Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger. (Psalm 8:2)
Olivia went out of the QuikTrip store last night, dashing ahead of me. As she neared the car, I turned to the clerk. “I’m not sure where she’s rushing off to. The car’s locked.” Then she opened the door. Normally I don’t fret excessively about leaving my car unlocked for a quick stop, but my computer lay in the back set last night. That’s rather careless.
How many locks do we use in the course of a day? This morning, already, I’ve used that car lock for both the door and the ignition. I used my password to access campus wireless in a classroom. I had to supply a password to log in and add this post. The classroom door was locked, but someone had beaten me to that, and Nathan had already unlocked the office door. By the time the day is over, I’ll probably employ several other locks of various sorts.
When it comes to passwords, various computer systems evaluate our attempts, rating them from “weak” to “very strong.” I tend to prefer “very easy to remember,” but I realize that such security is rather illusive.
The purpose of locks is to keep the wrong people out and to protect the people and property within. Whether they be cyber security or metal deadbolts, car alarms or The Club, stronger inevitably appears to be better.
How strange then, that David, a military man, should talk about building a stronghold–a fortress, essentially–out of the praises of children. How exactly does that work? I suppose it works a little like sending an unarmored shepherd boy, armed with a sling and some rocks, to fight the Philistine giant. When the big man goes down at the hands of the boy, how much greater is the praise of God?
I tend to look at this verse in this manner. If God can create security out of the praise of children, then he must be a very powerful God indeed. My car is locked right now, but my real trust is in the Lord God.