From Age to Age

So, tomorrow morning when I awaken to the first day of orientation week, I'll have turned 52. Part of me wonders if I'll simply be like a deck of playing cards, or the number of weeks in a year.

Perhaps this reluctance relates to the Psalms. Psalm 51 has been a favorite for many years: Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. (There's a lovely Brahms motet set to this text.) But when I consider Psalm 52, oh dear! You tyrant, why do you boast of wickedness against the godly all day long? / You plot ruin; your tongue is like a sharpened razor, O worker of deception.

I'm happy to say that near the end of the psalm, a gentler image emerges: But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever.

May this coming year be filled with reminders that a willingness to trust is sweet, and that grace is never far away.