June 29, 2021

Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 34 which picks up a theme running through our first two readings about Peter and Paul- 

They needed to be 

Rescued!

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“Rescue”, if not exactly a comforting word,carries a relieving tone. We don’t want to need rescuing, but if we do, we’re glad to get it.

I looked up the etymology of “rescue”. It comes from a Latin root excutere “to shake off, drive away,” from ex “out” + cutere, combining form of quatere “to shake”.

So what God did for Peter and Paul was to shake them free, a gift many of us may have prayed for at some time in our lives.

To be free from

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As we celebrate the great Saints Peter and Paul, we might focus on today’s Gospel to understand the fullness of their emancipation. They were profoundly freed by their faith:

Jesus said to his disciples , “But who do you say that I am?”
Simon Peter said in reply,
“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

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As we pray to be rescued from any present or future spiritual entanglements, let’s affirm our faith, as Peter and Paul did, by the way we live our lives.

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Poem: Psalm 57 BY MARY SIDNEY HERBERT COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE

The daughter of Sir Henry Sidney and Mary Dudley, Mary Sidney was born on 27 October 1561 at Tickenhall near Bewdley, Worcestershire, on the Welsh border while her father was serving as lord Governor of the marches of Wales. He had been a companion of King Edward, who died in his arms. Her mother, a well-educated woman who was a close friend of Queen Elizabeth, was the daughter of the Earl of Northumberland, who was virtual ruler of England in King Edward’s final years, and the sister of Elizabeth’s favorite, Robert Dudley. Lady Sidney was badly scarred by smallpox after nursing the queen, and thereafter rarely appeared at court.

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Thy mercy, Lord, Lord, now thy mercy show:
                                         On thee I lie;
                                         To thee I fly.
                         Hide me, hive me, as thine own,
                         Till these blasts be overblown,
Which now do fiercely blow.
To highest God I will erect my cry,
                                         Who quickly shall
                                         Dispatch this all.
                         He shall down from heaven send
                         From disgrace me to defend
His love and verity.
My soul encaged lies with lions’ brood,
                                         Villains whose hands
                                         Are fiery brands,
                         Teeth more sharp than shaft or spear,
                         Tongues far better edge do bear
Than swords to shed my blood.
As high as highest heav’n can give thee place,
                                          O Lord, ascend,
                                          And thence extend
                         With most bright, most glorious show
                         Over all the earth below,
The sunbeams of thy face.
Me to entangle every way I go
                                         Their trap and net
                                          Is ready set.
                         Holes they dig but their own holes
                         Pitfalls make for their own souls:
So, Lord, oh, serve them so.
My heart prepared, prepared is my heart
                                         To spread thy praise
                                         With tuned lays:
                         Wake my tongue, my lute awake,
                         Thou my harp the consort make,
Myself will bear a part.
Myself when first the morning shall appear,
                                         With voice and string
                                         So will thee sing:
                         That this earthly globe, and all
                         Treading on this earthly ball,
My praising notes shall hear.
For god, my only God, thy gracious love
                                         Is mounted far
                                         Above each star,
                         Thy unchanged verity
                         Heav’nly wings do lift as high
As clouds have room to move.
As high as highest heav’n can give thee place,
                                         O Lord, ascend
                                         And thence extend
                         With most bright, most glorious show
                         Over all the earth below,
The sunbeams of thy face.

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Music: Rescue  Me – Selah

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A completely non-spiritual extra for today> I know some of you, of my vintage, are singing this song in your heads now. So here it is: