness of the Lord’s presence with people and in places that we had left far behind; where and with whom would I experience his presence here? 
 
In Psalm 84, a psalm we have often sung in worship the last few months (Together with you—we share your order of service every week, and rejoice to join you from afar!), the psalmist describes a grief and longing for the presence of the Lord, and thanks be to God, he leads us from grief to glory! From an exile of some sort, he voices his longing for Jerusalem and the temple, describes the remembered beauty and joy, and even seems to envy the birds who are free to fly and make their home there. Then he reminds himself and us of the truth of the Lord’s presence with each of his people, and his faithfulness to draw us to himself (verses 5-7): 
 
Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
    in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
As they go through the Valley of Baca
    they make it a place of springs;
    the early rain also covers it with pools.
 They go from strength to strength;
    each one appears before God in Zion.
 
Here the psalmist not only reminds himself and us of the Lord’s presence with his people wherever they are, he also points us to what we are truly longing for: to appear before God in Zion! To go back to Virginia and worship again with you all would not actually satisfy my longing (though it would be wonderful!). My hope—and yours, whatever you are longing for—is not in going back, but in going forward, going “further up and further in!” Into the presence of the Lord through prayer, meditation on Scripture, and gathering with the saints for weekly worship, and then—and then!!—into his presence, face to face, in the heavenly City come down to earth. To use another of the songs we’ve been singing together:
 
Come out of sadness,
From wherever you've been.
Come broken hearted,
Let rescue begin.
Come find your mercy,
Oh, sinner come kneel;
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can't heal.
 
Hannah