Perhaps the most unfamiliar thing I’m going to have to get used to now that I’m a Pennsylvanian is the concept of burning trash. I never really thought about trash men and the weekly garbage pick-up system before. It just wasn’t a thing that crossed my mind that often, if at all. But now that I’m living in a location that doesn’t have access to such a benefit, I am obligated to live out whatever latent pyromaniacal tendencies might exist in my subconscious.
It is an understatement to say that the psalmist was familiar with adversity. And, like most great songwriters, the best lines often come from the darkest places. The majority of composers and lyricists will tell you that their most influential work was done while enduring the worst sorts of trauma in other areas of their life.
Imagine, if you will, that you had a sibling, a brother or sister — a twin, let’s say. Perhaps you don’t have to imagine too hard and this reality is all too real. But you and your sibling get along usually well, save for the occasional scuffle or two. One day, your mother calls you both in from rough-housing outside, coaxing you with ice cream.