It feels somewhat inauthentic writing this, because I am in the middle of a long and deep trial of body, mind, and spirit like I've never known before (even if I felt it was appropriate to share details here, I wouldn't know exactly what to write), and am in no position to lecture or lord over anyone else with any supposedly superior spiritual insight or wisdom of my own. All I know is that despite the numbness and battle with sleep and other problems I am facing right now (with the help of others), I have to carry on ministry of some sort, and I find myself able to write a little today. Neither my next breath nor my next day, month, year, nor decade is guaranteed, and I have to continue bearing fruit for the kingdom of Christ. God has smashed one of His vessels for a time, now let the waters of Zion stream out of it and at least give some life to others if possible.
I also still believe that there is power in the Word of God, and that things I have seen in it and learned from it could prove helpful to my brothers and sisters in Christ facing their own trials (or who certainly will some day), especially those in my home church of Christ the King Presbyterian in Norman, Oklahoma, whom I miss grievously during this time away. This Psalm asks questions that are shocking to a person until he faces truly difficult things, and then the questions seem all too obvious and familiar. As Rev. Mike Biggs preaches through the book of Exodus, Christ the King members especially will appreciate the direction this Psalm turns eventually. May the Spirit use my weak efforts unfolding some of it here to bless anyone who might happen to read it. Perhaps it will become part of a larger project one day (although I have said that of many things before...)
Psalm 77
For the choir director; according to Jeduthun. A Psalm of Asaph.
"My voice rises to God, and I will cry aloud;
My voice rises to God, and He will hear me.
In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord;
In the night my hand was stretched out without weariness;
My soul refused to be comforted.
When I remember God, then I am disturbed;
When I sigh, then my spirit grows faint. Selah.
You have held my eyelids open;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I have considered the days of old,
The years of long ago.
I will remember my song in the night;
I will meditate with my heart,
And my spirit ponders:
Will the Lord reject forever?
And will He never be favorable again?
Has His lovingkindness ceased forever?
Has His promise come to an end forever?
Has God forgotten to be gracious,
Or has He in anger withdrawn His compassion? Selah.
Then I said, 'It is my grief,
That the right hand of the Most High has changed.'
I shall remember the deeds of the Lord;
Surely I will remember Your wonders of old.
I will meditate on all Your work
And muse on Your deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy;
What god is great like our God?
You are the God who works wonders;
You have made known Your strength among the peoples.
You have by Your power redeemed Your people,
The sons of Jacob and Joseph. Selah.
The waters saw You, O God;
The waters saw You, they were in anguish;
The deeps also trembled.
The clouds poured out water;
The skies gave forth a sound;
Your arrows flashed here and there.
The sound of Your thunder was in the whirlwind;
The lightnings lit up the world;
The earth trembled and shook.
Your way was in the sea
And Your paths in the mighty waters,
And Your footprints may not be known.
You led Your people like a flock
By the hand of Moses and Aaron."
Asaph hides none of his thoughts or feelings. Like in Psalm 73 he fully exposes his darkest thoughts and feelings about God that crop up when he looks around at his circumstances. He begins this Psalm with loud lament and persistent prayer: "My voice rises to God, I will cry aloud!" "In the night my hand was stretched out without weariness." But his prayer and lament simply bounce, it seems, off his Ancient Near Eastern mud-and-tile ceiling: "My soul refused to be comforted."
"Well," thinks Asaph, "God is not granting me the earthly physical and/or emotional comforts I need to feel as whole as I could be, but I remember what I wrote in Psalm 73, and how I learned from going into the sanctuary of God's house that He will make all things right one day, and that actually for now, He is enough--yes, that great line I wrote!: 'God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever!'" God. God is the gospel, ultimately. Through Christ's cross-work, we have peace and fellowship with the Almighty; what more could we ask?? To be discontent with God as our sufficient portion is idolatry, isn't it?
"When I remember God, then I am disturbed."
"I am disturbed." "I moan." "I was troubled." Pick your translation. That which has been most precious to Asaph now seems turned against him, or distant from him--with God the two are equivalent. The Aaronic blessing is that God would "lift up His countenance" on His people. His wrath is expressed at times as "hiding His face." Asaph sighs and his spirit grows faint. He can't sleep ("You have held my eyelids open.") He's lost for words ("I am so troubled I cannot speak.") His mind cannot make sense of his experience, so his words fail--such meager containers cannot contain his complex thoughts, concerns, questions.
Asaph the musician runs again to his music. Perhaps that will enliven his prayer and give it new hope: "I will remember my song in the night..." but all that comes out are the questions in his heart. Maybe he couldn't speak before because he was afraid to say these words, but he has nothing else to say at this point:
"Will the Lord reject forever? And will He never be favorable again? Has His lovingkindness ceased forever? Has His promise come to an end forever? Has God forgotten to be gracious, or has He in anger withdrawn His compassion? Selah." Asaph asks his questions of God here, stopping just short of actually accusing God of breaking His covenant promises. He is disturbed when he remembers God, because the dominant thoughts about God in his heart are, in effect: "Has God reneged on His promise to David, gone back on His word of blessing given to Israel through Levitical priests, walked Himself backward through the animal pieces constituting the cutting of His covenant of promise with Abraham?"
Verse 10 is apparently difficult to translate, but to me the idea seems to be something like this: "It is grievous to me what God has been doing lately."
Asaph's circumstances weigh his heart down. His prayers bounce off the ceiling. Music doesn't help. Even trying to simply trust in and rest in God Himself doesn't help because Asaph knows God is actually behind--in some ultimate sense--all His troubles (although God's personal relationships to good and to disaster are shaped differently, as every good gift comes from above, from the Father of lights in whom there is no darkness at all). There is no comfort in the present, let alone a sense of hope yet for the future. God hides His face. So Asaph goes the only other possible direction...
"I shall remember the deeds of the Lord; surely I will remember Your wonders of old. I will meditate on all Your work, and muse on Your deeds." There is no comfort in the present, and the idea of "God" Himself is too abstract and distant for Asaph at this time. So he goes to the past--the past works of the Lord, the past self-revelation of the Lord to His people in Word and especially in deed. That's concrete. It's recorded in Scripture. At Asaph's time, it was likely also passed down to him through strong oral traditions in the family and in temple worship.
Where is this God? What is He like? What are His works like, which reveal who He is? "Your way, O God, is holy; what god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders..." Ok, but it's still a little abstract, what wonders? What "redemption" of the sons of Jacob and Joseph is in view?
"The waters saw You, O God; the waters saw You, they were in anguish..."
Oh, we see where this is going now...
The waters, which are associated with the godless Gentile nations, and with darkness and chaos and trouble, tremble at the gaze of the Holy One of Israel, and ultimately part so that God could lead forth His people like a flock, out of bondage (out of Egypt, obviously) "by the hand of Moses and Aaron."
Yahweh's path is in the mighty waters, because that is where He demonstrates His power best. His footprints may not be known; false gods cannot copy His movements. The waters are the means of His deliverance of His people and His judgment of His and their enemies. The Exodus is the quintessential paradigm of redemption given in the Scriptures. Asaph remembers it poetically, and stops there. He does not respond, in this Psalm, with relief and worship (as in most Psalms where the writer is renewed in faith and hope by the end). Perhaps this remembrance was enough for him to not fall all the way into despair, and that was all the help he received at the time, until later. Perhaps he fell asleep in meditation on the Exodus and decided to never add more to this particular Psalm. Whatever the case was, in the Holy Spirit's inspiration and leadership, the Psalm ends there.
The lesson is that when God seems abstract and distant, meditate on His past works--grand historical works like the Exodus, or various works in our individual lives (think, gratitude journal titles like "What God has done for me.") But on this side of the cross, we can't forget that the Second and Greater Exodus (Lk. 9:31) has already taken place, as well. Sin, Death, Hell, and Satan have been trampled by the blood of Christ, and the bodily resurrection of Jesus has brought His flock out of bondage to sin and into the freedom of an estate of Grace and Righteousness, with the attendant hope of glory. And who hopes for what he already sees? (Rm. 8:24) So if all that such meditation does is protect from utter despair for now, thank God for that. Amen.
