Lenten Scripture Reflection | Friday: Psalms 3-4; Jeremiah 50.1-28; James 2

From: Dan Roge

There’s a powerful theme throughout the story of God that has started to lose it’s punchiness for me – the idea of strength abiding within weakness. As I head further into my 30s, weakness has lost its luster. I often feel weak and, if given the choice, I would gladly replace that feeling with strength ten times out of ten. Today’s Psalm reading refreshed my vision, though. In Psalm 4, I see a person who has stopped running from their weakness, and has instead found a home within it.

The verse that stuck out to me was verse 5:

Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, 
And trust in the Lord.

In this verse, I see a person who has resigned themselves to their role. There are a million outcomes that the writer can’t manage throughout the day, but one supposes that she or he can “offer the sacrifices of righteousness”, and trust the Lord with the outcomes side of the equation. As a generally tired person these days, I’m drawn to the Gospel invitation to acknowledge where my capabilities end. What is difficult is trusting in the Lord’s ability (or willingness) to make up the difference. Here’s the good news though: regardless of whether I trust that he can or will make up the difference, the fact remains that, if I’m honest with myself, I still can’t manage outcomes. So with that in mind, I might as well watch to see what happens after I pass God the baton.

The end of the Psalm offers a peek into how someone who has embraced their limitations tends to feel at the end of a day:

In peace I will both lie down and sleep, 
For Thou alone, O Lord, dost make me to dwell in safety. 

My hope is that, by taking time to embrace my own limitations this Lenten season, I might be able to more frequently close my day praying like the Psalmist has closed his.

My name is Dan Roge, I’m a designer living in JP. I’m married to Genevieve Roge, and dad of James Roge. I love spending time in the woods, I’m not very competitive, I have a hard time with sad stories, and generally tend to read one whole article from The New Yorker every week.