Give ear to my words, O Lord;
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God.
For to You, I pray.
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
-Psalm 5:1-2
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I spent my undergrad years studying the practices and lavish temples of eastern religions. I read books and watched videos and saw pictures of these beautiful places of worship, and though it grieved me that people went to such lengths to praise idols, I still appreciated the aesthetic beauty of them and longed to one day step foot inside one.
Last week, I went out into the community with our team leader Ryan, hoping to connect with people. We ended up passing our time in the Buddhist temple a few doors down the street from our home.
As we approached the giant steps and passed by the two stone dragons guarding them, more and more of this small city, previously shrouded by trees, came into sight.
The property was filled with several temples, and each was filled with one giant buddha and thousands of tiny boxes that line the walls. These small boxes were about six inches tall and wide, and they stretched from the floor to the high ceilings of the temple. Most contained small, personal buddhas that his worshippers left. Some were still waiting to be filled.
The nature around the temple, the part that God created, was beautiful. It was a gorgeous piece of land. But as I looked around at the burning incense and the reclining buddhas and the stone idols, which men labored in vain to keep painted gold, I realized that my studies had overglorified places like this.
This place was death.
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Two important truths are held in verse 2 of Psalm 5. The first is David’s address to the Lord:
“my King and my God.”
May we never cease to bring praises unto Him for the liberty to use the word “my” when speaking of the Almighty, for it is because He loved us first that we may call Him “mine.” How sweet it is to employ language of possession when we consider the God of the Universe. “For I am Yours, and You are mine” indeed! I will sing praise to my God-King, for He heeds my cry for help.
The second truth I want to visit is a distinction — “For to You, I pray.” Let the Muslims have their mosques and the Buddhists have their gilded idols and incense. Let the Hindus have their Vedas and the Daoists have their chants. Let the universalist have his “cultural sensitivity” and the atheist have himself.
But give me Jesus.
For it is to Him, I pray.
The God-King who so loved me that He bore the cross so that I could know Him. That’s a God who hears prayers.
“In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice.”
What a sweet time the morning is. As I mentioned a few blogs ago, It’s something I’ve had the pleasure of sharing with my team here in Indonesia. We live next to a mosque, and every day, at 4:00am, they blast Arabic prayers through the city over a huge outdoor sound system. So we get up in the blackness of early morning and pray too. Later, the Arabic prayers, a language which the locals here can’t even understand, are drowned out by prayers to a Holy God who loves. Later still, the Islamic prayers end completely, and the children of the King are still in communion with Him.
Muslims are required to pray in Arabic, or their prayers will not be heard. The glory of our Father speaks in every language. While their prayers clamor throughout this city, our whispers echo in the heavens.
“For to You, I pray.”
We will order our prayers to You as an altar, my King. And when we finish, we shall lift our heads and eagerly watch, for You hear our voices, and You love Your own.
