Who Is With Me?

I am a companion to all those who ^[x]fear You, and to those who keep Your precepts.  Psalm 119:63  N ASB

Companion – One of the biggest challenges in this modern world is picking the right friends.  Social media has lowered the bar considerably.  “Friends” are now those who click on my link.  I may not know anything about them, nor care to, in a world where companion is a synonym for quantity, not quality.  As someone said, “You have 900 friends on Facebook until you end up in the hospital.  Then how many come to see you?”

Of course, friendship in the ancient world was vital for survival.  In the political environment of tribes, clans, and city-states, only close-knit communities offered security.  Friendship at a distance was a virtual impossibility.  Perhaps it still is.  We just seem to pretend otherwise.

The psalmist reminds us that there are bonds that reach beyond ancestral connections.  Shared faith is a strong weld, and when that faith is coupled with a fear of the true God and actions of obedience, the bond lasts forever.  The Hebrew word here is ḥābēr.  It describes all kinds of very close relationships, for example, military alliances, ethnic connections, family lineage, and political treaties.  That’s why the psalmist adds clarification.  He’s not talking about any of these human uses.  He’s focused on the unity of spiritual commitment, and that is found in the word yārēʾ.  It would be easy to suggest that yārēʾ simply means showing proper homage and respect to God.  It’s often used for reverence and awe.  Or we might assume that yārēʾ means righteous behavior or piety.  It’s also used that way.  But we can’t forget the other meanings of yārēʾ, particularly those that express raw emotions.  yārēʾ also means straight up fear, and the emotional reaction to anticipated evil.  Don’t you think all of these meanings apply to our relationship with God?  Who are your companions?  Aren’t they the ones who 1) show respect and honor toward God, 2) feel awe in His presence, 3) behave righteously, 4) actually fear His judgment, and 5) anticipate what God could do that might bring catastrophe.  Do we really fear God if we dismiss any of these?  I suggest not.

Once again we’re thrown back on the word piqqûdîm.  Don’t think of these as rules and regulations.  The basic idea is oversight or supervision.  Fatherly supervision.

A few years ago my therapist asked me to write a letter to myself from the perspective of an outsider about my relationship with my father.  I’d struggled with that relationship for a long time.  Seeing it from the outside made a big difference—and a breakthrough.  I’d like to share it.  It’s all about fatherly supervision.

The Boy on the Bike

I remember when you learned to ride.  Your father adjusted the pedals so they were the right height.  Then he held the back fender of the bike and told you to get on and start pedaling.  He ran behind you all the way down the street, steadying the bike.  You were shaky, worried about falling but he said, “Don’t worry.  I’ve got you.  I’m right here.”  At the end of the block you stopped.  Without letting go, he turned you around.  “Now we’ll go back,” he said.  “Just start pedaling.”  Off you went as before, gripping the handle bars and holding them straight.  He was right behind you, and then, suddenly, you were going by yourself, down the street.  What a feeling it was!  Free.  He let go and let you do it on your own.  Moving so quickly with just a little effort.  Coasting.  A straight line, of course, not quite sure what to do about making turns.  And then sort of crashing, stopping move.  But the joy of it all.  Doing something amazing all by yourself.  It wasn’t long before biking up and down the street was the most natural thing to do.  Your father watched with pride as you shouted, “Look what I can do!”  He smiled and waved.  You were delighted to see how pleased he was.  Up and down the street, making turns, it was magic.  Sure, you crashed.  Sometimes you fell.  But it didn’t matter now.  Now you could do it because he made you sure of yourself.

Remember that!  Remember how wonderful it was to see his smile, to know that he helped you accomplish something that freed you to explore, to ride, to feel the wind.  I’m telling you now that he was proud of you, that he loved to see your joy and exuberance.  I’m telling you that on that day you meant everything to him and he was filled with joy to see his first-born son become an adventurer.  On that day, you were all that mattered to him.  You were his delight.

My little boy, how much he loved you!  Remember how much he cherished your excitement, how much it pleased him to see you happy.  Today you can thank him for his care over you.  You can say the words that have waited so long to be heard.

Topical Index:  companion, ḥābēr, piqqûdîm, supervision, care, Psalm 119:63