NOT MY OWN

Psalm 100

A psalm. For giving grateful praise.

1 Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

2     Worship the Lord with gladness;

    come before him with joyful songs.

3 Know that the Lord is God.

    It is he who made us, and we are his[a];

    we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving

    and his courts with praise;

    give thanks to him and praise his name.

5 For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

    his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Footnotes

Psalm 100:3 Or and not we ourselves

This is a classic psalm—one many of us memorized as kids and still hold dear today. In fact, I think they’re still teaching this one in Kindergarten at CVC. One of my favorite Thanksgiving services in recent memory was when the Kindergarteners came up front to lead us in reciting it.

But as often happens, when I read it again today, something new stood out. There’s a footnote on verse three with an alternate reading:

“Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and not we ourselves.”

That little phrase—“not we ourselves”—sent my mind wandering, as it often does. It reminded me of another well-known text in our Reformed tradition: Q&A 1 of the Heidelberg Catechism, that profoundly comforting summary of our Christian hope:

Q: What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A: That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…

I remember as a kid, my parents made a deal with us: if we could memorize and recite Q&A 1 in full, we could earn a new Nintendo 64 game. A daunting task for an eight-year-old, but one Sunday night during church, I opened up the back of the gray hymnal and got to work. By the end of the sermon, I had it down and was ready to claim my reward. I had my heart set on NFL Blitz 2000.

I proudly recited the entire thing, but to my dismay, my parents reminded me that while I had done a great job, my siblings hadn’t finished yet. So the game would have to wait until they did their part. Classic middle child treatment. A bit of a bait and switch, if I’m honest. But in the end, we got the game—and more importantly, that truth started sinking in deep.

Years later, during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I picked up a new habit. We were all being reminded to wash our hands more thoroughly, and I read somewhere that reciting Q&A 1 was just about the right length for a good hand wash. So I started doing it:

Water on. Soap lathered. Scrubbing begins:

I am not my own,

but belong—

body and soul,

in life and in death—

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…

And on it would go, line by line, while I washed.

In a time that was disorienting and chaotic, this little ritual grounded me every single day.

I think it was about a year ago, at Lyla’s school program—must’ve been the spring one, since there wasn’t any Christmas music—when I saw something that gave me so much joy. The second graders stood up, and under the direction of Mrs. Westra, recited those same words. She asked them, “Second graders, what is your only comfort in life and in death?”

And they answered with confidence: “I am not my own…”

Later that night, I decided to test Lyla myself.

“Lyla Grace! What is your only comfort in life and in death?”

Sure enough, she wasn’t just mouthing the words on stage. She looked me in the eye and said, “I am not my own, but belong—body and soul—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…” The whole thing. She knew it.

The older I get, the more thankful I am for that truth.

“Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”