Granddad was a quiet man. But in the evenings when he settled on the porch swing, poetry flowed from him. I loved to lean against his chest, my cheek on his worn flannel shirt, and listen to the rumble and rhythm of the words he spoke. He often recited Longfellow’s poem “The Village Smithy.” Knowing just when to pause or raise his voice, he transported me to another time and place, where I could see the mighty blacksmith laboring under the spreading chestnut-tree. It was magical. And I was spellbound.
Granddad taught me that we learn from words when we treasure them. The psalmist invites us to do the same with the words of God. As the source of all knowledge, God has so much to teach us through the Bible. But the psalmist tells us we’ll miss the lesson if we skim over the words. They’re meant to be unfolded.
Layer by layer, word by word, we open the gift. We read God’s words until they’re stamped in our memory and the light of understanding enters our hearts. Then His words can teach us wisdom, direct our steps, wrap us in comfort and peace, show us mercy and love, and bring us closer to God.
Prayer: Thank you, God, for your word. Help us to unfold it like a treasured gift so that it fills our lives and our hearts.