Psalm 44:1 - The Message1-3 We’ve been hearing about this, God, all our lives. Our fathers told us the stories their fathers told them, How single-handedly you weeded out the godless from the fields and planted us, How you sent those people packing but gave us a fresh start. We didn’t fight for this land; we didn’t work for it—it was a gift! You gave it, smiling as you gave it, delighting as you gave it. Ver CapítuloMás versionesKing James Version (Oxford) 17691 We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, What work thou didst in their days, in the times of old. Ver CapítuloAmplified Bible - Classic Edition1 WE HAVE heard with our ears, O God; our fathers have told us [what] work You did in their days, in the days of old. Ver CapítuloAmerican Standard Version (1901)1 We have heard with our ears, O God, Our fathers have told us, What work thou didst in their days, In the days of old. Ver CapítuloCommon English Bible1 We have heard it, God, with our own ears; our ancestors told us about it: about the deeds you did in their days, in days long past. Ver CapítuloCatholic Public Domain Version1 Unto the end. For those who will be changed. To the sons of Korah, toward understanding. A Canticle for the Beloved. Ver Capítulo |
The next time your child asks you, “What do these requirements and regulations and rules that God, our God, has commanded mean?” tell your child, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and God powerfully intervened and got us out of that country. We stood there and watched as God delivered miracle-signs, great wonders, and evil-visitations on Egypt, on Pharaoh and his household. He pulled us out of there so he could bring us here and give us the land he so solemnly promised to our ancestors. That’s why God commanded us to follow all these rules, so that we would live reverently before God, our God, as he gives us this good life, keeping us alive for a long time to come.
A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep drafts of God. I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it— arrive and drink in God’s presence?” I’m on a diet of tears— tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, “Where is this God of yours?”