#2 Holy Wit – Reflections
(WW – Wisdom and Worship – Psalm 78; Psalm 34)
Scripture References: Psalm 78:1–8; Psalm 34:11–14
There are certain phrases children hear so often growing up that they become part of the structural framing of reality itself.
You don’t even notice them while they’re happening.
“Turn the lights off if you’re not in there.”
“Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“Close the door. Were you raised in a barn?”
And, in some homes:
“Well, thank the Lord for that.”
I knew an older woman years ago who said that phrase constantly. Not with dramatic flair. Not in a “television preacher asking for seed money” sort of way. Just woven naturally into ordinary life.
Rain finally arrived after a dry stretch? “Thank the Lord.”
Grandchild made it home safe? “Thank the Lord.”
Doctor visit turned out alright? “The Lord was kind.”
Found the car keys after accusing half the household of theft? “Well praise God for that.”
At the time, some of us younger people found it mildly amusing because she said it about absolutely everything. Burnt toast narrowly avoided. Coupons accepted unexpectedly. Garden tomatoes surviving an ambitious rabbit assault.
Nothing was apparently too small for gratitude.
But years later I realized something important: she was teaching theology continuously without ever standing behind a pulpit.
Psalm 78 says, “We will not hide them from their children, telling to the generation to come the praises of the LORD.”
That is a heavier responsibility than many people realize.
Because children are always learning theology somewhere.
Not necessarily formally. Rarely through lectures. Mostly through atmosphere.
They learn what adults actually fear.
They learn what adults truly worship.
They learn what adults believe matters by observing where excitement, anxiety, praise, and attention consistently flow.
A household may possess three Bibles, two devotionals, and a decorative plaque involving Joshua 24:15 while still practically teaching its children that sports, money, image, politics, career advancement, and panic are the real governing powers of the universe.
Children notice patterns long before they understand doctrines.
If every conversation in a home eventually bends toward outrage, complaint, and fear, children absorb that rhythm.
But if they repeatedly hear gratitude, worship, prayer, and confidence in God’s faithfulness, that shapes them too.
Psalm 78 understands something modern culture often forgets: faith is not merely inherited biologically, but it is absolutely transmitted relationally.
One generation tells another.
Or fails to.
And human beings are astonishingly forgetful creatures.
That is one reason the Psalms spend so much time recounting God’s works repeatedly. Israel continually forgot what God had already done for them. The Red Sea parted, manna fell from heaven, enemies were defeated — and three chapters later somebody was already panicking because lunch arrangements looked uncertain.
Frankly, modern believers are not dramatically different.
God answers prayer and we celebrate for approximately six and a half minutes before returning to existential dread over tomorrow’s electricity bill.
So Scripture repeatedly commands remembrance.
And praise is one of the great engines of remembrance.
That older woman I mentioned probably never considered herself especially profound. But looking back, I suspect she understood something many educated people miss entirely.
Praise trains the heart.
Every “thank the Lord” was a tiny theological recalibration. A reminder that life was not self-sustaining. A refusal to drift into practical atheism while technically remaining religious.
And over decades, those repetitions matter.
Psalm 34 says, “Come, you children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD.”
Notice the assumption there: reverence must be taught deliberately.
Not merely by sermons.
By life.
By habits.
By repeated remembrance.
By ordinary conversation.
By the quiet patterns children absorb while sitting at kitchen tables listening to adults interpret reality.
That is why praise matters so much.
Not because God needs flattery from nervous humans trying to stay on His good side. The Psalms are not teaching cosmic ego management.
Praise reorients us.
It reminds forgetful people who God is.
And perhaps one of the greatest gifts an older believer can give the next generation is not merely instruction, but a household atmosphere where gratitude toward God becomes normal enough that children grow up assuming, quite reasonably:
“Apparently the Lord is involved in everything.”
Which, of course, He is.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WWWisdomAndWorship #Psalm78
(WW – Wisdom and Worship – Psalm 78; Psalm 34)
Scripture References: Psalm 78:1–8; Psalm 34:11–14
There are certain phrases children hear so often growing up that they become part of the structural framing of reality itself.
You don’t even notice them while they’re happening.
“Turn the lights off if you’re not in there.”
“Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“Close the door. Were you raised in a barn?”
And, in some homes:
“Well, thank the Lord for that.”
I knew an older woman years ago who said that phrase constantly. Not with dramatic flair. Not in a “television preacher asking for seed money” sort of way. Just woven naturally into ordinary life.
Rain finally arrived after a dry stretch? “Thank the Lord.”
Grandchild made it home safe? “Thank the Lord.”
Doctor visit turned out alright? “The Lord was kind.”
Found the car keys after accusing half the household of theft? “Well praise God for that.”
At the time, some of us younger people found it mildly amusing because she said it about absolutely everything. Burnt toast narrowly avoided. Coupons accepted unexpectedly. Garden tomatoes surviving an ambitious rabbit assault.
Nothing was apparently too small for gratitude.
But years later I realized something important: she was teaching theology continuously without ever standing behind a pulpit.
Psalm 78 says, “We will not hide them from their children, telling to the generation to come the praises of the LORD.”
That is a heavier responsibility than many people realize.
Because children are always learning theology somewhere.
Not necessarily formally. Rarely through lectures. Mostly through atmosphere.
They learn what adults actually fear.
They learn what adults truly worship.
They learn what adults believe matters by observing where excitement, anxiety, praise, and attention consistently flow.
A household may possess three Bibles, two devotionals, and a decorative plaque involving Joshua 24:15 while still practically teaching its children that sports, money, image, politics, career advancement, and panic are the real governing powers of the universe.
Children notice patterns long before they understand doctrines.
If every conversation in a home eventually bends toward outrage, complaint, and fear, children absorb that rhythm.
But if they repeatedly hear gratitude, worship, prayer, and confidence in God’s faithfulness, that shapes them too.
Psalm 78 understands something modern culture often forgets: faith is not merely inherited biologically, but it is absolutely transmitted relationally.
One generation tells another.
Or fails to.
And human beings are astonishingly forgetful creatures.
That is one reason the Psalms spend so much time recounting God’s works repeatedly. Israel continually forgot what God had already done for them. The Red Sea parted, manna fell from heaven, enemies were defeated — and three chapters later somebody was already panicking because lunch arrangements looked uncertain.
Frankly, modern believers are not dramatically different.
God answers prayer and we celebrate for approximately six and a half minutes before returning to existential dread over tomorrow’s electricity bill.
So Scripture repeatedly commands remembrance.
And praise is one of the great engines of remembrance.
That older woman I mentioned probably never considered herself especially profound. But looking back, I suspect she understood something many educated people miss entirely.
Praise trains the heart.
Every “thank the Lord” was a tiny theological recalibration. A reminder that life was not self-sustaining. A refusal to drift into practical atheism while technically remaining religious.
And over decades, those repetitions matter.
Psalm 34 says, “Come, you children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD.”
Notice the assumption there: reverence must be taught deliberately.
Not merely by sermons.
By life.
By habits.
By repeated remembrance.
By ordinary conversation.
By the quiet patterns children absorb while sitting at kitchen tables listening to adults interpret reality.
That is why praise matters so much.
Not because God needs flattery from nervous humans trying to stay on His good side. The Psalms are not teaching cosmic ego management.
Praise reorients us.
It reminds forgetful people who God is.
And perhaps one of the greatest gifts an older believer can give the next generation is not merely instruction, but a household atmosphere where gratitude toward God becomes normal enough that children grow up assuming, quite reasonably:
“Apparently the Lord is involved in everything.”
Which, of course, He is.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WWWisdomAndWorship #Psalm78
#2 Holy Wit – Reflections
(WW – Wisdom and Worship – Psalm 78; Psalm 34)
Scripture References: Psalm 78:1–8; Psalm 34:11–14
There are certain phrases children hear so often growing up that they become part of the structural framing of reality itself.
You don’t even notice them while they’re happening.
“Turn the lights off if you’re not in there.”
“Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“Close the door. Were you raised in a barn?”
And, in some homes:
“Well, thank the Lord for that.”
I knew an older woman years ago who said that phrase constantly. Not with dramatic flair. Not in a “television preacher asking for seed money” sort of way. Just woven naturally into ordinary life.
Rain finally arrived after a dry stretch? “Thank the Lord.”
Grandchild made it home safe? “Thank the Lord.”
Doctor visit turned out alright? “The Lord was kind.”
Found the car keys after accusing half the household of theft? “Well praise God for that.”
At the time, some of us younger people found it mildly amusing because she said it about absolutely everything. Burnt toast narrowly avoided. Coupons accepted unexpectedly. Garden tomatoes surviving an ambitious rabbit assault.
Nothing was apparently too small for gratitude.
But years later I realized something important: she was teaching theology continuously without ever standing behind a pulpit.
Psalm 78 says, “We will not hide them from their children, telling to the generation to come the praises of the LORD.”
That is a heavier responsibility than many people realize.
Because children are always learning theology somewhere.
Not necessarily formally. Rarely through lectures. Mostly through atmosphere.
They learn what adults actually fear.
They learn what adults truly worship.
They learn what adults believe matters by observing where excitement, anxiety, praise, and attention consistently flow.
A household may possess three Bibles, two devotionals, and a decorative plaque involving Joshua 24:15 while still practically teaching its children that sports, money, image, politics, career advancement, and panic are the real governing powers of the universe.
Children notice patterns long before they understand doctrines.
If every conversation in a home eventually bends toward outrage, complaint, and fear, children absorb that rhythm.
But if they repeatedly hear gratitude, worship, prayer, and confidence in God’s faithfulness, that shapes them too.
Psalm 78 understands something modern culture often forgets: faith is not merely inherited biologically, but it is absolutely transmitted relationally.
One generation tells another.
Or fails to.
And human beings are astonishingly forgetful creatures.
That is one reason the Psalms spend so much time recounting God’s works repeatedly. Israel continually forgot what God had already done for them. The Red Sea parted, manna fell from heaven, enemies were defeated — and three chapters later somebody was already panicking because lunch arrangements looked uncertain.
Frankly, modern believers are not dramatically different.
God answers prayer and we celebrate for approximately six and a half minutes before returning to existential dread over tomorrow’s electricity bill.
So Scripture repeatedly commands remembrance.
And praise is one of the great engines of remembrance.
That older woman I mentioned probably never considered herself especially profound. But looking back, I suspect she understood something many educated people miss entirely.
Praise trains the heart.
Every “thank the Lord” was a tiny theological recalibration. A reminder that life was not self-sustaining. A refusal to drift into practical atheism while technically remaining religious.
And over decades, those repetitions matter.
Psalm 34 says, “Come, you children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD.”
Notice the assumption there: reverence must be taught deliberately.
Not merely by sermons.
By life.
By habits.
By repeated remembrance.
By ordinary conversation.
By the quiet patterns children absorb while sitting at kitchen tables listening to adults interpret reality.
That is why praise matters so much.
Not because God needs flattery from nervous humans trying to stay on His good side. The Psalms are not teaching cosmic ego management.
Praise reorients us.
It reminds forgetful people who God is.
And perhaps one of the greatest gifts an older believer can give the next generation is not merely instruction, but a household atmosphere where gratitude toward God becomes normal enough that children grow up assuming, quite reasonably:
“Apparently the Lord is involved in everything.”
Which, of course, He is.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WWWisdomAndWorship #Psalm78
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