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An older person walks across the stage of a smaller state university to receive a hard-earned advanced degree. It has taken years due to taking classes on again and off again course work alongside a full-time job and family to support. While families of other more traditional student graduates are taking pictures and have celebratory parties and extended family visiting to celebrate, not so for this recent graduate. The person turns in their rented graduation gown, and walks away alone, carrying the degree in hand in a leather-bound folder.

The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed,
    a stronghold in times of trouble.
 And those who know your name put their trust in you,
    for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you. (vv. 9-10)

People send me stories about angels they have seen. The one I am about to share is not like any I have heard before. It conveys a powerful truth, the same truth we find in Mark’s Gospel account of the angel at the tomb on Easter morning.

Frank Marshall had never felt so confused or helpless in his entire life. He sat in his car, in his private parking space before the corporate office of the company he had singlehandedly built. But the sight of his professional domain failed to comfort him, as it always had before. All that he had worked so hard for was crashing down around him, and, for the first time in his life, he was at a loss as to how to stop it.

Doubt has been around for a long time. At least as long as faith and trust. At least as long as the story of the stilling of the storm in Mark's gospel. At least as long as my professional experience as a minister. That's why I think by the time I'm finished, you will know what I mean when I say that the Lord doesn't put as much stock in our doubts and uncertainties as we sometimes do.

When Paul arrived at the city of Corinth, Greece, the middle of the first century A.D., he knew he had a challenge on his hands. Located on the isthmus between the Gulf of Corinth and the Saronic Gulf, Corinth was a prosperous port city where boats were transported overland from the Aegean to the Adriatic, thereby cutting many dangerous miles off their voyage. The marketplace abounded with goods and traders from many lands. Though never known as a center of learning, traveling philosophers and teachers attempted to gain a hearing and earn a living.

I chaperoned a fourth grade class on a field trip to the Olde Mystic Village and Seaport. Five children, ages nine and ten, were entrusted to my care for the day. At one point we sat in the bandstand, a large gazebo-type structure in the center of the Village Green, for a demonstration of nineteenth century music that sailors aboard the sea vessels might have enjoyed: peppy tunes on the banjo and concertina, jigs and reels on the fiddle. Spontaneously, the five children in my group stomped their feet to the music, then looked at each other, arose from their seats, clasped hands, and danced!

Refrain
Rise, sovereign Lord,
Be the stronghold of all your people.
Rule, Jesus, rule.
God, we trust in you.
Show forth your might;
Triumph over the nations’ evil.
Reveal yourself, Lord, in all that is right.

1. Lord, your name is revered among us,
As the truth of your word shines on us.
Lord of life, you alone are the story;
All our praises redound to your glory.
Rise up, Lord. Rise up, Lord. Refrain

2. As we sing unto you our praises,
Hear the song that your church now raises;