If you have ever driven down a road at a good clip all your life, and then one day done the same stretch on foot, you have experienced the surprise of seeing things you never saw before in a familiar setting. Houses that were nondescript at 40 miles per hour suddenly reveal their charm. The homogenous blur of woods becomes the homey nooks and crannies of avian life, the foraging deer, the furtive fox.

I have never been a Scripture memorizer. But as I seem to have all the time in the world in the wee hours, I thought I would occupy it productively, and Psalm 103 looked to be a reasonable length. The Bible has been cracked open to that spot for many a night, and a neighbor happening to observe my bedroom window would be puzzled to see the fitful on-and-off of lights as I work my way through 22 verses.

Verse 1:

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!”

I notice first of all that the psalmist is talking to himself. The whole psalm is, strictly speaking, a note to self—except for verses 20, 21, and 22a. Like the psalmist, I am learning the indispensability of self-talk. My fears talk to me all day, and so the truth must also. Someone once said, “What would you do to a friend who lied to you as often as your fears have?” Indeed.

I’m learning there are two kinds of counsel only in my head—the Spirit’s and the devil’s. The sphere of the “neutral” has shrunk to nonexistence for me. When James warns against “demonic” thinking, it’s interesting that in the context he is not referring to thoughts of murder or adultery but envy and selfishness. Everything tends God-ward or hell-ward.

I have become quicker at catching my little godless fantasies and rebuking them. I keep asking God to take every thought captive. It is my desire to be so filled with the Spirit that even my dreams and my spontaneous outbursts and my first reactions are spiritual. It is God’s Word itself that has emboldened me to seek in this direction.

Whether these verses are self-talk or Spirit-talk (it all becomes seamless when you’re filled with the Spirit), the psalm opens with a command: “Bless the Lord, O my soul.” And it is evident by the psalmist’s tone that the command is joyful. Who says commands are burdensome? Anyone who has tried it knows that to take a half hour walk thanking God for everything you can think of brings you home in a much better state of mind than a half hour of your mind left to its usual devices.

And if you bless God out loud, all the better. This is what I think the psalmist has in mind. Public praise is better yet. There is something of a different order of magnitude about praise that makes its way from the heart up to the lips. The angels are encouraged and the demons tremble, not to mention the effect you have on men.

“All that is within me” is a delightful qualifier. I have sometimes wondered if my desires for God are fanatical, but this verse puts that fear to rest. Everything I must do I will do. “All that is within me” means I set no time limit on answers to prayer. If He has not answered, and I have only an ounce of strength left, I will go on with that ounce of strength. If it comes to the point where I don’t have even an ounce of strength, we’ll talk about it then.

“Bless his holy Name.” His Name is a mystery to me. All I know is that it is so fearfully potent that Peter invoked it to heal a lame man, and later when he was interrogated about it, he gave double emphasis to its power: “His Name, through faith in His Name, has made this man strong” (Acts 3:16). And somehow, “The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe” (Proverbs 18:10).

To hear commentaries by Andrée Seu, click here.