Sweeter Than Honey?

"...More precious than gold, than much pure gold... sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.” Psalm 19:10

This precious and sweet commodity being described above by the Psalmist, David, is the law of the Lord, used interchangeably with his statutes (v. 7), precepts (v. 8), commands (v.8), and ordinances .  Sweeter than honey.  That comparison surprises me. 

I can understand why I should respect God’s laws and try to obey them.  But to describe them as delicious is hard to swallow, so to speak. As necessary as food?  Yes.  But, as tasty as honey?  That seems a bit of a stretch.   You could make a better case that we should obey because it is healthy, not necessarily because it scrumptious. 

That’s only reinforced when you remember that David is referring, not to the Bible as we know it, but to the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament. And, my, what books they are.  Genesis is pretty good, Exodus not half bad, but after that you get Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.  Open up to random selections within these books and you may find yourself stranded in seven chapters describing different types of offerings (Leviticus 1-7) or four chapters of census figures (Numbers 1-4).  This is like the gristle of Scripture, the tough part of the meat.  You could live on it, but it sure doesn’t taste real good – certainly not like honey

If I were writing this poem about the law of God to be included in the enduring canon of Scripture, I’d edit out the line about honey.  Maybe replace it with “more nutritious than potatoes.”  I owe my knowledge of potatoes to Michael Pollan and his wonderful book The Botany of Desire.  Potatoes are cheap, versatile, and nutritionally balanced.  They require minimal labor or tools to produce, grow in a wide variety of soil types, and are immensely nourishing.   Almost all the nutrients you need to survive are wrapped up in that tuber.  Many societies have developed on the sustenance of the potato. 

As far as taste, potatoes are pretty bland.  Occasionally we have baked potato night for dinner.  Truthfully, the potatoes are just a sponge for the various toppings we pile on – butter, cheddar cheese, sour cream, sautéed onions, crumbled bacon, and salt and pepper. Take away the toppings and you have a pretty dull meal.  But isn’t that how we think of the law of God.  Dull, but nutritious. Necessary, but not particularly pleasant.  It doesn’t taste like much, but you know it’s good for you.   And yet, David says the law is sweeter than honey.

In his search for an explanation, C.S. Lewis looked to Psalm 119, the longest in the collection and one devoted entirely to the Law.  Again, comparisons are made to the value of gold and silver (v.72), the tastiness of honey (v.103).  At times the Psalmist seems to go over the top with his passion for God’s Word.  Verse 131 he writes, “I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands.”

But Lewis notes that for all its passion, this is the most highly structured of all the Psalms. It's an elaborate poem composed of twenty-two eight-verse stanzas, each stanza corresponding to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet.  Each verse within each stanza begins with the same Hebrew letter. It’s an acrostic on energy drinks; an alphabetical poem taken to an extreme. And yet for all its complexity, it really conveys a simple message.  The Psalmist loves the Word of God.

Lewis realized that this was no sudden outpouring of the heart, composed off-the-cuff.  It's too complicated for that.  You don’t write this kind of poem in a hurry.  It’s a thing done like embroidery, stitch by stitch, through long quiet hours.  It’s labored over, as if the Psalmist finds delight in the leisurely, disciplined craftsmanship. He finds the pleasure of getting a thing just so. 

Maybe the poet felt about God’s Word much like he felt about his poetry.  Involved and exact; lovingly conformed to an intricate pattern.  Delightfully complex in it’s details, but wonderfully simple in it’s united whole.  Simple enough to teach children and complex enough that no one has ever plumbed its depths and reached the bottom.

The deeper we investigate the more we discover that God’s Word is a reliable guide to life.  It reveals truth.  Delight in the law is the delight of having touched firmness, of having grasped reality.  God’s Word faithfully directs us through the complexities of life.  In it you find stable, well-grounded directions for living. Psalm 19 points to these benefits, suggesting that the law of God revives our souls, makes us wise, gives us joy, helps us see, and results in great reward. And the more you meditate, the deeper you understand, the tighter you get your hands around it, the more delightful it becomes.

Scripture invites us to unwrap it like layers of an onion.  To find delight in seeing even familiar passages afresh as we take it one level deeper.  And to find that God's Word truly is sweeter than honey.


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Happy New Year

I work in retail, managing a convenience store on steroids (20 gas pumps, 4 diesel pumps, 13 cooler doors, 4 registers, a brick oven pizza and deli).  It's a big operation, with two parrallel departments - a car wash and a detail shop.  Between all the departments there are over 100 employees - some know me well, but many only know me casually.  Brief interactions and occasional observations form the basis of an initial impression.

About a year and a half ago, I was at work, intensely focused on the pressing task at hand.  I don't recall precisely what it was.  Maybe balancing deposits, or entering invoices, or writing the schedule.  Whatever it was, my attention was wholly focused on the computer.  A few feet away, a detail shop employee was purchasing some junk food to carry him through his shift.  He looked over at me and said, "Phil, do you ever smile?"

It was an off-the-cuff comment, a casual observation, a simple question billowing out of one employee's first impression. This is how he saw me - focused, serious, intense, and dour.  It's not how I want to be perceived.  His question was an unintended rebuke, helping me see how my intense focus on managing the store well had eclipsed my joyful heart.  I didn't smile much at work.

More recently, we've been in the midst of a remodel.  We're adding a Tim Hortons to our existing food service.  To make some room, we decided to remove our flavor shots, an add on to the fountain machine that allowed you to squirt flavoring into your soda - vanilla, cherry, strawberry, raspberry, lemon, or lime.  It was a bit of a space hog.

I went to tackle disconnecting it.  I wasn't quite sure how to go about it, so I wiggled a bracket, which unexpectedly popped off.  A geyser of cherry syrup began spurting out, initially blasting me in the face.  Partially blinded by cherry syrup, I got the bright idea to stop the geyser by putting my hand over the spout.  This had the unfortunate effect of increasing the pressure of the geyser, like putting your thumb over a garden hose.  No longer shooting straight in the air, it was now spraying in a wide arc with increased forcefulness.  Deep red syrup was splattering the walls, the new Tim Hortons equipment, the blue prints, the ceiling (15-20 feet high), and, of course, me.

At this point, Karen, the deli supervisor, walked in and started laughing.  I joined in the merriment, laughing at the absurdity of the situation and my own clownish appearance.  As things settled down and the reality of the clean up set-in, Karen said, "It's a good thing you can laugh about it."

I suppose that's what I want - to be the kind of person who laughs at himself and his own embarrassing moments.  To smile freely and frequently.  To bring levity to the seriousness of work.  To exude joy, even under pressure.  To allow happiness to radiate through me. 

It's not just appealing, it's Biblical.  Joy and related concepts are spoken of well over 500 times in Scripture. It is approached from almost every conceivable angle.  It is commanded, expressed, longed for, described, anticipated, enacted, and promised.  And while much can be learned from a consideration of the individual occurrences, I will simply note that a concept mentioned this many times in this many ways indicates how weighty it is.  It is the meat of the dish, not a garnish.  Joy is not ancillary.

Two episodes can't tell the whole story.  But I do think they're indicative. I think joy shines through me more brightly than it used to.   I think my demeanor at work is more light than heavy.   I think my cheerfulness sets a tone for my employees and they respond in kind. And I'm fully anticipating that this will be a happy new year.  I hope it is for you too.