My heart is filled with longing for your laws at all times…LORD, I call out to you with all my heart (Psalm 119:20, 145).

One more reflection on Psalm 119. Via this Psalm we have explored what it might mean that David was 'a man after God's own heart' (Acts 13:22). We have looked at four things that may have caused God to describe him this way: obedience, humility, integrity and worship.

Today, something that brings these different things together. Not something at the top of the list, but something, pardon the pun, that lies at the heart of the matter.

Years ago, I read a book called, When Did We Start Forgetting God? It argues that Christians talk a lot about God and do lots of things for God, but we have, in large part, forgotten him. It suggested that a church that has not forgotten God exhibits one principal characteristic: a desire for God—a desire so intense it sometimes looks like drunkenness or even madness.

That is what is missing in much of Christendom today. We have lost our desire for God. It is easier for us to be doing things for God and to be talking and yes, preaching and preparing devotions about God, than to fan into flame a desire for him.

If you doubt me, listen to David, "You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water" (Psalm 63:1). "One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple" (Psalm 27:4). We see this in the New Testament where, Paul writes, "Everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him" (Philippians 3:8-9).

I could go on. There are many other examples of this in the Bible. They are rooted in the summary of the law as Jesus gives it, "You must love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength" (Mark 12:30).

I hinted at this in my previous devotions. But I think that any reflections on what it means to be a person after God's own heart that does not ponder this, a deep desire for God, falls short. It is this longing for him, that causes God to describe David this way.

If someone were to ask you, 'What do you want more than anything?" Would you answer simply, "God!"? I'm not sure many of us Christians would answer that way. Our desires wander so easily. Thus, I invite you to pray for yourself, pray for your church leaders, pray for the church, that the Holy Spirit would fill us with the desire that filled David.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

"May God himself, the God who makes everything holy and whole, make you holy and whole, put you together—spirit, soul, and body—and keep you fit for the coming of our Master, Jesus Christ. The One who called you is completely dependable. If he said it, he'll do it" (1 Thessalonians 5:23).

"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters…You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands (Isaiah 55:1, 12).

On Friday, we considered the opening verses of Isaiah 55. Today, we focus on verse 12. This is not merely a poetic flourish. It is the picture of what happens when God restores his people. Those who once walked in exile now walk in freedom. The journey with God is not a forced march but a joyful procession. Joy becomes the atmosphere; peace becomes the guide.

Notice that creation itself joins the celebration. Mountains sing. Trees clap. The world is portrayed as a grand sanctuary echoing with praise because God is making all things right. When the Lord redeems his people, the effects ripple outward. Salvation is never small or private. It touches hearts, communities, and ultimately the whole creation which already longs for renewal.

It's important to pay attention to what lies between the invitation that opens the chapter and the sending that draws it to a close. Three things are considered. First, God renews his covenant with his people. In the covenant, he both calls them to himself and sends them out as his witnesses.

Second, God calls his people to leave behind their wicked ways; to repent of their unrighteous thoughts. This call is companioned with the promise of forgiveness. His mercy will cover our sin. We may feel burdened by regret, worry, or weariness. Yet God promises a future shaped not by fear but by joy, not by chaos but by peace. He leads his people forward, not alone but surrounded by the testimony of his faithfulness.

Third, God reminds us of his powerful Word. That Word we know as both his creating and redeeming Word. It is beyond our comprehension in power, potential and mercy. Here is an invitation not to understand but to trust that Word. A Word that not only redeems us but transforms all of creation.

Hopefully, you had opportunity to join God's people in worship this past weekend. And hopefully, you caught glimpses of these things. In worship, God's covenant with us is renewed, we hear his call to holiness, and we enter a new week with hopefulness and courage. God goes before us with his redeeming and transforming Word.

Walk with this vision before you: a path lined with singing hills and applauding trees. Even when the road feels ordinary or uncertain, God is still leading. His redemption turns journeys of struggle into pilgrimages of praise. And as we follow him, our lives begin to echo the song of creation itself, proclaiming that the Lord is faithful and his restoration is sure.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

Wherever God takes you today (this week), may He fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit and that you may live carefully—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity.

"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live" (Isaiah 55:1-3).

God's invitation in our text is worth repeated reflection and meditation. It needs savouring. It requires deep breathing so that we discern its various aromas. It must seep down into our hearts to expose all the ways in which we labour for things that do not satisfy. We must sit with it long enough to experience its fullness. As it fills us, the empty food we've eaten is revealed for its deception.

Year's ago, someone paraphrased it like this, "The Sabbath day is God's market day for the week's provision wherein God will have us come to him and buy of him, without silver or money, the bread of angels, and water of life, the wine of the sacrament, and milk of the Word to feed our souls; tried gold to enrich our faith; precious eye-salve to heal our spiritual blindness; and the white clothing of Christ's righteousness to cover our filthy nakedness."

More recently, Eugene Peterson offered this paraphrase, "Hey there! All who are thirsty, come to the water! Are you penniless? Come anyway—buy and eat! Come, buy your drinks, buy wine and milk. Buy without money—everything's free! Why do you spend your money on junk food, your hard-earned cash on cotton candy? Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best, fill yourself with only the finest. Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words."

On God's market day, we need to cease our serving so we can be served. We need to cease our grasping so we can reflect on what we've been given. We need to stop talking, so we can hear Jesus say, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." There's no need to fight for our clothing in the sanctuary; here we are clothed in Christ. In the sanctuary we are immersed in God's strange and upside-down economy in which the currency of the world has no value.

On Sunday, we must cease in our calling to do our work, that the Lord may do his work in us. If all of life is worship, the sanctuary is the place where we learn how. In other words, gathered worship equips us for our scattered worship in the world. The sanctuary practices us into the gracious work of God.

I've used the words Sunday and sanctuary intentionally, yet recognizing that some must work on Sundays, and some are not physically able to come to public worship. For various reasons, the perceived need for public worship has been diminishing. But there is good reason to refresh the discipline. The church has long recognized that God does not form individual Christians, but he forms a people, his people. We need each other and we are formed together.

Public worship functions like a training ground, a spiritual gymnasium for our souls. We come for eye surgery. We cannot return to the world until our priesthood has been repaired. We come to be ministered to so that we can minister outside the sanctuary.

As you journey on, hear Jesus' invitation:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matthew 11:28-29).