Psalms Girl Quotes

As for God, His way is perfect. PSALM 18:30

Lions and tigers and pissed-off girls, oh my.

She is a jar of honey How do you carry such sweetness? Without being noticed By the bees that made it! No you don't; You just hold it gently So that it doesn't spill any honey To attract flies... That is how you love a girl And enjoy her grow up Into a wonderful woman.

...telling me not to be afraid, reminding me that even in the worst moments, when nothing makes sense and doubt and worry make everything bleak, there is still love in my life.

You never have to apologize for what's in your heart.

Everything in this world is music if you can hear it. Make a joyful noise, the psalm says.

I felt like half a heretic to admit that The Lord of the Rings kept me believing in redemption or that Aslan made God real to me when I was sick of church. I felt guilty when a novel made me feel closer to God than a psalm.

The Well-Watered Woman isn’t the perfect woman. She’s fueled by the undeserved grace of God, not by her ambitions to be a “good girl.” She recognizes that the good within her comes from God alone (see Psalm 16:2; Galatians 5:22-23). Jesus has set her free from her past mistakes, and she lives as a new creation (see 2 Corinthians 5:17). He has given her a fresh start, and his mercy propels her forward in love and obedience each day. She has come to the end of herself and found a new beginning in Jesus. Her future is secure, and her new life is most hopeful of all—eternity with Christ. The goal of the Well-Watered Woman isn’t to be someone but to know someone—the one who changes everything. Her ambitions and dreams are being transformed by Jesus as he shows her, day by day, the better way to live. As she makes it her daily pursuit to know Jesus, she becomes the someone God created her to be: the Well-Watered Woman.

Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you. PSALM 9:10 SEPTEMBER 29 A missionary’s wife in central China during World War II knew the Japanese were approaching her city. She was with her baby girl, two months old, and her son, just over a year old. Her husband had been taken to a hospital, himself ill. He was one hundred and fifteen miles away and would not be back for perhaps a month. The poor woman was filled with fear—she was alone and unprotected, in bitter January weather. When morning came, she realized that she was without food for her children. She pulled off the calendar page. That day’s verse stated simply: “So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children” (Genesis 50:21). There was a rap at the door. “We knew you would be hungry,” said a longtime neighbor, “and you didn’t know how to milk the goats. So I have milked your goats. Here is milk for your children.” Will you try to explain this away, handle it on an intellectual basis as just pure coincidence? When you come right down to it, what is coincidence? It is an act of God in the midst of time.

My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God; when shall I come and appear before the face of God?' (Psalm 42:2) But the Psalmist also says, 'In death there is no one that is mindful of thee.' So it made me happy that I could be with my mother the last few weeks of her life, and for the last ten days at her bedside daily and hourly. Sometimes I thought to myself that it was like being present at a birth to sit by a dying person and see their intentness on what is happening to them. It almost seems that one is absorbed in a struggle, a fearful, grim, physical struggle, to breathe, to swallow, to live. And so, I kept thinking to myself, how necessary it is for one of their loved ones to be beside them, to pray for them, to offer up prayers for them unceasingly, as well as to do all those little offices one can. When my daughter was a little tiny girl, she said to me once, 'When I get to be a great big woman and you are a little tiny girl, I'll take care of you,' and I thought of that when I had to feed my mother by the spoonful and urge her to eat her custard. How good God was to me, to let me be there. I had prayed so constantly that I would be beside her when she died; for years I had offered up that prayer. And God granted it quite literally. I was there, holding her hand, and she just turned her head and sighed.

O that today you would hearken to his voice! —Psalm 95:7 (RSV) MARIA, INSPIRATION BEHIND HOLY ANGELS HOME Maria was nine in 1965 when I first wrote about her, a bright, little girl with an impish smile. Born hydrocephalic, without legs, a “vegetable” who could not survive, she’d dumbfounded experts and become the inspiration behind a home for infants with multiple handicaps. Now I was back at Holy Angels in North Carolina to celebrate Maria’s fiftieth birthday. I had to trot to keep up with Maria’s motorized wheelchair through a maze of new buildings, home now for adults as well as infants. At each stop, Maria introduced me to staff and volunteers who simply exuded joy. And yet the people they were caring for had such cruel limitations! How could everyone seem so happy, I asked, working day after day with people who’ll never speak, never hold a spoon, never sit up alone? “None of us would be happy,” Maria said, “if we looked way off into the future like that.” Here, she explained, they looked for what God was doing in each life, just that one day. “That’s where God is for all of us, you know. Just in what’s happening right now.” How intently one would learn to look, I thought, to spot the little victories. In my life too…. What if I memorized just the first stanza of Millay’s “Renascence”? What if I understood just one more function on my iPhone? What if just one morning I didn’t comment about my husband’s snoring? “Thank you, Maria,” I said as we hugged good-bye, “for showing me the God of the little victories.” Through what small victory, Father, will You show me Yourself today? —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:34

No Mirrors in My Nana’s House” Sweet Honey in the Rock LYRICS BY YSAYE MARIA BARNWELL Sweet Honey in the Rock is a Grammy Award–winning vocal group of black women vocalists founded in 1973 by Bernice Johnson Reagon. The group’s members have changed during its long tenure, but it retains a core of five vocalists and a sign-language interpreter. Their performances are deeply embodied celebrations of black women’s lived experiences. The group’s name is derived from Psalm 81:16: “But you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.” Sign-language interpreter Dr. Ysaye Barnwell joined Sweet Honey in the Rock in 1979 and appears in more than thirty recordings with the group. She is the author of one of the group’s most popular recordings, “No Mirrors in My Nana’s House.” It is a stirring piece that reveals how the loving protection of black women can shield black girls from a painful world that seeks to negate their beauty and worth. In 1998 the lyrics became a children’s book published by Harcourt Brace. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. And the beauty that I saw in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun). I never knew that my skin was too black. I never knew that my nose was too flat. I never knew that my clothes didn’t fit. I never knew there were things that I’d missed, cause the beauty in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun); . . . was in her eyes. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. And the beauty that I saw in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun). I was intrigued by the cracks in the walls. I tasted, with joy, the dust that would fall. The noise in the hallway was music to me. The trash and the rubbish just cushioned my feet. And the beauty in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun). . . . was in her eyes. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. And the beauty that I saw in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun). The world outside was a magical place. I only knew love. I never knew hate, and the beauty in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun). . . . was in her eyes. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. There were no mirrors in my Nana’s house, no mirrors in my Nana’s house. And the beauty that I saw in everything was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

The words of the twenty-third Psalm had come back to her, verses Mutti had helped her memorize as a young girl--Elise Neumann

I've been wondering too, not because I've become a believer in all things mystical, but because I've realized that maybe there are some things that defy logic, things that go beyond what any of us can fully understand, as hard as we may try.

It could mean nothing, or anything we want it to, I guess.

You can't spend your whole life in someone else's story.

I need to find my own truth,

My questions and stress have packed their bags and gone on vacation. They'll be back at some point, but I'm going to enjoy the break while I can.

I'd like to think that there's a hard, bright line separating someone like him from someone like me, but if there isn't? What if we're all dancing on a line between stable and undone?

Funny how everyone's got a handy motto for how I should live my life.

I wonder if there are degrees of broken, if there are some kinds of pain that never heal.

No settle for basic, sis. God don get somebody special for you, so keep slaying and wait for am to show. A beg, a beg e go worth the wait. - Psalm 37:4 Psalm 37:4: Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart

Thursday, August 6 • The Transfiguration of the Lord God Is Never Lost His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away, his kingship shall not be destroyed. Daniel 7:14 We lose the things we most want to keep. The little girl who used to cuddle now pulls away in embarrassment when we try to hug her. Old friendships seem somehow stiff when we try to revive them in adulthood. The old neighborhood changes; the tree in the backyard topples in a storm; the beloved dog can’t climb up on the bed anymore. The bank forecloses on the house we poured our life savings into. Our mother loses her memory, then her gentleness and then her life. If we judged by appearances, life could seem like a chaotic series of accidents and losses. But the Feast of the Transfiguration reminds us that life isn’t what it seems. A lamp is shining in our dark places. Jesus was more than he seemed: He was and is king over all the earth. Faith doesn’t deny the losses but trusts that God cannot ever be lost. Eve Tushnet Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14 • Psalm 97:1-2, 5-6, 9 • 2 Peter 1:16-19 • Mark 9:2-10

I’m sure you have felt the exhaustion, fatigue, and the drain on your emotional and spiritual life as you balance being a wife, mother, and everything else you have to do. When we are stressed, we can look to a lot of things to feed our souls, such as a fun girls’ night out or a long movie or time surfing on the Web or a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies! But anything less than God Himself will leave our souls unsatisfied. Psalm

In 1871, much of the city of Chicago was on fire, hundreds of people died, and four square miles of the city burned to the ground. The Great Chicago Fire was one of the worst disasters in America during the nineteenth century. One Chicago resident, Horatio Spafford, was a good friend of D. L. Moody and a man who lived out his faith. Despite great personal loss in property and assets, Horatio and his wife, Anna, dedicated themselves to helping the people of Chicago who had become impoverished by the fire. After years of hard work helping others recover from their losses, the Spaffords decided to take a well-earned vacation to help Moody during one of his evangelistic crusades in Great Britain. Anna and their four daughters went on ahead while Horatio planned on joining them in a few days after tending to some unfinished business matters. One night en route, the ship that Anna and the girls were traveling on collided with another ship and sank within minutes. Anna and the girls were thrown into the black waters of the Atlantic Ocean, and only Anna survived. As hard as she tried, she could not save even one of her daughters. Anna was found unconscious, floating on a piece of wreckage. After her rescue, she sent a heartrending telegram to Horatio in Chicago that simply said, “Saved alone.” Horatio boarded the next ship to Europe to be reunited with his wife. As he was en route, the captain called Horatio to the bridge when they reached the spot where his daughters had drowned. As Horatio stood looking out into the blackness of the sea, heartbroken and no doubt with tears running down his face, with only his faith sustaining him, he penned the words to one of the greatest hymns ever written: “It Is Well with My Soul.” When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul Chorus It is well with my soul, It is well, it is well with my soul! My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part, but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! How can a man who has just lost his four little girls praise the Lord? Where does a person get that kind of strength? The answer: by being deeply rooted in the Word of God. Horatio Spafford was a man of the Word, so when tragedy stuck, he could face it with strength and confidence. The centrality of God’s Word plays a critical role in the life of every believer, and this emphasis serves as the Big Idea throughout Psalms 90—150.

If Christ is at the center—if He is the one who has forever swept her off her feet—she makes sure that her attitude and speech and conduct are pleasing to Him. She seeks to walk in His way. Her eyes are ever toward the Lord (Psalm 25:15).

I am flawed on many obvious levels, and truthfully, I erroneously report my zip code at least two out of every ten times. So why would I write about pursuing a rich understanding of the Bible? Isn’t that material reserved for the upper echelon of the church hierarchy? The ones who have “arrived”? The answer is fundamental: The insights of the Bible are not reserved for pastors, their wives, and Billy Graham. Psalm 119:130, one of the most beautiful passages concerning God’s Word, says, The unfolding of Your words gives light; It gives understanding to the simple.

I’ve often felt very distant from God. Detached. Like he doesn’t hear, doesn’t see, doesn’t listen. This morning I read Psalm 22:2, “My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer.” I thought to myself, Exactly.

POEMS “Song of the Open Road”—Walt Whitman “The Tyger”—William Blake “I Thought of You”—Sara Teasdale “Sonnet 140”—William Shakespeare “A Clear Midnight”—Walt Whitman “Something Left Undone”—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “A Prayer for My Daughter”—William Butler Yeats “My Little March Girl”—Paul Laurence Dunbar “The Mountain Sat Upon the Plain”—Emily Dickinson “The Song of Wandering Aengus”—William Butler Yeats “Jabberwocky”—Lewis Carroll “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”—Robert Frost “Continent’s End”—Robinson Jeffers “Forgiveness”—George MacDonald “O Me! O Life!”—Walt Whitman “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time”—Robert Herrick “In Memoriam A.H.H.”—Alfred Lord Tennyson “i like my body when it is with your”—E. E. Cummings “A Psalm of Life”—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”—William Butler Yeats “Three Marching Songs”—William Butler Yeats “Song of Myself”—Walt Whitman “in the rain”—E. E. Cummings “When All Is Done”—Paul Laurence Dunbar “The Wanderings of Oisin”—William Butler Yeats “The Cloud-Islands”—Clark Ashton Smith “love is more thicker than forget”—E. E. Cummings “Hymn to the North Star”—William Cullen Bryant “Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun”—Walt Whitman “The Young Man’s Song”—William Butler Yeats “If”—Rudyard Kipling “Character of the Happy Warrior”—William Wordsworth

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.” Psalm 27:13-14

Who is the boy, or girl, or person, or paranormal entity who has you so flustered?

Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret–it leads only to evil,” she reminded herself. Psalm 37:8.

Psalm 37:8 is true: “Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil.

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart,’ Psalm 37:4.

When I am afraid, I will trust in You.’ Psalm 56:3.

When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong, Because the Lord is the One who holds his hand. I have been young and now I am old, Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken. Psalm 37:24–25

May the favor of the LORD our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands.” Psalm 90:17

Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live.” Psalm 116:2

Glad someone shot deserved to be shot finally, George Wallace. After you send your basket of balms And berries for the girls the bomb buried in Birmingham, After you add your palms to the psalms & palm covered Caskets of the girls the bomb buried in Birmingham, I’ll muster a pinch of prayer for you. You are the blind Protagonist of a story that begins, “In my previous life My work involved returning runaway slaves to slavery,” And ends with the image of a black nurse pushing Your old ass in a wheelchair. Can you guess what black Folk passing empty cotton fields feel, George Wallace? I damn you with the opposite of that feeling. I keep thinking I’m confessing for the first time, the reason I fear you, And you keep asking why I’m telling this old story again.

May he set your feet on a rock and give you a firm place to stand. (Psalm 40:2)

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13-14

May your unfailing love be with us, LORD, even as we put our hope in you.” Psalm 33:22

Holy is the dish and drain The soap and sink, and the cup and plate And the warm wool socks, and cold white tile Showerheads and good dry towels And frying eggs sound like psalms With a bit of salt measured in my palm It’s all a part of a sacrament As holy as a day is spent Holy is the busy street And cars that boom with passion’s beat And the check out girl, counting change And the hands that shook my hands today And hymns of geese fly overhead And stretch their wings like their parents did Blessed be the dog, that runs in her sleep To catch that wild and elusive thing Holy is the familiar room And the quiet moments in the afternoon And folding sheets like folding hands To pray as only laundry can I’m letting go of all I fear Like autumn leaves of earth and air For summer came and summer went As holy as a day is spent Holy is the place I stand To give whatever small good I can And the empty page, and the open book Redemption everywhere I look Unknowingly we slow our pace In the shade of unexpected grace And with grateful smiles and sad lament As holy as a day is spent And morning light sings “Providence” As holy as a day is spent

I’m surprised no one saw my choice of favorite verses as a neon sign on my forehead flashing “OCD” (with which I was later diagnosed). I remember feeling forgotten by God and wondered how long I’d have to deal with thoughts that didn’t feel like mine. Unfortunately, none of the grown-ups picked up on what my favorite Scripture passage revealed about my mental state. While I clung to the promises at the end of the psalm like a life raft, I wish someone had helped me get to safe harbor. I found my way to shore myself, and I’ve forgiven those who didn’t see me. But I sometimes wonder how much of my life could have been different if someone had taken the time to notice me and truly hear and help process my emotions and experiences.

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