FWD: Morning Manna (Nov. 21); BP: Ps. 137; RBTTY: James 3; Ez. 16-17

 
Samuel D. High
sdhigh@aristotle.net

 

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-----Original Message-----
From: Apostle Tom <pressingon@hotmail.com>
Sent: Thu, 20 Nov 2008 18:58:11 -0600
To: <pressingon@hotmail.com>
Subject: Morning Manna (Nov. 21); BP: Ps. 137; RBTTY: James 3; Ez. 16-17
 

November 21                                                                                                                                                                 “On Hanging Harps and Weeping Willows”

 

“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down; yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.  We hanged our harps upon the willows thereof—for there they that carried us away captive required of us a song.  And, they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion.’  How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Psalm 137:1-4

     Even when you don’t feel like it, do it anyway.

     Today’s Manna is one of those anonymous, “mournful musings” to which we can relate in the psalms.  Although we may never actually “sit down by the (literal) rivers of Babylon” in modern-day Iraq, we still have our own versions of the place:

 

     A working environment that is oppressive and self-centered, where it’s “every man for himself.”  Relationships and a home environment that resembles a concentration camp more than they do a source/place of comfort.  A world gone mad, where sin and sensuality are the norm and those who promote them are even lauded and applauded (Rom. 1:32).

 

     Yes, “rivers of Babylon” and “weeping willows” are everywhere.

     And, it’s in these environs that we “hang our harps” and “required to sing a song.” 

     Why were the “harps hanged upon the willows”?  Simply because the ones who hanged them there didn’t have the strength or inclination to strum a melody upon them.  Although harp music is beautiful music and even angelic in nature, a broken heart and wounded spirit can only play melancholy melodies.

 

     So, we should not be surprised that the captive mourners asked the weeping willows to hold their instruments and the wind to play them a tune.

     But, oppressive “captors” care naught for our suffering.  With mockery in their voice, they cry “Play us a song—a happy song.  Sing us one of those songs you used to sing when you were young.  A top-tappin’, hand-clappin’, rousing song of praise!”

 

     “But I don’t feel like singing or playing,” you cry.

     “Do it anyway,” they taunt.

     Then quietly. . .almost imperceptibly. . .you feel your Unseen Friend brush up against you.  You feel His loving arm slip around your shoulders, drawing you close to His side.  And, you hear Him whisper:

     “Do it anyway.  I’ll help you.”

 

     So, you take down your harp.  You tighten the strings that have been silent so long.

     And, you begin to softly play and sing, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.  That saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost, but now am found; ‘twas blind, but now I see.  ‘Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear and Grace my fears relieved.  How precious did that Grace appear the hour I first believed.”

 

     Then, with increasing fervor and strength, your tempo picks up as your voice rises to Heaven, “When we’ve been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’ve first begun.”  Hallelujah!  Are you singing, Pilgrim?  Is your harp humming?  Sing of His Grace now—and never stop.