I live in the United States, where Independence Day is celebrated today and where the “pursuit of happiness” is a con­stitutional right. As I reflect, I wonder where we look in our “pur­suit of happiness.” Are we pursuing happiness? Or are we actually pursuing power and wealth that we think will bring happiness?

This psalm challenges me to reflect on my depend­ence on God. In recent years, creation has become a reminder that with every breath I take, I depend on God. I stop for a minute and look out my window at the beauty of the rural Kentucky land­scape. Everything around me—what I can see as well as what is invisible and unknown to me—is sustained by God’s life-giving breath.

Psalm 132 declares that David’s throne and Zion will stand forever. Several generations later, however, the invasion by Babylon ended the rule of David’s family and destroyed the temple. As the Israelites later recited this psalm, I wonder if some asked themselves, “Given what we have experienced, what does it mean to believe in God’s promises?”

Turning away from sin and turning toward God are inseparable. Yet sometimes we believers emphasize the avoidance of sin rather than a turning toward God.

The sun is rising as I write. Its soft light glows out­side my window, bathing the world in beauty. For centuries, humans assumed that the earth was the center of the universe and that the sun actually rose and set as it moved overhead. As I watch the changing light, I try to remember that the earth is moving, not just the sun. The place I inhabit is not the center of the universe.

Ministry depletes energy. Every time I preach, the adrenaline “collapse” afterward creates fatigue. Trips energize me, but when I get home, I need recuperation time.

A pastor in my conference was granted a sabbatical in which he visited a number of congregations in Canada and the USA. Someone in his church offered his family a recreational vehi­cle and a credit card, saying, “Go ahead and enjoy the trip. The gas is on us. We want to bless you and your family as God has blessed us.” 

When I was 15, my oldest sister died. My mother was devastated. She had already sustained a severe emotional burnout in ministry and now was particularly fragile in dealing with this loss. I also recall how, five years later, a friend had told her, “Get over it,” and how that made her cry.

My daughter-in-law lived less than five miles from the epicenter of the big 1989 California quake. I have seen pictures of the damage her parents’ home sustained. I also recall television images of the flattened freeway with vehicles crushed underneath.