When Life Feels Steady 2: The God Who Lifts Us Up

This podcast is brought to you by Walmart of Lutheran Church in Langley, D.C., in the hope that it will draw you closer to the one who loves you most.

Let's pray.

Gracious Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of life with you, which you've given us through your Son Jesus Christ.

We thank you for the gift of your Holy Spirit, and we pray that by your Spirit, as we meditate upon your word together this morning, you would help us to hear what it is that you are saying to us, that you would plant your word deep in our hearts and help us to live by it.

For your words, communicate and give eternal life.

We pray all these things in the precious name of Jesus, and all God's people said, Amen.

As far back as I can remember, I have been fascinated by the night sky, especially when we get out of the city and we're able to see the stars much more clearly.

I have vivid memories of going camping and leaning back in a lawn chair and looking up at the cosmic tapestry that God has created.

When our kids were little, I would wake them up after midnight so that we could go outside and look up and see a meteor shower that was happening.

And even now, whenever I'm in a place where I can clearly see the stars, I often look for the big and little dipper and then follow the line that directs my gaze toward Polaris, the North Star.

There's something that happens within me when I look up at the night sky.

My world gets bigger and my worries get smaller.

The heavens feel like an enormous painting that our God has created, not just to mark times and seasons, but to stir our hearts with wonder and remind us that we are part of something far greater than ourselves.

But most of the time, I'm not looking up.

City lights dim the majesty of the night sky, clouds roll in and hide the heavens, and more often than not, the pressures of my day settle over me like a low ceiling.

The distant lights above get swallowed up by the immediate concerns in front of me, and my focus drops.

And as problems fill my field of view, my heart tends to shift from amazement to apathy to anxiousness.

I stop noticing God's glory.

I stop remembering who He is.

And before long, I'm living as if everything depends on me.

And I don't think I'm alone in functioning like this.

For most of us, our lives are spent in places where God's artistry is hidden from sight most of the time.

And even when it is visible, there are countless other sights and sounds demanding our attention.

Distracted by lesser things, we become disorientated, disturbed, and discouraged.

And all of this is tragic because this is not how God meant for our lives to be.

Scripture tells us that we are God's image-bearers.

We've been crafted with dignity.

We've been designed to reflect his character and entrusted with a meaningful place in his world.

And yet the gap between how we live and who God created us to be can feel as vast as the distance between us and the nearest star.

For example, we speak harshly when we were made to reflect God's kindness.

We grasp for control when we were made to trust.

We chase lesser glories when we were made to bear his glory.

So how do we lift our eyes again?

How do we recover the perspective we were created for?

To help us answer that question, let's open our Bibles and Bible apps to Psalm 8.

Now, when David begins Psalm 8, he doesn't start with himself.

He doesn't start with his worries or responsibilities or the pressures of his life.

He starts with God.

He writes, O Lord our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth.

David looks up, and the heavens pull his gaze away from himself and toward the one who spoke galaxies into being.

Creation becomes a kind of sanctuary, a place where the greatness of God steadies the heart and reorientates the soul.

And the same thing happens when we look up.

The grandeur of the galaxies pulls our gaze from ourselves and our comparatively small place in the universe, up to the vastness and beauty of God's cosmic tapestry.

The heavens remind us that God is not only powerful and present, it also reminds us that the one who hung the stars also holds our lives.

David feels the smallness of being human, but it's not a crushing smallness, it's a clarifying one.

Standing under the night sky, he asks, What is mankind that you are mindful of them?

Human beings that you care for them.

It's the honest humility that comes when we remember who God is and who we are in relation to him.

The tragedy, of course, is that we often forget this.

We live with our eyes down, our hearts weighed down by the immediate, our minds consumed by what is in front of us.

But Psalm 8 invites us to lift our eyes again to remember that God's majesty is not meant to overwhelm us, but to steady us.

Not because we have earned it, but because he delights in giving us that dignity.

He entrusts us with a meaningful place in his world, calling us to reflect his character and care into the creation he loves.

This is who we were made to be.

Now, if we're honest, the gap between who we are and who God created us to be can feel impossibly wide.

We speak harshly when we were made to reflect God's kindness.

We grasp for control when we were made to trust.

We chase lesser glories when we were made to bear his glory.

The calling is beautiful, but we fall short of it again and again.

And this is where the mercy of God shines brightest.

Jesus stepped into the story as the true and perfect human being, the one who reflects the Father flawlessly, the one who trusts his Father completely, the one who embodies the glory and honor we were meant to carry.

Jesus did all of that for us.

In his life, Jesus fulfilled the calling that we fail to live.

But in his death and resurrection, Jesus lifts us from spiritual death to abundant life with him.

And he restores the image we were created to bear.

In Ephesians 2, Paul writes, God raised us up with Christ.

The lifting that David glimpsed in Psalm 8 is fulfilled in Jesus.

The God who lifts our eyes with his majesty is the same God who lifts our lives with his mercy.

In Jesus, God restores our dignity.

And he invites us to live as his beloved children, reflecting his love into the world he has entrusted to our care.

So what does this mean for us as we step back into the ordinary rhythm of our lives?

Well, if Psalm 8 is true, and I believe that it is, if God's majesty lifts our eyes and his mercy lifts our lives, then we are invited to live with a different posture in the world.

A lifted posture, a steadied posture, a posture shaped not by the weight of our worries, but by the worth of the one who holds us.

For many of us, the first step is to simply learn to look up again.

Not just at the night sky, but in the moments when our hearts start to sink and our focus drops, when the inbox in our email begins to feel to overflowing, when the conversation we're having with someone else turns tense, when the news headlines we see on TV or our phones unsettle us, when the noise of life crowds out the voice of God, those are the moments when we need to pause and remember who God is.

To take a moment to breathe, to pray, to lift our eyes, even for just a few seconds, and let his greatness steady us.

You and I may not always see the stars, but the God who hung them is always near to us.

Now, looking up is only the beginning.

For Psalm eight calls us also to live out the dignity and purpose God has given us.

You are not an accident, you are not insignificant, you are not defined by your failures or your fears.

You are crowned with glory and honor by the God who created you.

And he has entrusted you with a meaningful place in his world.

That means that your words matter, your work matters, your presence matters, the way you treat people matters.

For every interaction becomes an opportunity for us to reflect the character of the one who is mindful of us, who is thinking about us.

And because Jesus has lifted us into new life with him, we don't live out this calling in our own strength.

We live it out in God's strength.

We reflect his kindness when ours runs out.

We extend his patience when ours wears thin.

We offer God's peace when our hearts feel unsettled.

We carry God's love into places that desperately need it.

The God who lifts us now lifts others through us.

So this week when you feel the pull to lick down, to shrink your world to the size of your problems, remember Psalm 8.

Remember the God whose majesty fills the heavens and whose mercy fills your life.

Remember who He is.

Remember who you are, and let Him lift you into the life you were created to live.

When David looked up at the night sky, he wasn't just seeing stars.

He was seeing a glimpse of the world as God intended it to be.

A world where God's majesty is unmistakable, where his presence is near, and where his people live with the dignity and purpose he created them for.

Psalm 8 is not only a reminder of who God is and who we are, it is also a window into the life God is restoring through Jesus.

Imagine living with a heart that is no longer pulled down by fear or swallowed by the noise of life.

Imagine waking each day with the quiet confidence that the God who set the stars in place is mindful of you, is thinking about you, that his thoughts toward you are not distant or occasional, but constant and tender.

Imagine moving through your week with the settled assurance that your life has weight, that your presence has purpose, and your story is held in hands far stronger than your own.

Imagine a world where the image of God in us is no longer cracked or clouded, but whole and radiant.

A world where we reflect His kindness without hesitation, His peace without strain, His love without fear.

A world where the gap between who we are and who we were created to be is finally closed, not by our effort, but by his grace.

This is the world that Jesus came to bring to us.

He is the true and perfect human, the one who lived the life we were meant to live, and he lifts us into the life we were made for.

In Jesus, our dignity is restored.

In him, our calling is renewed.

In him, our lives are lifted into something larger, steadier, and more beautiful than anything we could ever build on our own.

And one day, when Jesus returns and makes all things new, the world will look the way Psalm 8 always intended it to look.

Creation will sing again, humanity will flourish again, the image of God will shine again, and we will stand in the presence of the one who is both majestic and mindful, and we will be lifted fully into the life we were created to enjoy forever.

Because of Jesus, that world is coming, and because it is coming, we can live differently now.

So here is a simple invitation for this week.

Take a moment each day to look up.

Not metaphorically, but literally.

Step outside or pause at a window or lift your eyes from whatever is in front of you and look up.

Let that physical act become a spiritual practice.

Let it interrupt the downward pull of worry and reawaken the upward pull of God's presence.

And when you look up, I want to encourage you to whisper a short prayer.

Something as simple as Lord, you are majestic and you are mindful of me.

That's it.

Ten seconds.

One breath, one lifted gaze, one reminder of who God is and who you are.

And then as you step back into your day, I want to encourage you to carry that lifted posture with you.

Treat the people around you as image bearers crowned with glory and honor.

Approach your work as something entrusted to you by the God who cares for his world.

And let your words, your choices, and your presence reflect the dignity and purpose he has given you.

One moment of looking up, one whispered prayer, one lifted posture.

These are small practices that open the door to a steadier, more grounded life with God.

And maybe tonight, if the sky is clear, you'll step outside, look up, and remember the God who hung the stars is the God who lifts you up.

Amen.

Let's pray.

Dear Jesus, we thank you for coming into this world to be our Savior and lift us up into new life with you.

And we pray that by your spirit you would continually encourage us.

Help us to not be discouraged or dismayed by the various challenges we face.

But help us instead to remember the greatness and the grandeur of you and the Father and the Spirit, and how you have drawn us up into life with you.

Help us, we pray, Lord, to reflect your love and your grace and your mercy and your glory into the world around us.

In your precious name we ask this, and all God's people said.

Amen.

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Thank you and gladly.