Struggling through Psalms
Psalm 16:7-9 (verse 53 of 145)
The wise counsel God gives when I'm awake is confirmed by my sleeping heart.
Day and night I'll stick with God; I've got a good thing going and I'm not letting go.
I'm happy from the inside out, and from the outside in, I'm firmly formed.
I’m trudging, not marching, through the “Do not be afraid” references in Psalms. For instance, I’ve been working on this post for days. The truth is I’m finding it difficult to say anything about some of these verses where David proclaims his deep confidence in God’s protection and steadfastness.
Here’s the NIV version of verse 8 above: I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure.
But of course, we are shaken—every day we are shaken by the series of disasters and outrages we are witnessing.
In his preface to Psalms in The Message, Eugene Peterson wrote that his desire to put the psalms in contemporary language came from his lifetime of work as a pastor and the mental barriers his parishioners had when it came to prayer. When meeting God in prayer, they didn’t want to mess up or speak poorly , so the consequence was they never got around to praying.
Peterson wanted his congregation to understand prayer as elemental—and prayers can be spoken (aloud or in our head) not only in everyday, unrehearsed language, but from the most desperate longings of our hearts. He wrote, “It is the means by which . . . we get everything in our lives out in the open before God.”
A few years ago a friend encouraged me to write a psalm of lament when I was going through a period of deep grief. She also wanted me to understand that we can bring not only praise and thanks to God, but our deepest sorrows as well as our brokenness. So this week, when I could find no response inside myself to David’s declaration he will not be shaken, I wrote a psalm of lamentation, following closely behind Psalm 17, also written by David, but a psalm in which he pours out his frustration and fear and disdain for the people who hurt him. This feels deeply honest to me. In my version, I’ve left some of David’s phrases and borrowed some from faith heroes of mine, like Kate Bowler. Writing it was a reminder that when I am shaken to my core, I can still put everything in my life out in the open before God.
After Psalm 17
Listen, GOD, while I pour out my heart
I can’t take it anymore.
I can’t bear the constant heartache
Of a world that has completely lost your way.
I can’t bear to hear the story
Of a university student taken by ICE.
Or witness images
Of children ravaged by war.
I can’t bear one more politician
Pretend to believe the lies he speaks.
GOD, come down NOW!
In this apocalyptic moment, we need you.
We can’t wait another moment
For you to turn our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh.
I call to you, GOD, because I’m sure of an answer.
So—answer me, please! I’m begging.
Rain down your grace on the missing and exploited.
Rain it down, too, on those in pickups with streaming flags.
Rain it down, LORD, until our hearts are broken open.
Don’t abandon us, Lord, though we have abandoned you.
Remember your promise to never to leave us,
To never forget about us.
Come down now, GOD. I am desperate.
It’s hard for me to think you love the ones I don’t,
That you long to be in relationship
Not just with me, but those I would call my enemies.
So, transform my heart, GOD.
Displace its brimming fear,
And make a space instead
For mystery—for your radical subversive love.
And while I’ve got your attention, GOD,
Please draw near the student who sits in jail.
Find a way for medical staff and aid workers to reach the mothers and children.
And rescue me, GOD, be the strength I don’t have
to resist despair and certainty.
