Lectio Divina on Psalm 89
By TaeHun Yoon

1. Basic Prayer in Silence (Silent Preparation):

I entered into stillness. Sitting quietly, I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. My shoulders dropped. My heart slowed. In my imagination, I walked into the sanctuary and sat in the front pew—my familiar place of communion with God.

With a heart burdened by grief, I offered a prayer through the words of Charles Wesley’s hymn:

“If death my friend and me divide, Thou dost not, Lord, my sorrow chide, Or frown my tears to see…”

The verses carried my sorrow gently before the Lord. The lines became my voice, my lament, and my hope.

2. Lectio (Reading the Word):

I opened the Scriptures and read Psalm 89:1–52 slowly, carefully, aloud and silently—through multiple translations.

One phrase rose like a whisper becoming a shout in my soul:

“Eternally faithful and sincere is God to the anointed one, to David and his people.

They could call Him, ‘Father.’”

3. Meditatio (Meditation — Reflecting with the Heart):

As I lingered with those words, I recalled the message from the church office:

“Our beloved church member, Bill Hogan, passed away yesterday morning from a heart attack. It came as a great shock to us all.”

My heart ached for Jan and her family. I let the Psalm speak again:

“Your love, God, is my song—I’ll sing it! The people who know the celebratory shout are truly happy! They walk in the light of your presence, Lord. They rejoice in your name all day long, And are lifted high by your righteousness Because you are the beauty of their strength. …David will cry out to Me: ‘You are my Father, My God, the rock of my salvation.’” (vv. 1, 15–17, 26)

4. Oratio (Prayer — Responding to God):

With these verses, my heart responded:

“Yes, Lord. You are the beauty of our strength. You are the rock we stand on, especially in the valley of grief. Be near to the Hogan family. Be near to us all. Teach us to call You ‘Father’ not only in life—but also in death.”

5. Contemplatio (Contemplation — Resting in God):

I rose within myself and walked toward the altar—inwardly, prayerfully. I let go of thoughts and words. I waited in silence.

No expectations. Just presence.

Then—without warning—a holy image emerged.

I stood beside Bill Hogan at the Clingmans Dome observation tower. We looked out across the crown of the Smoky Mountains, surrounded by clouds and silence.

We turned to one another, and without speaking, we raised our hands and cried out:

“Father, You are the rock of my salvation!”

“Blessed be God forever and always! Yes—Oh, yes!”

6. Incarnatio (Embodiment — Living the Word):

I returned to my chair. Slowly, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The Psalm had moved from Scripture into life. From David’s lips to ours. From sorrow to eternal joy.

Bill’s voice, now part of that celebratory shout, echoed in my soul:

“Blessed be God forever and always!”

7. Ruminatio (Spiritual Remembrance — Chewing the Word):

The sacred phrases lingered, like incense in the sanctuary:

“Your love, O Lord, is my song.”

“You are my Father.”

“The rock of my salvation.”

These words return to me still—in prayer, in memory, in silence.

Though I mourn, I do not mourn alone. The Lord, eternally faithful and full of mercy, has made an everlasting covenant.

And that is enough for today.

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