Years ago when the boys were young and the days of parenting were long and exhausting, a phrase entered my mind one morning as I slowly swept away the drowsy cobwebs in my mind: “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” I sat on the edge of my bed repeating the words.
I could faintly recall learning them as a child…whether in a Sunday school song or a weekly memory verse, I couldn’t remember. Likely both. These words from Psalm 118 contain an acknowledgement and declaration that provided a surprisingly effective reorientation before beginning my day. And it’s a daily, sometimes hourly, reorientation that I continue to need.
Because I confess, many days of late don’t seem like days the Lord has made. They feel like days created in darkness, steeped in chaos, running amok with anger and violence, filled with accusation and name calling, and absent of joy or gladness or hope.
It can be a struggle to believe that God remains in control when much of the evidence seems to the contrary.
As I watch the morning’s news, I am aware of the pull toward contempt rather than love.
As I answer the same questions from my aging mother over and over, I feel drawn to despair instead of joy.
“This is the day that the Lord has made…” I remind myself.
As I drive on an interstate packed with alarmingly agitated drivers, I am filled with unrest, not peace.
As I am cut off by someone in the grocery store check-out line, I silently offer judgment rather than exercise patience.
“This is the day that the Lord has made…” I remind myself.
As I read through comments on social media posts, I find myself ensnared by hatred, not anchored in kindness.
As another story of a church leadership scandal reaches my ears, I am grieved by evil in spaces meant to contain goodness.
“This is the day that the Lord has made…” I remind myself.
As a friend’s desertion due to political differences stings anew, I feel the pain of betrayal instead of the refuge found in faithfulness.
As I witness a father loudly and publicly shaming his young son in the home improvement store, I feel upset by his violence and long for the sweet, soft touch of gentleness.
“This is the day that the Lord has made…” I remind myself.
These words of the psalmist provide a much-needed reminder on days when the spirit of the age seems—only seems—more present than the Spirit of God. Speaking (or singing) this refrain feels like an act of holy rebellion, as I declare that, indeed, this is the day that the Lord has made. Therefore, I will rejoice as I actively choose love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control today. No matter what the day holds, I will defiantly choose to be glad in it.
Weekly Editor
Susan Tucker is a lifelong lover of story, and with curiosity and openness, she often explores in her writing the tension that life holds. A former English teacher, Susan loves meaningful use of language, especially when used to stir the soul and whet one’s appetite for more truth, goodness, and beauty. Compelled by a burgeoning interest in trauma recovery, she pursued training at The Allender Center, completing the Certificate in Narrative Focused Trauma Care, Level I and Level 2. Susan and Tim, her husband of 29 years, are the parents of two sons, now young adults, and adjusting to their newly empty nest.nbsp
Beautiful, Susan. Along with you, I will also defiantly choose to be glad in it.
What a vibrant example of “the joy of the Lord is my strength.” I was stirred by such hope with the truth said in “only seems” – thank you.
In all things I will Praise the Lord!:) He is still in control…blessings to you, always in His mighty name…:)
Thank you Susan for this most needed reminder. It’s too easy to let ourselves become jaded and bitter from the world around us. I will continue to remind myself of these words daily.
I also say this verse in the morning to help set my perspective for the day. Thank you for the reminder that though we see all of the daily struggles, bad and ugly around us, we always can rest in the Hope of the unseen and what is yet to come.