Psalm 88
O God, I need you every day that I exist and every night that I pass through. Never turn your face from me, O Lord, for my life is a continuous plea for help. My life is one long series of conflicts and defeats, and they only increase as I near its end.
My ultimate destiny is a hole in the ground, but even now I am as good as dead. Without strength, forsaken, shunned by those around me, I feel as if I were separated forever from You. I am assailed by afflictions, attacked by obsessions, and all but forgotten by God and human beings. And yet I continue to cry out to you. Even while the assaults of this life and the fear of death surround me and close in on me, I look to you for some ray of hope. Good Lord, where are you? Is there nothing within me worth saving?
- Psalm 88 (as paraphrased in the book Psalms Now by Leslie Brandt)
One of the darkest hymns found in the scriptures could be Psalm 88.
No other Psalm takes us this deep into the darkened depths of the heart, revealing harsh grief, doubts, anxiety, and depression. There’s also a noticeable contrast between other Psalms of Lament, as there are no touches of praise, hope, or thanksgiving found within the song, which we can usually count on giving us a glimpse of joy for the future. So it begs the question:
Why was this included in the book of Psalms, the songbook of our faith? And what insight might it bring to our lives in the modern world?
I believe one lesson to be learned is this: Knowing the importance of knowing and expressing our vulnerability. Xavier Le Pinchon, a geologist (stick with me), forged the study and field of plate tectonics, which is the study of exactly how our planet’s plates dance and move with each other. He actually connected the dots between the fragility that is found in geology, and a similar fragility we can find in humanity. He states “Fragility is the essence of men and women, and it is at the heart of humanity… a capacity to accommodate fragility is a fundamental element of vital, evolving systems, whether geological or human… Earthquakes happen when weaknesses cannot be expressed.”
I believe this is incredibly applicable to our spirituality! I know I can paralyze myself spiritually when I don’t bring my pain, vulnerabilities, fears, and doubts to the light of the Father. In a full, true relationship with Jesus, we need to be able to bring our fears and doubts and pain to Him, completely unfiltered.
Earthquakes happen when we keep our vulnerabilities buried beneath the surface, where they can build tension until they shake our lives to pieces.
Let this bring you peace - Jesus knew how important it was to sit with and know the vulnerable, more than anybody else who has ever lived. A pattern and pillar of his time with us was inviting those with questions into a closer relationship with him, not dismissing them and sending them away to deal with it on their own. How Jesus responded to the man in the tree, Zacchaeus, is an invitation to us as well – I know you have questions, come down from that tree.
I would implore you today, or this week, or this season, to be VULNERABLE with the Lord.
It may even take a practice where once a week, you say a true prayer of desperation, one in which you exclusively walk with the Lord into the darker rooms in your heart. Show
Him all of what you’re carrying – He already knows it, but there is magnificent peace to be found in knowing you’re not allowing yourself to carry it all alone. No matter how dark and painful your heart may feel, find peace in the truth that Jesus still wants to step in, call it His home, and work alongside you to find deep, real peace.
Another tool is SILENCE.
God frequently speaks in moments where we quiet our mind and our heart and just LISTEN. Be open to the powerful work that can transform us in spaces of silence. Sometimes, all I “hear” is an echo of joy and peace, one that washes over me and eases my worries and pains in a way that can only be described as HOLY.
I’ll leave you with this beautiful prayer by Henri Nouwen -
Speak gently in my silence.
When the loud outer noises of my surroundings
and the loud inner noises of my fears
Keep pulling me way from you,
Help me to trust that you are still there
Even when I am unable to hear you.
Give me ears to listen to your small, soft voice saying:
“Come to me, you who are overburdened, and I will give you rest…
For I am gentle and humble of heart”
Let that loving voice be my guide.
Amen.
Ethan Rounds