Sermon for Sunday, July 12, 2026 || Proper 10A || Psalm 119:105-112

I don’t often preach about the psalm, but today’s reading begins with a particularly beautiful verse that captured my imagination this Tuesday, my normal sermon writing day. I was planning on writing at the Westerly Library while my kids were at theatre camp, but the back rear tire of my car had a screw embedded in it, causing a slow leak. Thankfully the guys at Town Fair Tire could take my walk in. I grabbed a seat in the waiting area, under harsh fluorescent lights, trying to ignore America’s Funniest Videos on the TV. I sat there, hoping the Holy Spirit would nudge me toward some words to share with you. (Don’t worry, the tire place will become important in a few minutes; I’m not just talking about it to pad the length of this sermon.)

I thought about Jacob and Esau for a few minutes, but nothing struck me beyond the transactional nature of their relationship. The Romans passage was opaque to me this time around. And I’ve preached on the Parable of the Sower so many times, I’ve run out of things to say. I was beginning to despair, and the overwhelming smell of tires was getting to me, when I looked again at today’s psalm, an eight verse section of Psalm 119, by far the longest psalm in the book. And I read these words:

“Your word is a lantern to my feet and a light upon my path.”

Immediately, the lyrics of Amy Grant’s famous worship song popped into my head:

Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet 
And a light unto my path
When I feel afraid
Think I’ve lost my way
Still you’re there right beside me
And nothing will I fear
As long as you are near
Please be near me to the end

My friend Joe Kent introduced me to this song when he and I were putting together a guitar service for Trinity Episcopal Church in Martinsburg, West Virginia. We played a bluegrass version as one of the hymns, and I’ve loved the song ever since. I love the song because, in simple words, it takes the poetry of the psalm’s verse to its logical conclusion. Everyone of us is staggering around in the dark. We hope there’s a path laid out for us, but we can’t see it. So we stumble this way and that, hoping our feet find their way. That is just how life works, even for those who seem to have everything put together.

The fear of the unknown future is the most potent and universal of fears. And this fear only grows with every stressor that comes upon us. Those who live on the financial brink wonder what they’ll do if they have an unexpected medical bill or car repair. Those who live in unstable family situations wonder what will meet them when next they enter the house. Those who live with undiagnosed health issues wonder if a doctor will ever figure it out. Those are three common stressors. We could name a hundred more, even those of us who are on the more secure end of the spectrum.

Our stressors fog up an already foggy future. We peer into the mist and see only darkness. The hairs stand up on the backs of our necks. We’re afraid – afraid because we have no control, afraid because we can’t foretell what’s to come, afraid because whatever path might be set before us is narrow and winding and invisible. Have you ever felt like that? I know I have.

And that’s why the psalm’s verse is so powerful. Into the fear that Amy Grant’s song helps us confront, the Word of God shines a light. But notice the poetry. It’s not the light of day. It’s not the sun shining bright and clearly showing our path stretching into the distance. The Word of God is a lantern to our feet. This lantern does not shine on the destination. The lantern shines on the path, the immediate path, the next step along the way. For the next step is the only one we can take. We can’t leap ahead. We can’t jump to the end of the road. We can only put one foot in front of the other, illumined by God’s Word.

This Word of God is a divine double entendre. The Word of God is our encounter with God in Holy Scripture, and the Word of God is the One who brings all things into being, the One who shines a light that the darkness cannot comprehend, the One we know through God’s revelation in Jesus Christ. We meet this Word when, through prayer and practice, we come to ourselves in the present moment, when we recognize that the present moment is all there ever is. We can look to the past for memories of God’s presence. We can project our faith into the future in the form of hope. But we can only ever encounter God’s enlivening Word in the sacred moment we call Now.

And that’s why my writing this sermon in the Town Fair Tire waiting area is important. On Tuesday morning, I wasn’t expecting to need the services of tire experts. I had my whole morning planned out. I was going to drop off the kids at theatre camp and go write in the lovely reading room at the Westerly Library. I ended up at the tire place under the harsh fluorescence, assaulted by the headache inducing smell of tires, and still trying to ignore America’s Funniest Videos. And yet, the Holy Spirit nudged me to write these words. God’s Word could find me at the tire store. God’s word can encounter us anywhere, shining a light upon our path, and reminding us that we are not alone.

I’d like to finish this sermon today by singing Amy Grant’s song “Thy Word,” which she wrote with Michael W. Smith. As you listen, I invite you to close your eyes, breath slowly in and out, and ask God to bring you more fully into this present moment. The only step available to us is the next one, and, thanks be to God, the Word lights the way.

Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path

When I feel afraid
Think I’ve lost my way
Still you’re there right beside me
And nothing will I fear
As long as you are near
Please be near me to the end

Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path

I will not forget
Your love for me and yet
My heart forever is wandering
Jesus be my guide
And hold me to your side
I will love you to the end
Nothing will I fear as long as you are near
Please be near me to the end

Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path
And a light unto my path
You’re the light unto my path 

(Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant, 2000)

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Photo by Julia Florczak on Unsplash.