When the Soul Remembers: A Morning with Psalm 103
By Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Well now…

This morning started quiet. One of those slow roll-outs where the house is still wearing its robe of sleep. I woke before the alarm, before the cats stirred, before the sun even hinted at showing up. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, letting the stillness hold me for a moment.

There’s a verse that drifted into my mind—soft, steady, familiar. Like the voice of an old friend.

Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. —Psalm 103:1 KJV””

I’ve heard that verse my whole life. Quoted it, sung it, even preached it back when I wore the pastor’s hat. But this morning it hit different—landed deep. Not just a verse. A reminder. A call.

I got up slow, the way a man does when his body’s been through a few decades of life. My joints chimed in, reminding me they weren’t as young as they used to be. I shuffled down the hallway, past the old pictures and the bookshelf with my old seminary books and well-worn Bibles.

Out on the porch, coffee in hand, I watched the day break open. The sky started as a soft purple bruise on the horizon, then slowly turned to fire. The kind of sunrise that doesn’t rush. It just unfolds—like a hymn sung verse by verse.

And there it was again.

Bless the Lord, O my soul.

Not “bless Him when everything’s going right.” Not “bless Him when you feel like it.” Just—”bless Him.”

With all that is within me. Even the parts that ache. Even the parts that doubt. Even the tired, uncertain, worn-out parts of me.

You see, some mornings, praise is a natural outpouring—like water from a spring. Other days? It’s a choice. A whisper of faith in the middle of the mess. And maybe that’s the most honest kind of worship—the kind that chooses to say “He is still good” when nothing around you makes sense.

It’s easy to forget, isn’t it? To let the noise and weight of life drown out the song. But your soul remembers. It knows the truth your mind sometimes forgets—that His name is still holy. His goodness is still real. His mercy still reaches even you and me, here in the quiet of a brand-new day.

So I sat there, sipping my coffee, letting the words rise up again—not from duty, but from deep down where the real stuff lives.

Bless the Lord, O my soul…

And I did.

Maybe today you need to remember too. Maybe you need to pause, breathe deep, and let your soul do the talking. Let it praise through the pain. Let it lift its eyes. Let it bless His name—not because life is perfect, but because He is.

Let everything in you echo His goodness.

Every breath. Every beat.

Grace and Peace,
Jimmie

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