Psalm 121:1-8 · Psalm 121
This Is Our Song
Psalm 121:1-8
Sermon
by Michael J. Anton
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You are pilgrims. I am a pilgrim. This is our song: "I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from?"

Like all pilgrims, I’m on a journey. It’s a very important trip. It’s not just a quickie weekend jaunt, in and out of a motel. It’s more than an overnight camp out. It’s even longer than a sweepstakes winning tour of the world. I’m on a journey every day of my life; life is that kind of trip.

The trip is sometimes a fearful and anxious one. I lift my eyes to find help somewhere in those hills.

Aahhh, a bright neon sign beckoning me to come in. Surely there I will find rest for my spirit. There will be people there who will welcome me and take me into the warmth of their company. I will feel good inside, knowing someone cares. I run with my tie flying and burst into the door. But it’s dark inside; I can hardly discern the human figures who sit huddled together in little pockets, gesturing and laughing raucously as though each little group has a better joke to tell than the other. I am seated politely but solemnly. I sit and mesmerize myself with the flickers of the strobe light on the ceiling. I spend time and money, but I leave empty and alone.

Another flickering neon - another chance. I huff and puff my way through the crowds, leaping the curbs until I reach my destination - as the neon gases cool for the night - closed. No room in the inn again.

I look to another hill - the imposing structure of the stock exchange rising out of the concrete toward heaven. I’ll invest my wealth and make more and retire earlier and take my ease and forget my cares. I buy my stock papers and I am happy, I am safe. The value of the stocks plummets to an all-time low. I am unhappy; I am not safe any longer.

But there are more hills. I find the billboards blaring out the undisputed facts that if I really want to make it on this trip, I have to drink the right cola, brush with the right paste, pour the proper conditioner into my locks, smear my face with the best creams, purchase the most expensive brand of shoes. I frantically strip the store shelves of all these essentials and apply them to my body in one sweeping motion. I smell good, I look "in" and I feel empty.

It’s all a laughable farce. The hills are gorgeous and alluring. But they don’t make me feel any better; they don’t answer my cry for help.

I run headlong through the valleys between the hills until it hits me. What’s behind those hills? Is there anything or anyone beyond that horizon? I never thought to look there before. The hills are so impressive and so overwhelming I forgot there might be something else. After all, this is the 20th century. The earth isn’t flat. I won’t fall off the edge if I climb over the hills and take a peek. It’s worth a look anyway; I can’t lose anything.

"Help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth." Oh! So this is what I find on the other side of the hills - God. It’s been a long time. I remember hearing about God in the Sunday school stories. Yeh, I had some good times in those days. Had some good teachers; they really made those stories interesting. Funny thing about those days. Life was fun. I really didn’t have too many cares at all. But you have to grow up sometime, and I guess I left that God-stuff behind back there.

Oh, I still enjoy a good debate at a party when the subject of religion comes around, as it always does. Hmm, funny thing about that. I guess a lot of people ARE on this journey with me. I like to argue about evolution and the Bible and miracles, especially that wild one about God opening and closing the Red Sea. Wow! That’s a winner. Great for a good debate anyway. Funny thing about that. People really do like to talk about that stuff. I guess I do, too, but I don’t lose any sleep over it.

"May he not suffer your foot to slip, may he who keeps you not slumber! Behold, he who keeps Israel does neither slumber nor sleep." Now, that’s the kind of God I would like: somebody who doesn’t go to sleep on me. My friends keep letting me down; they go to sleep at the switch after making such big promises to me. My girlfriend made all these glorious commitments; so we married and settled down. But she lets me down. Come to think of it, I have to admit I let myself down a lot, too, I sleep a lot. I sleep on the job. I sleep when my children are trying to talk to me. I’m a sleepy pilgrim.

I need help. I need a God who won’t go to sleep on me. Man, as much help as I need, I really need a God who will stay with me without getting tired or frustrated or losing his patience and pooping out.

"The Lord is your keeper and shade; he defends your right hand. The sun shall not smite you by day, nor the moon by night." It does get awfully hot on this trip. There are pressures, so many pressures bearing down. If I don’t produce on my job, I’m cut. If I don’t act like a half-decent father, I get static. If I don’t participate in my community like a model citizen, I get the cold shoulder. And I get guilty. I get scared.

I run from hill to hill and the lights go off, and it’s cold outside. It’s hot and then it’s cold, off and on, off and on; the pressure drives me wild. And I keep running, looking for help, looking for some protection, some way to cope with the heat and the cold. Some way out or some way in, anything to find some rest, some peace, some meaning in my pilgrim chase.

"The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life." Oh boy, I need some assurance, some confidence he is really looking out for me. That someone bigger really cares, that someone has his hands around my life. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this chase, this frantic search for some satisfaction, some little ounce of joy. And a God to keep me from evil, a God to take this load of guilt off my back. I can’t carry it too many more miles; it eats at me.

I can feel my failures. I don’t do my job like I want to. I yell at my kids too much. I say insensitive things to sensitive people without thinking. I fight inwardly with my boss and take it out on my wife. I sit in a pew and think about the deer that’s getting away. I’m content to let George do it - but it all gnaws at me. I need relief. I need someone else to carry all this for me, and I don’t know anyone strong enough to do it. But I need it.

"He will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore." This is fantastic! Just fantastic! To be able to know that God is going to watch and protect my every step today, tomorrow and forever. But it’s just too good to be true. Why should there be a God who cares that much about me, one lonely pilgrim, and a lowly pilgrim at that. I certainly haven’t done anything to deserve that consideration.

Wait a minute. I thought I had covered all the hills, but look over there. The dark fog is lifting, or is it my eyesight improving? I walk slowly to the foot of this ominous hill, and I find three crosses. But everyone’s attention is glued on the center cross.

I see a sign, "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." And look at the people gathered here. I remember these guys from Sunday school. There’s Peter - boy, he sure doesn’t deserve to be here. I remember how he denied even knowing Jesus; then like a scared rabbit he took off. And I recall how the rest of his disciples cut out like chickens when the big night came. Funny how this stuff all comes back to me. Didn’t seem to mean too much then, but maybe it means more than I thought.

And look how Jesus is accepting these guys. Well, if he can take them in, why not me? I’m no worse than they were. Maybe not any better either, but by no means any worse.

O God, is my pilgrim trip over? Have I finally found what I need? Out here on this last hill? O God, it sounds so good, this song I’ve heard. The words send shivers up and down. But God, how can I acccept all this? How can I really believe it’s for me? What? Remember something else from those happy days in Sunday school?

"Anyone who does not enter the kingdom of God just like a little child cannot get in?" God, you mean it’s just that simple - the simple uncomplicated faith of a youngster? I just take you at your Word and leave the driving to you?

Lord, I’ve been chasing all over these hills and I haven’t found my answer - I just keep running. But I never did really see this last hill. I never did know what was beyond all those other hills. Oh, God, I do believe, I want to believe, and please help the part of me that doesn’t want to believe.

Fellow pilgrims, this is our song: "I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? Help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth." Alleluia! Amen.

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., Snoring Through Sermons, by Michael J. Anton

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