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"Psalm 23," I said to Rachel. "I was up off and on all night just before Bob died, reciting parts of the 23rd Psalm. I'd forgotten until just now. It was the first time I'd ever felt compelled to do anything like that. Then Sherry Rowe read the 23rd Psalm at Bob's memorial service, and I almost fell out. Do you remember?"
"Yup," Rachel said. "You know Bob had planned that whole service. He'd chosen that Psalm."
"I know," I said.
In the meantime, my brother and I received surprise packages from Amazon. My beloved, desperate to do something to help, had ordered each of us a copy of Psalm 91, by Peggy Joyce Ruth. It's a substantial book, and I was skeptical; how, I wondered, could anyone write so much about one little Psalm?
Y'all. I'll write a further review once I've completely finished, but I love this book! Ruth dissects the scriptures in an insightful, but not tiresome, way. Her basic premise is that we can and should pray God's Word (in this case, Psalm 91)--especially aloud--in order to claim God's promises to us.
And I've come to realize: I don't have "control issues." I have a calling from my Heavenly Father to--when burdened--pray scripture on behalf of those for whom I'm burdened. I'm not supposed to take my burden, my passion, to the pit. I'm supposed to take it to the throne of God. And I'm supposed to do it by praying scripture, over and over again, until my burden lifts.
I'm so thankful I was blogging this time last year. I've gone back, and can you believe it?: God called me to pray Psalm 23 for Bob on February 5, 2011, in the wee hours of the morning. He called me to pray Psalm 91 for my brother on February 5, 2012. It's not a coincidence. It's a sign!
I have one more thing to tell you. Thank you for hanging in there with me.
(To be continued...)