SVLC DEVOTION FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2023

When I was in high school, there was a popular TV show. It was back before on-demand streaming TV, when everyone had to wait to watch the new episode on a Thursday night at 8 p.m. CST. And then, the next day at school, five of us friends would all sit at the same lunch table, and we would praise all the things we loved about the episode. We’d praise the one-liners, praise the character development, praise the plot twists and unexpected ending. What we were doing wasn’t something additional to the show’s enjoyment. It was the pinnacle of it: the completion. That’s what makes binge watching shows on your own only half-fulfilling. You don’t have anyone to talk about it with. You’re missing the praise.

Praising is a fully human, communal activity—the mountaintop of joy. But, like every other mountaintop experience, it doesn’t last. It’s not that the qualities of the praiseworthy thing have vanished. It is, rather, that our enjoyment doesn’t last. The lively lunchroom banter gives way to fifth-period algebra. For something that is so vital for making us fully human, it’s strange that it doesn’t last. Like a lot of things in this mortal life, this life is a series of let-downs—fading memories, fleeting joys, ephemeral praise. It’s over before it even started. So, is this all there is? Some say so. Some say the universe started by accident, by chance, and one day it will all just burn out. But, it seems strange, doesn’t it, that we should be so prone to praise an accident?

Another way to respond to this “problem of praise” is to affirm that praise does, indeed, point to our purpose. But what we’re experiencing now is like the sound of an orchestra tuning their instruments before the concert starts: chaotic, but beautiful, because it points to something greater. And the fleeting nature of our praise shows us that we are not yet making the music we were meant to make. This is the tuning-up time, the prelude to a greater concert to come.

That’s how the poets who penned the book of Psalms saw it. They believed that praising is our purpose and that praising our Creator will be the fulfillment of our deepest longing, our greatest joy. And, to miss out on that, to be left out, to not have a place at the lunch table, or a seat at the concert—that would be the greatest loss. That would be hell. And so, when the psalmist prompts his own soul to bless the LORD, to remember all the LORD’s benefits, he knows that praising the Creator will be the fulfillment of his greatest joy. And we know that when the risen Jesus returns—Jesus who once suffered that hell for us on the cross—when He returns to raise the dead and make all things new, then comes the concert, enduring joy, ceaseless praise.

And that’s just the beginning.

WE PRAY: Dear Father, open my lips that my mouth may declare Your praise. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.

This Daily Devotion was written by Rev. Dr. Michael Zeigler, Speaker of The Lutheran Hour.

Reflection Questions:

1. Name a person, place, or activity you find praiseworthy. What makes him/her/it so?

2. Read Psalm 103 aloud. What do you think is an appropriate tone of voice for this poem? How would you express it with your voice? Practice it, then read it aloud for someone using that tone. What stood out to them in hearing it?