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Our days and the Lord's years (Psalm 102:1-28)

Hywel Jones, July 21, 2013
Part of the Miscellaneous series, preached at a Sunday Morning service

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https://www.bethel-clydach.co.uk/sermons/?show&file_name=2013-07-21-am.mp3 Download
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Psalm 102 (Listen)

A Prayer of one afflicted, when he is faint and pours out his complaint before the LORD.

102:1   Hear my prayer, O LORD;
  let my cry come to you!
2   Do not hide your face from me
    in the day of my distress!
  Incline your ear to me;
    answer me speedily in the day when I call!
3   For my days pass away like smoke,
    and my bones burn like a furnace.
4   My heart is struck down like grass and has withered;
    I forget to eat my bread.
5   Because of my loud groaning
    my bones cling to my flesh.
6   I am like a desert owl of the wilderness,
    like an owl of the waste places;
7   I lie awake;
    I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.
8   All the day my enemies taunt me;
    those who deride me use my name for a curse.
9   For I eat ashes like bread
    and mingle tears with my drink,
10   because of your indignation and anger;
    for you have taken me up and thrown me down.
11   My days are like an evening shadow;
    I wither away like grass.
12   But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever;
    you are remembered throughout all generations.
13   You will arise and have pity on Zion;
    it is the time to favor her;
    the appointed time has come.
14   For your servants hold her stones dear
    and have pity on her dust.
15   Nations will fear the name of the LORD,
    and all the kings of the earth will fear your glory.
16   For the LORD builds up Zion;
    he appears in his glory;
17   he regards the prayer of the destitute
    and does not despise their prayer.
18   Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
    so that a people yet to be created may praise the LORD:
19   that he looked down from his holy height;
    from heaven the LORD looked at the earth,
20   to hear the groans of the prisoners,
    to set free those who were doomed to die,
21   that they may declare in Zion the name of the LORD,
    and in Jerusalem his praise,
22   when peoples gather together,
    and kingdoms, to worship the LORD.
23   He has broken my strength in midcourse;
    he has shortened my days.
24   “O my God,” I say, “take me not away
    in the midst of my days—
  you whose years endure
    throughout all generations!”
25   Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,
    and the heavens are the work of your hands.
26   They will perish, but you will remain;
    they will all wear out like a garment.
  You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,
27     but you are the same, and your years have no end.
28   The children of your servants shall dwell secure;
    their offspring shall be established before you.

(ESV)

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There's something on most days of the week, but our two Sunday services at 10:30am and 6:00pm are our focus. Both services include prayer, singing and Bible teaching, and we sing a mix of traditional and more modern hymns. In the morning there's a short talk for the children, before they go downstairs for Sunday School. In both services there's a 35 minute message from the Bible (you can listen to previous sermons online).
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Tamar Pollard’s story

“Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood.”

Thirteen years ago the question of forgiveness became a very real one for me. Every summer my whole family (me, Mum, Dad and younger brother and sister), packed into a caravanette full of aid: food, clothes, medicine and Bibles and journeyed off to Eastern Europe, for six weeks. This particular year, when Mum and Dad approached the Romanian border, the lights failed on the vehicle. They stopped in a lay-by to wait for daylight, but were soon disturbed by a loud bangs. Dad clambered into the cab and put the key into the ignition. Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood. Questions began to flood my mind. Questions like: “Do I really believe God exists and is in control?”, “Do I really believe God is good and his plans are perfect?”, “Do I really believe God sent his son, Jesus into the world?”, “Do I believe Jesus died in my place, to take the punishment I deserve?”. And as I answered yes to each and every one of them, I was then left with the question, “Well, how am I going to respond?”
Read more of Tamar Pollard’s story

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