"To all perfection I see a limit,
But your commands are boundless." - Ps. 119:96
Meditation and Memorization
Have you ever found yourself tearing up at a beautiful painting?
What about a sunrise?
No? I know one thing that universally brings tears to the eyes of male and female alike: witnessing the birth of a brand new baby. The joyful and utter amazement of the mother and father at just that first moment of fresh life will draw the moisture to the eyes in the sheer wonder of it all. It is a miracle of life in the face of great danger. It re-establishes for us that life is truly more powerful than death. If you’re there in person, you pick up those tiny fingers and see the perfection of every little fingernail, and those little toes all ready to begin life’s journey. Every cell of the human face unmarred by worry or sun exposure or age. Perfect little ears. Perfection!
I once thought I was alone in this: I get a lump in my throat when I hear a marching band in a parade. The better the band, the more I am apt to tear up. And oh, when I hear Consolation in D (Lizst) on the piano by a pianist with consummate skill, or hear the Hallelujah Chorus (Handel) or “Sheep May Safely Graze” (Bach) sung by the Robert Shaw Chorale, there I go. I have stood long in silent awe at a room-sized painting of a magnificent American landscape by Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902). I have run my fingers lovingly over a finely hand-crafted “old wood” hammered dulcimer made by a master mountain craftsman from the Appalachians—the smooth finish of perfection, the old-wood grain exhibiting its native beauty in all its richness, the tone resonating clear and long in the air — and I have wiped a tear and tried to still the swell in my heart and breath.
But the baby will grow up. It will sin and the work of life will rub off all the novelty of the miracle of life, and eventually, that person will die. The songs, too, will end. The parade passes by and is over. Lizst, Handel, Bach and Robert Shaw and all those excellent composers and musicians are no longer wielding their pens and instruments, for they are in the grave. Their gifts are limited in number for they can write no more. I must walk away from the painting, and I may not take home the dulcimer, for its cost is too high for me. All, all is limited. All have boundaries which we may not trespass. Certainly, the psalmist has expressed a truth that causes us to sigh in agreement. To all perfection that I see, there is a limit.
Complete? The Hebrew word used in this verse is a unique take on what we normally think of as perfection, but it gives us a little direction in understanding what the psalmist meant. It means “completeness”. “To all completion, I see a limit.” Our next key is this: “to all…I see“.
All these things that we experience in this earthly life is limited by is earthliness and by my sight. I cannot see and know or experiencne all things. Yet even if I could, each thing is still “of this world” and is marred by it. The perfection is real, let there be no mistake! But it is not all. Our post-wonder disappointment is very real. I remember the excellence with which my father (1929-1985) used to play the guitar. His favorites were bluegrass, hymns, and Germanic music (mostly waltzes). When I hear any of those songs that he used to play so perfectly and with such joy in the wonder of the music, I cry. But the very fact that these memories are limited by time and number and length makes them all the more precious.
There is a poignant sadness to our joy in this life. We sense that these wonderful things are incomplete. The wistfulness of our longing tells us that there is something more to this life than what we see. If this takes our breath away and then it passes or the moment is lost, then it speaks to us of something “beyond the veil” that is far grander than the thing itself.
Something more. The psalmist, in his deft economy of words, gives us something more in the second half of his final statement. “But Your commands are boundless!”
The psalmist does not leave us with aching poignancy. He exalts something without limiting boundaries, something that we can cling to that will never die, will never end, will never be less powerful or striking, will never be less true or impactful, and will never cease to call us to wonder with hope. What is this eternal thing? It is God’s “commands”.
Now, you and I, and the many young people I have known in my life which is many, do not cotton well to the idea of commands . “Commands” seems to mean that someone else is dictating something for me or to me. The pride in me does not like that. But “commands” means more than this unfortunately negative connotation gives us.
The Hebrew root is “mitsvah”. That may sound familiar to you (e.g., “bar (or bat) mitsvah” the coming of age ritual upon a Jewish boy (or girl’s) 12th or 13th year). Bar/Bat mitsvah literally means “son/daughter of the Law”. The rabbinic tradition understands this “son/daughter of” to mean “under” or “subject to”. So in effect, the ritual signifies the time at which the young person is deemed to be now “under the Law” or subject to the Law. We might say, in Gentile circles, that the young person has come to the “age of accountability.” This means they are now responsible for their moral choices before God, to choose or reject God as the object of their worship. From the root (the Law) comes the Hebrew word used in our verse: tsavah, meaning the charge or implications that come from the Law itself. God’s Word is to be acted upon! And the implications of obeying God’s word is what the psalmist means in this verse.
All of Psalm 119 is written to extol the implications of obeying God’s Word. The Law itself is eternal! Further, the implications of aligning ourselves with His Law is also eternal. When all of life’s earthbound perfections and glories have come and gone, there is one thing only that will have stood true and real and faithful. When all have betrayed me, when I have been hurt by the very loss of those things that I have loved, when I have had nothing else in this whole world to sustain my very life, God’s commands have been there for me and they have preserved my life.
The psalmist is not talking about the Mosaic Law or what in today’s day we might call the Holy Bible as a book. The psalmist is talking about the communication God has given to us directly from Himself to each of us of His love and of our Redemption. His love is the purpose and meaning that flows through the stone commandments or the pages of our printed Bibles. God’s love is eternal! God’s Word is LIFE.
The Word-Made-Flesh. That communication from God became the Word-Made-Flesh who dwelt among us, full of mercy, grace and truth. That Word is eternal. Jesus is eternal. He has no boundaries, no limitations, no decay about Him. He was, and is, and evermore shall be. He was Love, He is Love, and He always will be Love in all its perfection. He is the epitome of 1 Corinthians 13 (the Love Chapter). He is Almighty God, Judge and Merciful Savior. He is Sovereign Lord and Counseling Friend. He is the Sword of Truth that divides and He is the Peace that has broken down every wall. And yes, the Old Testament psalmist understood this. He aligned himself with the sciptures which foretold of this Messiah for humankind. His hope and faith in God for this Redemption is included in the words of this psalm.
In the text of my printed Bible, I find truth that fits every occasion, every joy and ever pain and every bewilderment. This is the meaning of the psalmist; God’s Word applies across all situations, all cultures, all people, all ages and generations, both genders, all circumstances, all strata of society. There is no place or person in all of Creation where His Word does not speak. “He established the earth and it endures. Your laws endure to this day, for all things serve you.” But it is the Spirit of the living God, earth’s Creator, that infuses every page. It is the Prince of Peace, who was with God at the earth’s founding, who is the subject of the text and is the overseer of my very soul. Jesus, our Jewish Messiah, is the Living text.
In this life, I find a limit to every good thing, even to the joy that I feel in the Scriptures. My body gets fatigued, and my mind, in its entropy, gets scattered and distracted. I can’t hold on to the beauty of my scriptural learning for long. It is not God’s Word that fades, but it is I who come to Him.
But this I do, with the psalmist: I keep God’s Word very close. I keep refilling my store of His truths by reading Him, studying Him, obeying Him, praying His Word back to Him, and loving Him with all my heart. Because one day, these text promises will be fulfilled and my body will no longer limit my joy. My printed Bible will be needed no more! I will stand in the presence of my Savior whom I have met with only in print and in Spirit and in the spirits of others who warm themselves by His fire. I will know my Savior in truth and in eternal reality and I will never have to walk away. Our Song of worship will never end.
Memorization:
In previous posts, I have used the “missing word” method of memorization (i.e., “fill in the blanks”).
Today, to summarize the entire eight verses, I employ a different method of memorization: the “Initials” method. The code you see below is simply the first letter of every word of the psalm. These provide hints to help you learn and remember the verse until you have it memorized without such helps.
89Y w, L, i e;
i s f i t h.
90Y f c t a g;
Y e t e a i e.
91Y l e t t d,
f a t s y.
92I y l h n b m d,
I w h p i m a,
93I w n f y p,
f b t y h p m l.
94S m, f I a y;
I h s o y p.
95T w a w t d m,
b I w p y s.
96T a p I s a l,
b y c a b.
- Psalm 119:89-96 (NIV)
WORSHIP With Me:
“Steven Curtis Chapman: My Redeemer Is Faithful and True (James Robison/LIFE Today), ny lifetodaytv, (YouTube; 3:59 min.)
© by ReadPsalm119.com. PHOTOS: ”Lamedh – vv89-96 ‘Complete’ – Rainbow on Kauai”; “Rainbow on Kauai” by ReadPsalm119:com.
