For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.
He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall never be shaken.
How long will you assail a person, will you batter your victim, all of you, as you would a leaning wall, a tottering fence?
Their only plan is to bring down a person of prominence. They take pleasure in falsehood; they bless with their mouths, but inwardly they curse. Selah
For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.
Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Selah
Those of low estate are but a breath, those of high estate are a delusion; in the balances they go up; they are together lighter than a breath.
Put no confidence in extortion, and set no vain hopes on robbery; if riches increase, do not set your heart on them.
Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God,
and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord. For you repay to all according to their work.
Twice in this passage, it speaks of a soul waiting in silence upon God – for hope and for salvation. I find this passage speaks to a place I am in today. When I think of silence, my sci-fi mind goes to the silence of space – the silence that is caused by the absence of air for sound waves to travel. Few space films capture this accurately, but its always jarring (but also a bit refreshing) to see a film that does it right.
There’s another silence that is just as strong and jarring. The silence of loss. The silence that comes with a final breath, a final touch, a last word, a closing look. This silence is absolute and deep. Through my life I have experienced this silence many times over – both in my personal life as well as a pastor. The silence and stillness that will never fully go away.
Today, I think of this silence for the loss of a woman very dear to me in my life and even more so to her family. Mrs S was basically my second mother. Her and Mr S’s son was my best friend growing up and it probably felt like T and I had two homes – he was always welcome at our home and I was always welcomed in his.
Mrs S was always the most gracious woman (even when she was reminding me of a house rule that wearing hats was not allowed in the house). She put up with battles with Star Wars toys throughout the house, cleaned up cuts and bruises from backyard football games, and didn’t kill T and I when we lost a frog in their downstairs shag carpet that we caught in the backyard. But I will never forget her kindness in things she shared with me when T and I graduated from high school. The things she noticed and witnessed were not things I had seen in myself and it was a blessing to hear her share that with me. (Even as T and I confessed to a denting of their golf cart that we didn’t fess up to until that night).
In the silence of loss, I lift this dear family before you God, giving thanks for Mrs S’ life. Giving thanks for a woman who was a blessing to many and was willing to “adopt” another son along the way and in whose life she made a difference. God, in the silence of loss, bring hope and assurance of the salvation that is in you.