His Mercy Endures Forever

O give thanks unto the LORD; for He is good: 

for His mercy endures forever. (Psalm 136:1)

Worship is the highest expression of life. Rational analysis, casual stories, "thin worn images" of the King all have their place. Flourishing work and exuberant play join in alike, with daily humdrum and rainy respites on the porch or in the woods. There is no way of living that does not fall, unavoidably, into worship. And there, in that awe-full place, dross is consumed and what remains is refined.

What is worship? To be "in spirit and in truth" Jesus told the woman at the well. A sincere awareness, though slim, of surrender to that which is both Maker and King; that from which we cannot run but would if we could; that which draws us helplessly though we feel a fear like thunder.

If it is this, it is far more. Worship sees infinite worth and falls face down. Worship dares to imagine infinite beauty and goodness and knows (barely) it has nothing to give or add. Worship responds with wild hope that self will be received by this goodness that surpasses all.

"His mercy endures forever."

I have no cute words, The best we have is kitsch before the Almighty.

"His mercy endures forever." 

I dare to believe this is true of Him: that He is good. Though He could snuff me and be done with me, instead He sees me and cares.

"His mercy endures forever."

There is no better ground for Thanksgiving.