Tuesday, July 12, 2016
The first time I can remembering hollering out for help was the summer of my sixth year. We were living at Panama City, Florida and were at the beach. I waded out in the water and suddenly my feet could no longer find the bottom. Not being a swimmer, I started kicking and slapping at the water as I went up and down in a moment of panic. An older cousin who was visiting came to my rescue, grabbed hold of me, and got me to a place where feet and sand once again touched. I would have surely been overcome by the water and the fear which took reason away.
The first words of the 12th Psalm record David's cry for help. While he was not in the water facing the prospect of drowning, he was surely caught up in some moment when he knew he was not going to make it. Something about his life had grabbed him, taking such control that he felt helpless to save himself. It was not a moment when someone could reason with him for reason had been taken away by his fear. What he needed was the strong intervening action of someone other than himself, but no one was present who could help him so in his desperation he cried out, "Help me, Lord!"
Perhaps, those simple words are the first real prayer that most of us prayed. One moment we were reciting the comforting rhyming words of some bedtime prayer only to come to some moment filled with things beyond our control which caused those words to leap spontaneously from our heart. Life brings those times to us. To lose control of our life and to realize that no other man or woman is going to be able to help us is a frightening place to stand. Were it not for God those moments of terror would take our life away from us. Even in this very hour of life, we can raise our voice with the voice of David and cry out, Help me, Lord," and know a peace and rest which calms our very soul.