I finally chose my Lenten memory work. I’m adding a Psalm from Evening Prayer (Book of Common Prayer, p.28) that seems appropriate today. I wanted a thanksgiving Psalm, but segued into praise and petition:
Deus misereatur. Psalm lxvii.
GOD be merciful unto us, and bless us, * and show us the
light of his countenance, and be merciful unto us;
That thy way may be known upon earth, * thy saving
health among all nations.
Let the peoples praise thee, O God; * yea, let all the
peoples praise thee.
O let the nations rejoice and be glad; * for thou shalt
judge the folk righteously, and govern the nations upon
earth.
Let the peoples praise thee, O God; * yea, let all the
peoples praise thee.
Then shall the earth bring forth her increase; * and God,
even our own God, shall give us his blessing.
God shall bless us; * and all the ends of the world shall
fear him.
My memory library is growing, and I hold the words and images close, housed by my heart and mindful in my mind, sensed by my soul.
For we are marvelous creatures, you and I, made by a gracious (and marvelous) God, placing us in this world after creating it, after setting the moon and stars in motion, after the mountains and the rivers, after even the animals and the seas. The earth was made for us, to care for and to enjoy. We need only thank Him, obey His commandments, love one another especially, and be fruitful and multiply.
And so I enter my memory library each morning and each evening, making sure I still have other words in residence: Psalm 139, the Lenten collect, Psalm 100 from Morning Prayer… and others I must find hidden on a shelf somewhere.
In this way I bracket my day with Christ, sending an Our Father upwards from time to time, calling his name, breathing Jesus. I border my hours with golden light, the light of His countenance. It is a joyful and miraculous gift to do this, a grateful grace for my life, a song to the Shepherd of my soul.
And when my body no longer obeys my desires, when I trip and fall, when I take the wrong path, or illness forces me to silence and sitting, I will enter my library and find the words to fill me with Christ.
We are creatures of memory. We learn from our history, or should. We do the best we can to be honest in reporting what happened before and what must come after, repenting and turning, listening and laughing, and reweaving our world with our Father’s love.
And now I must work on this first phrase, “God be merciful to us and bless us, and show us the light of his countenance…”
Deo Gratias.
Christine Sunderland
Christine Sunderland 