Psalm 113: 1-9 (links validated 8/17/25a)

In a student sermon that I read quite recently, I encountered (not for the first time) the rather famous story about George Mueller, a man who ran many orphanages in Bristol, England, once upon a time. One morning 300 orphans gathered for breakfast but on that day there was no food in the kitchen to give them. So Mueller prayed to God for food and then along with the expectant children, he waited. A knock came on the door from a baker who claimed he had not been able to sleep the night prior and so baked a lot of bread on the feeling these orphans might need it that day. Next a man who delivered milk knocked on the door to say his cart had broken down and it could not be repaired in time enough to prevent the milk from spoiling and so the children got that milk. As I said, the recent student sermon that included this story was not the first time I read a sermon that used this tale. It may well be a true story—though like anything you can find contrary opinions on the internet—but it is used as a testament to the power of prayer. Problem is that each time a student includes this story, I have to remind them—unless they already had thought of this to begin with—to include the caveat that prayer does not always work with such swiftness and success, though sometimes it does. It reminds me of an episode of the classic TV series M*A*S*H in which the MASH unit’s priest, Father Mulcahy, has been complaining about not feeling as useful as the doctors and nurses and corpsmen who could actually do useful things for the wounded soldiers whereas all he could do was pray. Then one day as a soldier on an operating table was going down the tubes, the Father prayed over him and suddenly the soldier came around and began to get well. “You sure you’re not useful?” one of the doctors asked the priest. “It’s not supposed to work that way, you know” was the Father’s reply!

My Old Testament Professor John Stek once used this analogy: suppose a widowed young mother works her whole life to give her son, Charlie, the best possible life. Suppose she toils in some sweat-shop during the day and scrubs toilets in an office building by night just to scrape together enough money to give her son decent clothing, education, food, and shelter. But suppose Charlie is an ignorant clod who little notices his mother’s efforts and who even squanders a good bit of what his mother gives him. Suppose that instead of fulfilling any of his mother’s hopes for him, he spends his time with unsavory denizens of cheap bars and tawdry brothels. So suppose one day, after having her son once again tell his old lady to get lost, suppose this mother finally says, “Son, I deserve better than this from you! I deserve more gratitude than you’ve ever given to me–in fact, out of sheer respect you should try a lot harder to live a decent life.” Now, would you conclude this woman was arrogant and vain, looking for praise out of a conceited desire to ratchet up her ego a few clicks? Hardly. It would be only fitting if such a son were to thank his mother. Anything less would be rude.

I began to work on Psalm 113 in the midst of the Summer Olympics in August. You will preach on it several weeks later, but the memory of the Olympics may offer you a way to connect your listeners to this ancient Psalm. The Olympic motto is "Faster, Higher, Stronger," urging athletes to elevate themselves by their own effort. The Olympic hope is that through sports a diverse and divided world will be drawn together into a closer human family...

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