May 19th, 2020 Daily Devotional

Psalm 8

1 O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You

have set your glory above the heavens.

2 Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark

because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger.

3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the

stars that you have established;

4 what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you

care for them?

5 Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with

glory and honor.

6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have

put all things under their feet,

7 all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field,

8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the

paths of the seas.

9 O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!


This Psalm expresses the author’s awe that in the midst of the vast

creation, God notices and cares for us (“what are human beings that you

are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”). How does it feel to

know that you are noticed by God today?


And then verses 6-8 remind us of our call to notice and have “dominion

over” (which means a responsibility to care for) all of God’s works in our

midst. I love the following poem by Mary Oliver about noticing even the

moths in mid-May. And I wonder what creation-care would look like if we all

worked harder at noticing, just as God does with us. What are you taking

notice of today in God's creation?


The Moths by Mary Oliver

There’s a kind of white moth, I don’t know

what kind, that glimmers

by mid-May

in the forest, just

as the pink mocassin flowers

are rising.

If you notice anything,

it leads you to notice

more

and more.

And anyway

I was so full of energy.

I was always running around, looking

at this and that.

If I stopped

the pain

was unbearable.

If I stopped and thought, maybe

the world

can’t be saved,

the pain

was unbearable.

Finally, I noticed enough.

All around me in the forest

the white moths floated.

How long do they live, fluttering

in and out of the shadows?

You aren’t much, I said

one day to my reflection

in a green pond,

and grinned.

The wings of the moths catch the sunlight

and burn

so brightly.

At night, sometimes,

they slip between the pink lobes

of the moccasin flowers and lie there until dawn,

motionless

in those dark halls of honey.

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