O, Beloved!

Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!

– Psalm 34:8

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As a lion or a young lion growls over his prey…

– Isaiah 31:4

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But I am like a deaf man; I do not hear, like a mute man who does not open his mouth. I have become like a man who does not hear, and in whose mouth are no rebukes. But for you, O LORD, do I wait; it is you, O Lord my God, who will answer.

– Psalm 38:13–15

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Years ago I owned a dog who had a fondness for large bones. Fortunately for him, we lived in the forested foothills of Montana. In his forest rambles, he often came across a carcass of a white-tailed deer that had been brought down by the coyotes. Later he would show up on our stone, lakeside patio carrying or dragging his trophy, usually a shank or a rib; he was a small dog and the bone was often nearly as large as he was. Anyone who has owned a dog knows the routine: he would prance and gambol playfully before us with his prize, wagging his tail, proud of his find, courting our approval. And of course, we approved: we lavished praise, telling him what a good dog he was. But after awhile, sated with our applause, he would drag the bone off twenty yards or so to a more private place, usually the shade of a large moss-covered boulder, and go to work on the bone. The social aspects of the bone were behind him; now the pleasure became solitary. He gnawed the bone, turned it over and around, licked it, worried it. Sometimes we could hear a low rumble or growl, what in a cat would be a purr. He was obviously enjoying himself and in no hurry. After a leisurely couple hours, he would bury it and return the next day to take it up again. An average bone lasted about a week.

I always took delight in my dog’s delight, his playful seriousness, his childlike spontaneities now totally absorbed in “the one thing needful.” But imagine my further delight in coming upon a phrase one day while reading Isaiah in which I found the poet-prophet observing something similar to what I enjoyed so much in my dog, except that his animal was a lion instead of a dog: “As a lion or a young lion growls over his prey…” (Isa. 31:4). “Growls” is the word that caught my attention and brought me that little “pop” of delight. What my dog did over his precious bone, making those low throaty rumbles of pleasure as he gnawed, enjoyed, and savored his prize, Isaiah’s lion did to his prey. The nugget of my delight was noticing the Hebrew word here translated as “growl” (hagah) but usually translated as “meditate,” as in the Psalm 1 phrase describing the blessed man or woman whose “delight is in the law of the Lord,” on which “he meditates day and night” (v. 2). Or in Psalm 63: “when I think of Thee upon my bed, and meditate on Thee in the watches of the night“ (v. 6). But Isaiah uses this word to refer to a lion growling over his prey the way my dog worried a bone.

Hagah is a word that our Hebrew ancestors used frequently for reading the kind of writing that deals with our souls. But “meditate” is far too tame a word for what is being signified. “Mediate” seems more suited to what I do in a quiet chapel on my knees with a candle burning on the altar. But when Isaiah’s lion and my dog meditated, they chewed and swallowed, using teeth and tongue, stomach and intestines: Isaiah’s lion meditating his goat (if that’s what it was); my dog meditating his bone. There is a certain kind of writing that invites this kind of reading, soft purrs and low growls as we taste and savor, anticipate and take in the sweet and spicy, mouth-watering and soul-energizing morsel words – “O taste and see that the Lord is good!” (Ps. 34:8). Isaiah uses the same word (hagah) a few pages later for the cooing of a dove (38:14). One careful reader of this text caught the spirit of the word when he said that hagah means that a person “is lost in his religion,” which is exactly what my dog was in his bone. Baron Friedrich von Hugel compared this way of reading to “letting a very slowly dissolving lozenge melt imperceptibly in your mouth.

– ‘Eat This Book’ (Eugene Peterson)

I know – beloved. (said tenderly)

You’re hungry – so very hungry. Aye.

Not hungry in a casual sort of way, like a whining child anticipating dinner-time, but (perhaps) more like someone wandering in the wilderness – famished?

Yes.

But, hark! O, my soul! Your King: Jesus, wandered for 40 days in the wilderness before being tempted. He lived the perfect life in obedience to His Father, and suffered, and died, and rose from the dead; all so that He might satisfy the insatiable hunger that ravishes your soul.

You fast: you seek to withhold your grasp, to invigorate your appetite – why? Do you remember why, beloved? You do it so that you can know Him. So that you can suffer as He suffered (albeit only a fraction of what He endured), and know Him intimately in that way!

O, my soul (gentle) – when you desire intimacy…when you long to be close…you are seeking to know your beloved, yes? You are seeking to be One, Together; to participate in every joy, every sorrow, everything! You…wish…you desire…to be bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh so that you can be united; so that you can share in their every pleasure, their every thought, their every word, their…every part of their existence. Yes?

Yes.

You’re hungry. (said exhaustedly) Good.

Your soul, then, is sick with love. Good.

Therefore, beloved, taste and see that the Lord is good. You have His Words! Notice: the verb is “taste”; it’s not “eat”, it’s not “devour” but “taste”. It’s enough for you right now; enough to be content, enough to tide you over until He comes again in glory – soon. It’s enough until the fullness of Time is revealed.

Some Day, beloved…you’ll be satisfied – in due season.

Are you hungry? Good.

Wait upon your God, beloved.