End of the year, end of the psalms

The picture is from Psalm 148.

Look closely.

You can read it from right-hand to left.


H on the right is clear enough

…looks like an inukshuk…

two L s




Short version of YHWH, or, the LORD, in English Bibles.


In the monasteries, monks read all one hundred and fifty psalms, every thirty days.

Every psalm, every month.

They recited in worship, morning and evening.

Psalm 1 blesses the one who walks with the Lord.

In every situation — except one — the protagonist and the reader learn to lean on the Lord of Israel.

The last psalms on the surface are boringly same-same:

They praise the Lord of Israel.

That’s all.


Someone (or someones) put the psalms in an order.

The psalms lead the reader through tough experiences.

At the end of the library of life, the reader is to arrive at praise.

The editor(s) wound up the collection in praise.

It is as if they were saying:

Life is supposed to teach praise.

Education is supposed to result in praise.

If you find yourself further away from God after those experiences that oblige you to cry out for help, then you must be moving in the wrong direction.

One should love the Lord his God with all his heart, all his mind, all his strength.

Psalm 116: “I love the Lord, because he heard my cry.”

I’m not used to thinking about learning — rightly understood — as for praise.

But if I am more plugged into reality, then I am more plugged into the character of the God who made heaven and earth — right?

So, after my wife’s 42 nights in the hospital, here is a picture for praise: