Reading Psalm 88

O LORD, God of my salvation;

I cry out day and night before you.

Let my prayer come before you;

incline your ear to my cry!

For my soul is full of troubles,

and my life draws near to Sheol.

I am counted among those who go down to the pit;

I am a man who has no strength,

like one set loose among the dead,

like the slain that lie in the grave,

like those whom you remember no more,

for they are cut off from your hand.

You have put me in the depths of the pit,

in the regions dark and deep.

Your wrath lies heavy upon me,

and you overwhelm me with all your waves.

You have caused my companions to shun me;

you have made me a horror to them.

I am shut in so that I cannot escape;

my eye grows dim through sorrow.

Every day I call upon you, O LORD;

I spread out my hands to you.

Do you work wonders for the dead?

Do the departed rise up to praise you?

Is your steadfast love declared in the grave,

or your faithfulness in Abaddon?

Are your wonders known in the darkness,

or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?

But I, O LORD, cry to you;

in the morning my prayer comes before you.

O LORD, why do you cast my soul away?

Why do you hide your face from me?

Afflicted and close to death from my youth up,

I suffer your terrors; I am helpless.

Your wrath has swept over me;

your dreadful assaults destroy me.

They surround me like a flood all day long; they close in on me together.

You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me;

my companions have become darkness.

This is a Maskil of Heman the Ezrahite. This man was, I think, very wise, for he is mentioned in 1 Kings 4:31, where it talks about Solomon being wiser than this list of men including Heman. (I don't think he would have been mentioned had he been something of an ignoramus.)

So, this wise man wrote Psalm 88, which many consider to be a hopeless Psalm. All his wisdom availed him nothing when the rubber hit the road, eh? ...I don't really see it that way; indeed, it does end on a negative note, and there is no blatant hope or joy to be seen. It is a rather dark lament. Some believe that Heman was afflicted with leprosy or some other disease that cut him off from his people. The Psalm does not say specifically what was being suffered.

However, there are a few things that hit me whenever I read this Psalm.

The writer recognizes who God is. He is aware that God is the God of salvation. He knows that God hears prayer. He admits that God is sovereign, even over evil; like Job, the writer recognizes that God is not surprised by events, but rather is moving throughout them.

He turns to God in his grief. This is truly amazing to me. This whole Psalm is a prayer to God. Even in his distress, the writer is seeking God's answer, seeking God's relief. His hope is found in God. He is waiting for God's response. He reminds God that he would not be able to tell of His majesty if he were dead. He reminds the LORD that he is crying out to Him. He asks questions, though he is grieved. He continually turns to God in his distress. He calls upon him "every day". His hope rests with God and God alone.

Do we do that? In our grief and struggle, do we remember who God is, and turn to Him? Do we express our grief to God, or cry out to Him night and day while we are going through adverse circumstances? I admit that sometimes the problem or the trial seems so big that I cannot see anything else. My vision is clouded by the trial I am undergoing. That's usually because I've picked up the trial in my hands and pressed it against my eyeballs. "I can't see you, God!" I cry, and if I had listening ears I would hear God's answer: "Hold the trial in perspective." It seems a whole lot smaller when I do that. Strange.

I think the Psalmist, though he did not finish his Psalm with comfort, was nonetheless comforted as he poured out his heart before the God of his salvation. I think he reminded himself that even if all his companions had shunned him, he had one Friend left - the one to whom he was revealing all his troubles.

The reason I think that is because I have done the same sort of thing. I have prayed to God in anguish, and finished in anguish, but there has always been stubborn joy and resolute faith being smothered but not quenched beneath the darkness. Whenever I go through something terrible, I still know that God is with me, that He has never left me, and never will. I know that He is always listening, and I know that He is working in the terrible events. Even if I sit in ashes and scrape my sores with a piece of broken pottery, I know that God is God, and I know that ultimately, if I lose everything and gain only Christ, that is more than enough.

So Psalm 88 is not a hopeless Psalm to me. It is one of the Psalms that brings me the most hope, because it reminds me that other believers experience the same anguish I do - and ultimately it points to Christ, Who suffered on my behalf and endured the punishment I ought to have endured. He knows my sufferings; He has shared in them. My hope is in Him.

And I am comforted.

What, Music?

I have lately been pondering the lack of a certain type of song in what we sing at church. There are plenty of great, truth-filled songs, whether hymns or newer stuff. Most of them deal with the character of God, or with our (personal - more often "I, me" instead of "we, us") relationship with Him; but I have found sometimes - especially as I often choose what music the congregation will sing on Sunday - that there is very little music to be had when it comes to several themes.

For instance, recently the theme for the music was "a holy fear" - and how many songs carry that theme? Most don't deal with fear, but with love, joy, peace, rest, etc. Then there is the fact that a lot of the songs are more relational than practical - they deal in who we are, or who God is, rather than what we ought to do (what God has commanded us to do) in light of our state. The great truths in Scripture were always followed by practical instruction.

So, I don't know what I'm rambling about. Sadly a lot of church songs today constitute nothing more than fluffy Jesus-is-my-friend platitudes. I am thankful for the old hymns and the new music written by men and women devoted to truth and doctrine.

The big disclaimer here is that I have not listened to all the music that is out there; I could just be missing the piles and piles of music that deals with what I consider to be missing.

So, a question for you: do you find that church music is missing something? If so, what would that be? What topics would you find useful/uplifting in congregational music?

Sixty-Two Words

I detest what passes as literacy today.

I detest text-speak, and alterations of good sound words into some mutilated, putrescent carcass of slang formerly known as English. My corneas twitch every time I see the unholy desecration of grammar or sentence structure. (This paragraph is a digression from my initial thought, but it was unavoidable.)

Back on point: one thing I detest regarding literacy is the apparent contentment with "short and sweet"; that writers have to cater to the boredom of mainstream, lazy ignoramuses who cannot stir themselves long enough to read anything longer than half a page. (Do I sound slightly bitter?)

That being said, I find truth in the idea that saying things as simply as possible is better than being wordy and excessive, though to be perfectly honest I believe that if we put our minds to it, the lengthy poetry-like prose of, say, the seventeenth-century writers would be simple and easy to understand. It all depends on what we're used to.

I was struck today by the value of saying things as simplistically as possible. Sometimes brevity has more effect. Such was the case with Elijah on Mt. Carmel, facing the false prophets and idolatry of Israel. He watched and waited with patience (and a bit of mockery) while the prophets of Baal cried out for hours, worked themselves up into a frenzy, and cut and mutilated themselves before finally falling into a trance - all to no purpose. They were not answered.

Then, having given the false prophets ample time to humiliate themselves and prove their lies, Elijah did two things: he dug a trench around the altar that had been built, and poured twelve jars of water over the sacrifice. Everything was drenched.

That being done, Elijah spoke.

And at the time of the offering of the oblation, Elijah the prophet came near and said, “O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your word. Answer me, O LORD, answer me, that this people may know that you, O LORD, are God, and that you have turned their hearts back.” (1 Kings 18:36-37)

A mere sixty-two words. Not a full morning of crying out, not a frenzy, no self-mutilation; sixty-two words are all Elijah spoke, and God heard him. One verse later we see God's response. Fire rained down from heaven and consumed everything: the sacrifice, the stones, the surrounding dirt; the flames licked up every last drop of water.

Stand rebuked, Linda. I guess brevity is good after all.

...I still detest text-speak.