As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him. For he knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust.
(Psalm 103: 13-14 NRSV)

It is an e-mail that has made the rounds. You may have seen it. It doesn’t ask you to do anything (send this to everybody you know); it doesn’t promise anything (something wonderful will happen to you a week from next Thursday); it doesn’t threaten anything (if you don’t forward this, it means you don’t love God). It is just there. A cousin sent it to me, and it spoke gently and truthfully to my heart, and so I want to share part of it with you.

“Every time I am asked to pray, I think of the old deacon who always prayed, ‘Lord, prop us up on our leanin’ side.’ After hearing him pray that prayer many times, someone asked him why he prayed that prayer so fervently. He answered, ‘Well, sir, you see, it’s like this … I got an old barn out back. It’s been there a long time; it’s withstood a lot of weather; it’s gone through a lot of storms; and it’s stood for many years. It’s still standing, but one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit. So I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn’t fall.’”

The author goes on to compare himself to that old barn: been around a long time, withstood many storms, still standing. Even so, he finds himself leaning from time to time, and figuring that is not unique to him, he asks the Lord to prop all of us up “on our leanin’ side.”

The story continues, “Sometimes we get to leaning toward anger, … toward bitterness, … toward hatred, … toward a lot of things that we shouldn’t. So we need to pray, ‘Lord, prop us up on our leaning side,’ so we will stand straight and tall again, to glorify the Lord.”

It is plain folksy wisdom, in the soft syllables of our Appalachian heritage; perhaps that is one reason I love it so. But it also describes the human condition, accurately and humbly.

Walking straight and tall is not our strong suit. We tend toward sinfulness. Like the knight in Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass,” who kept falling off the path to one side or the other (and those who play chess will note that a chess knight behaves in much the same way: forward and then to one side or the other), we start well, but fall to the wayside, over and over and over again.

Sometimes we don’t actually fall, but we do lean. Oh, how we lean! And it is always to our advantage to get propped up before we fall. It saves us from bumps and bruises, as well as from smashing those upon whom we land.

The Psalm in which David says that God “knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust,” is at once consoling and frustrating. Of course God remembers how we were made. God did the making! And now that David mentions it, why didn’t God use better raw materials than dust, for heaven’s sake – literally, for heaven’s sake as well as the earth’s?

Well, dust is obviously more pliable than gold or wood, and steadier than water, and once God’s breath is breathed into it, one would suppose that it would be exalted into something better than dust. The truth is, it was, but that pliability factor comes into play, and the exalted dust is still dust, and tends to lean.

This is where it is helpful to read Psalm 103 all the way through. In graceful poetry, it declares God’s goodness, God’s forgiveness and mercy and redemption and healing, God’s steadfast love. And so, David begins and ends the psalm with these words: “Bless the Lord, O my soul.”

And Lord, prop us up on the leanin’ side.