One of the first things I did was to stick a label on the first page as a reference. It's a way I created of placing me in the Psalms each day of the month. And if I were to ever desire (although it's a bad way to be in poetry) I could read all 150 Psalms in one month. Today, March 4th, gave me Psalm 18-21 to choose from.
It may not make sense to get hooked (why would a fish actually bite a barbed worm when he had the entire lake to freely swim in!) but I believe that is the point of poetry. Let it catch you. Allow a phrase or a word or a sentiment to own you for a moment. Permit the life of another to speak to you. As David did to me this morning, halting me with the first seven words of Psalm 18:
I love You, O Lord, my strength.
I read the Psalms and other poetry as an admission of my hunger. None of the Psalms give answer to any problem I have to solve, no poetry ever will. But if I have a need of Presence in my chaos or Love in my ugliness or Comfort in my lostness, then seven words might just hook me.
I love You, O Lord, my strength.
I read these words and then stopped. These seven words constituted the entire written content of my morning "quiet time". The real quietness began as I bathed in them. Yes, I rested. Like a Sabbath rest.
Well, now is the time to scrape the frost off my windshield, take some Advil and layer up. Time to load the chainsaw, shovel and 4x4's. Time to hop out of the "quiet tub". But I do so with yet another scar from the hook in my mouth. I love You, O Lord, my strength.
