Hold On To Great Treasure

It had been an overlap day, when one commitment led to another with hardly a breath in between. Three grandsons sped through their home kitchen where I tried to do some cleaning up after lunch. Unfamiliar with exactly where to put things in the kitchen, I searched through cupboards and filled the sink. A familiar buzz vibrated in my back pocket.

My right hand held squished food scraps about to be tossed and my left hand dripped with suds. I pulled out the buzzing phone from my back pocket with a wet left hand. Holding it up by one corner, I tilted my head to discover the caller while trying to keep the phone dry. Although I didn’t recognize the number I did remember it as one I’d been connected to through a neighbor who had just had surgery. Awkwardly, I tucked the phone between my neck and shoulder while I answered.

A friend of my neighbor wanted to schedule a time I could let her in next door to retrieve an item.

I needed to check my calendar

“Sure,” I replied, “No problem.”

With a dripping hand, I patted the back pocket where I kept my phone. It wasn’t there. My pocket was empty, the space flat. I patted all my pockets. They were all empty.

“Oh my,” I said to the lady speaking in my ear, “I can’t find my phone. Just a second,” I continued, “I’m sure I brought it. Let me check my purse.”

She didn’t say anything.

I grabbed my purse and rummaged through it.

“I can’t believe I forgot my phone.” I grumbled.

Still silence on the line.

“Nope, not in my purse. Maybe I left it in the car,” I began to head toward the door to go outside.

The voice in my ear hurriedly interrupted my exit, “That’s ok, don’t bother looking, I’ll call back when it’s more convenient.”

Relieved, I agreed to have her call me that evening after I’d be home and able to look at the calendar…on my phone…where my calendar was…

As soon as she hung up, I swung the device in front of my face to hang up. And when that screen met my eyes, I realized what I’d done.

I’d been holding the phone while looking for it.

But not just that, I’d been giving a play by play search for my phone while talking on it to someone I’d never met. And someone whom I now ardently hoped to never meet.

Oh how like that I can be with God. I hold the greatest treasure in all the world, but sometimes act as if He’s not even in the room. I worry. I fret. I look around in vain to ease my stress. I forget to pray first and plan later. I mobilize and strategize. While all the time my Jesus is ready and right there. He is never lost or out of arm’s reach.

As I’ve been reading through the Psalms, I often read  the background of the chapter in its introduction.I hold the greatest treasure in all the world, but sometimes act as if He’s not even in the room Share on X

“When Saul sent men to watch his house in order to kill him, “ (Psalm 59).“When he fled from Saul in the cave,” (Psalm 57)  ““When the Philistines seized him in Gath.” (Psalm 56)

But Psalm 145 simply notes, “a song of praise of David.” It’s the last Psalm attributed to his penmanship. David had been through a lot, and God had been through it with him. He’d been there along, each time David prayed.

“Hear my cry, O God; attend to my prayer.” (Psalm 61:1 NKJV)

“Be merciful to me, O God, for man would swallow me up.” (Psalm 56:1 NKJV)

“Do not hide Yourself from my supplication, Attend to me, and hear me.” (Psalm 55:2b-3a NKJV)

That same David, who pled for life and craved for hope, confirmed God’s listening ear and faithful heart in Psalm 145. He praised.

For while all of life closed in on him, when distance from God crackled like static on the line, God was always there.

“The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth,” David declared. (Psalm 145:18 ESV)

David’s praise offered to the Lord the immense greatness of God over the entire arc of his life.

I am grateful for David’s praise and to be reminded again that God is right here in the room. He sees every detail and knows every whisper of my heart.   

As I stared at that phone in my hand, the scenes rewound through my mind.

My son walked into the kitchen as I was groaning and moaning.

I agonized, “You are gonna be embarrassed to call me Mom from now on.”

“What did you do, Mom?”

When he stopped laughing, he assured me he’d also done things like that.

“No, you haven’t,” I whined. I looked up at him hopefully, waiting for assurance.

The moment quickly passed.

“Well, maybe not quite like that,” he conceded.

After a quick but assuring hug, he turned to leave, and I heard him murmur, ‘ere he walked out of sight…“yah, that’s pretty bad.”