Writing a Psalm

Posted on September 29, 2021 by Lynn

I was motivated after Sunday’s sermon on Worship to write my own Psalm. As a writer, I enjoy a writing challenge, so I thought, “How hard can it be?” First though, I wanted to do a bit of a word and topic study on what a psalm is before I took on the writing task of creating my own.

A psalm is defined as a song or hymn used for worship. “Psalm” is derived from the Greek translation, ψαλμοί (psalmoi), meaning “instrumental music” and, by extension, “the words accompanying the music”. That means that it is not merely a poetic challenge, but must have the element of being able to be put to music, and then sung or recited in a worship setting.

There are several types of psalms: Hymns, that are generally praising God for Who He is and for His Creation. Laments, either communal or individual, that describe suffering of some sort and beseeching the Almighty to intervene on the group or individual’s behalf to remove the cause of suffering. Thanksgiving psalms, thank God for His provision, His intervention during times of struggle, His Divinity, His Sovereignty etc. etc. There are other types of psalms, some that defy specific classification in Scripture, but for my purposes of writing my own psalm, I focused my attention on those mentioned.

I have read through the Book of Psalms numerous times, am familiar with many, even memorized a few. Popular Christian musicians have often put a Psalm to music taking creative license with the words to fit the melody like Chris Tomlin’s “Psalm 100” or Brian Doerksen’s “I Lift My Eyes Up (Psalm 121). One of my personal favourites is Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant’s collaboration on Psalm 119:105 “Thy Word”. I applaud the talents of those who can create worship music for us today based on the psalms!

A psalm inspires worship. It inspires reverence for God. It is meant to be an act of worship, just in the writing of it. This writing challenge was going to be more difficult than I thought and I felt extremely inadequate for the task. Doing a bit more research on psalm writing I discovered that Old Testament poetry doesn’t use rhyme and meter but does use synonymous, antithetical, and synthetic parallelism. As an English major, I was excited to learn more. https://www.britannica.com/topic/biblical-literature/Psalms#ref1096330

“Synonymous parallelism involves the repetition in the second part of what has already been expressed in the first, while simply varying the words.” For example: Psalm 38:1 “Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath.”

“In antithetic parallelism the second part presents the same idea as the first by way of contrast or negation.” For example: Psalm 1:6 “For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.”

“Synthetic parallelism involves the completion or expansion of the idea of the first part in the second part.” For example: Psalm 42:1 “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.” Synthetic parallelism also allows for many variations, one of which is “staircase” parallelism and consists of a series of parts or lines that build up to a conclusion. For example: Psalm 29:1-2 “Ascribe to the Lord, you heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name; worship the Lord in the splendour of his holiness.”

I now had the poetic structure needed to “build” my psalm but I still needed the content. The single, most important aspect of writing a psalm is it must be experiential. Most of the Psalms in scripture are written from a personal perspective experiencing God through His Creation, through joyous times or times of hardship. The writers are honest, at times raw with emotion. Psalm 130:1-2 “Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; Lord hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.” or Psalm 40:1-2 “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”

I had to decide if I would write a lament or a psalm of praise. I decided the content needed to reflect the season of life I am living right now and that would determine my psalm choice.

So I began to write…

Stay tuned…

This may take awhile.

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A Quiet Time Do Over

Posted on September 13, 2021 by Lynn

It has become my routine.  Get up, make the bed, dress, and settle in my little corner of my bedroom and have my morning devotions.  My comfy chair is antique, a Banff Springs hotel cast off that I got on an online bidding site.  The circular table to the side of my chair is covered with family pictures of my three adult children when they were babies, my five grandchildren, with two of them wearing printed t-shirts, “My grandma is my hero”.  They honoured me with having these shirts made when I was going through treatments for endometrial cancer in 2019.  There is a picture of my husband holding our infant son, taken only a few months after our adoption of him was finalized.  A recent group picture of all three of our kids with their spouses, with their children posing in front of a big tree at our favourite camping site in British Columbia. The photo always makes me smile and brings back summer memories.  In front of the pictures laying on the table is my journal, a pen, highlighter pens, a daily devotional book and my Bible.  I switch devotional books each year; this year I am reading through Oswald Chamber’s “My Utmost for His Highest” for the fifth or sixth time.  The dormer type window beside my chair lets in the early morning light, and I pick up my pen to write in my journal.  I have written in journals for close to forty years.  They are filled with private thoughts, daily happenings, and God stories.  I now have over twenty of these filled-up journals in a file box.  Not sure what I will do with them. 

I chew on my pen, before I begin to write how I spent my weekend.  It was okay.  Not much to write about really.  Needing some inspiration, I turn back several pages in my journal and read about how memorable my birthday weekend was in August.  My kids had made me a special dinner.  My son, who loves to cook, made chicken fettuccine alfredo and mussels cooked in a tomato, white wine sauce.  Yum!  My younger daughter made individual strawberry shortcakes, and my oldest daughter, made a sweet broccoli salad.  My mouth waters recalling the tastes of each dish.  I giggle to myself, thinking about my grandbabies, sitting on my lap, with their sticky fingers, runny noses, and bear hugs aplenty.  It was such a precious time. My thoughts are flooded with precious recollections from that day.  I scowl at the few sentences I’ve jotted down listing how the weather was over this past weekend.  Pretty mundane stuff.  Guess not every weekend can be stellar.    

Feeling a little defeated, I read from my devotional, but my thoughts still scramble back to my birthday weekend celebrations.  I barely recall what I’m reading.  Flustered, I try to refocus on Oswald’s daily dose of wisdom.  Today, I admit, his words do not seem to impact me as they normally do.  I open my Bible.  I am immersed in Ezekiel.  The book of Ezekiel pronounces judgement on Israel and surrounding nations, but also provides by way of visions, the restoration of God’s people, and a prophetic look into the future after Christ’s return at the end times.  I know the intro to the Book but I will admit, I find myself reading half-heartedly the words of the prophet, not sure if his teachings apply to me at all.  It is taxing trying to concentrate on this particular book because I’m not as interested in it as I am with other parts of Scripture.  However, it follows a reading schedule I’m trying to adhere to read through the Bible in a year, so I press on.  Once again, my mind wanders.  Perhaps I’ll be more attentive reading the book of Daniel once I’ve finished slogging through Ezekiel.  I put a bookmark in my Bible and prepare for prayer time.

I am completely distracted now.  An errant spider web in the corner has caught my eye.  Immediately I feel the need to attend to dusting that cobweb aside.  I start to berate myself for not being a better housekeeper.  Surely, there must be other webs in the corners that I haven’t noticed before.  It requires a thorough inspection, and yet, I can’t interrupt my quiet time.  It’s prayer time!  Making a promise to myself to grab my dust cloth the instant I’m through, I close my eyes, but that pesky spider web is in my mind’s eye now and I can’t let it go. 

“Lord,” I say out loud, “help me.”

I am always amazed how patient the Lord is with me.  This morning’s “quiet time” has been anything but quiet.  I realize quickly that my heart is being pulled in many different directions.  My thoughts are scattered, I’m distracted, and I’m more intent on finishing my “routine” than being fully engaged in my daily dialogue with God.  I need a reboot, a do-over this morning. 

“Forgive me, Lord.” 

I suddenly recall the weekend’s snippets of life that I had thought not even worthy of note before, but now seem special and memorable.  A phone call from a dear friend.  A drive in the country with my husband and spotting a moose standing tall by the side of the road.  A sunrise, a sunset, the sound of rain on the roof lulling me to sleep on Saturday night.  Texts throughout the day from my children.  Smiling at a picture posted on social media of my young grandsons meeting their newest baby cousin. Gathering with my church family for worship on Sunday morning.  Smiles, hugs, waves.  A feeling of belonging.  Going home, enjoying a meal, and having a cup of hot chai tea.  Spending some alone time immersed in a good book.  Watching a few original Star Trek episodes Sunday evening and making my husband laugh when I recite the dialogue word for word during the “Trouble with Tribbles” episode.  I praise God for the little, ordinary things I take for granted.  The everyday events, the mundane becoming memorable.   

I pick up “My Utmost for His Highest” and this time I carefully read through the devotion, asking God to give me insight that I did not have on first reading.  The message takes on new meaning.  The weekend events combined with the wisdom of Oswald, causes me to add several paragraphs to my journal entry.

When I pick up my Bible, I ask God to illuminate the message and meaning He would have me glean from the Book of Ezekiel.  How can I apply this prophetic Book to my own life?  A particular line almost seems to stand out from the page.  With the help of the Holy Spirit, I gain a clearer understanding of what I am reading.  I add the verse into my journal and underline the passage in my Bible with my highlighter pen. 

When I bow my head this time in prayer, although the industrious spider’s web still attempts to distract me, I can maintain focus.  My conversation with the Lord is lengthy, I forget time.  When I rise from my prayer corner, I feel rejuvenated for the day.  I speculate excitedly about the new memories I will make during the day.

But first…

I grab my dust cloth. 

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Running the Race Marked Out for Me

Posted on September 3, 2021 by Lynn

When I was in Grade 6, I loved to run the 4 by 100 race. It meant running 400 metres which was 2 times around our track at school. Although the object, according to my P.E. Teacher, was to win the race, I just wasn’t fast enough to beat the other competitors around the track. Instead, I had the mindset that slow and steady wins the race, and I was so thankful to get a “Participant” ribbon when I crossed the finish line, usually dead last.

When I was in high school, there was more pressure for me to compete and focus on winning rather than just competing. I tried different sports, but I just didn’t have the natural abilities or the competitive spirit needed to place first, second, or third on the podium. I was content being part of a team mostly cheering from the sidelines and encouraging my team mates in their pursuit of excellence on the sports field.

As an adult I have discovered a more competitive streak in me, especially when it comes to board games, and mini-golf. Just ask my son-in-law, Matt. Still, I don’t think I’m a poor sport if I lose. I just like winning better.

Over the past few months, I have been able to get back to the gym after a long hiatus. Truth be told, I’ve never really liked going to the gym. My husband loves to press weights, and I go with him to keep him company. While he’s power lifting, I walk around the indoor track at the sports complex we go to in Cochrane.

It has been a struggle to get into shape after a cancer battle, and then Covid hit and the gyms were shut down for well over a year. A lack of motivation especially hampered my return to the walking track. I am the queen of excuses, but my husband was determined to get back to the weight room once the gyms reopened, and I dutifully followed along. The first time at the track, I could barely get around the circuit two times. It was pitiful. It was also shocking. I never realized how run down my body was physically. I had been told by my doctors that recovery from surgery and cancer treatments would be a long road and could take a couple of years or more. Well, I’ve passed the two year mark, and I still have a few nagging, lasting side effects that tend to aggravate more than slow me down. Still, I was certain that once the treatments were behind me, I’d bounce back rather quickly.

I was wrong.

My second trip to the track, I was lapped by a man with a walker. I nearly burst into tears; I was so discouraged and humiliated. I barely spoke to my sweet husband that day, irrationally blaming him for my distress. It was easier to lay a guilt trip on him than face the fact that I was woefully out of shape and I lacked the desire and discipline to change.

My husband went to the gym alone the next day. I sat at home and brooded over the unfairness of life and threw a pity party for myself. Of course, what normally happens when I have those kinds of days, I cry out to God for help. Like a child, throwing a temper tantrum, I lay my requests (complaints) before God demanding His attention, and then proceed to hold my breath until He responds (gives in to my demands).

I should know better.

The patience of my Heavenly Father is overwhelming. He doesn’t scold me, or ignore me (as I deserve in this case) He leads me to Scripture and His Words leap off the page at me.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

That phrase, “going into strict training” makes me cringe.

“So what you’re telling me, Lord, laying exegesis aside, is that this getting into shape process is going to take some time and hard work.”

I can almost hear an audible, exasperated sigh from Heaven.

The next day, I reluctantly head to the gym. My husband, bless his heart, says I am walking a little faster from the car to the door of the sports complex. I resist the temptation to stick my tongue out at him. He heads towards the weight room and I head to the track. Thankfully, there are no runners or elderly men with walkers who impede my slow but steady pace around the circuit. I listen to worship music, trying to walk in time to the beat of each song. I really like “Amazing Grace” (for obvious reasons).

After I have done three laps, I feel a dewy, glow on my brow. (Polite talk for: I’ve broken out in a sweat), and my knees and ankles start to complain. Still, I chug on like the “Little Engine That Could”, and determinedly walk two more laps. It is only through sheer will power that I complete the laps, which according to my step counter is a little over two kilometres of walking. I feel like I’ve just completed the Boston Marathon!

That was two months ago, and I now walk between ten to fifteen laps and I’ve added cycling to my workout routine. I plan on adding a bit of weight training, just to keep my Sweetie company. On September 19th, I’ve signed up once again for the Terry Fox Marathon of Hope – “One Day, My Way” walk/run. Due to Covid-19 restrictions we can’t do a group event but runners/walkers must fundraise and set an individual goal that goes along with the theme: “Try Like Terry” (#TryLikeTerry). The Terry Fox Foundation has for the last 41 years, been raising money to go towards cancer research to find a cure for cancer in all its insidious forms. It is a cause that is near and dear to my heart. For those of you who do not know Terry’s story and accomplishments, I invite you to read a tribute I wrote several years ago: “Terry Fox – A Great Canadian”

I’ve been training hard for the day. I’ve got my new “2021 Terry’s Team” t-shirt, given to participants who are cancer survivors, and I have set some personal goals of how many steps I want to walk that day. The idea is to push my physical fitness boundaries a little more each day leading up to the “marathon”, and my competitive nature is starting to come into play now. I like to see the step counter count a few more steps each day to my total…

At least I’m not getting lapped anymore by seniors with walkers 🙂

I would appreciate your prayers and support if you are able to donate to the cause. Just click on the link:

Lynn Dove’s “Try Like Terry” Sponsor Page

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