deepsoil

In the past, before taking this class, I was very much accustomed to thinking of the psalms as journal entries. After all, I write prayers in my journal as often as I write about when I’m bummed out about something. I still think that this is a valid perception, however, I feel as though I missed much of what the psalms are about with this view, for they go far beyond journal entries.

See, because of this view, I was more apt to skip the “bad days” unless I was really having a bad day, and even then, I still liked the parts that talked about turn-around in the situation, about God answering, and that kind of thing. I never processed what to do when God doesn’t answer, or seems not to. What happens when you feel as though you’ve been walking in his will and yet he seems far away? Can God move?

Obviously in the psalms, the answer to that question is “yes.” I knew that God was not static, but this concept of God moving didn’t go well with my New Testament spin on “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Yet, the psalmist accuses God of just that.

Before going on to discuss the new interpretation of God moving that I have gotten as a result of studying the psalms, I need to say that over all what has struck me about the psalms is the nature of the relationship that God wants to have with his people, and the nature of the grace that is the foundation of the relationship that he wants to have with his people. See, the fascinating relational aspect of the psalms had never really struck me before. I certainly never used them to pray like the psalmist prayed. I used them in the worship sense—citing the parts that had been turned into worship songs that I clapped my hands to on Sunday mornings. But being forced to take a closer look at the laments in particular jarred my view of what our relationship with God, and our conversation with God, can really look like. I think many Christians miss out on a dimension of relationship that God wants to have with them by being afraid to question. But he’d rather us bring our questions to him then let them ferment in our brain and in our heart until they turn into something really potent that could cause a rift in our relationship with him.

Back then to this concept of a God that moves. I don’t know why this struck me as odd to think of God moving when we see him moving in other places in the Bible. For example, in the wilderness when God was taking the children of Israel to the promised land, he picked up and moved at somewhat regular intervals, and if they didn’t follow the cloud or the pillar, then they’d end up stranded in the desert without God because God was headed for a promised land. We see this idea also in the Song of Solomon. Twice the lover leaves the beloved (see chapter 3 and chapter 5:2ff). She goes and looks for him both times. The second time in particular, he had knocked and asked her to open, but she didn’t move right away, and then when she did move, she discovered that he’d gone and she had to go look for him.

There are two things that I see out of this idea of God moving or not answering. The first is that there are times when he moves and says, “Come follow;” and if we don’t then we are left behind. The other one is the idea that we often think that God has moved or abandoned us when he doesn’t answer us right away. The fact that he doesn’t answer immediately doesn’t mean that either we have done something wrong and moved away or that he has physically moved away, it just means that he’s not answering right now.

Just because he is not answering, however, doesn’t mean that we should stop talking to him. We find this in psalm 88, undoubtedly the most depressing psalm in the Psalter. Walter Brueggemann pointed out that this psalm points to a very real part of our lives, and that the psalms address every aspect of our lives. “Here, more than anywhere else,” he says, “faith faces life as it is. …We observe that this psalm is not one of mute depression. It is still speech. It is still addressed. In the bottom of the pit, Israel knows that it still has to do with Yahweh.”[1] I noted in my text study on this psalm that this concept is the key to understanding and using this psalm, and, indeed, all of the lament psalms today. Here in Psalm 88, and even in Psalm 89, there is no resolution, no “Hollywood” happy ending that we can ride off into the sunset with. But then again, our lives aren’t like that either.

There will always be unanswered questions while we live on earth. We can never see the entirety of God’s plan or grasp the ways in which he moves and doesn’t move in our world. We cannot forever be coming up with pat answers for people’s problems. Sometimes, there aren’t any answers, and it would be more damaging to try to invent some neat answer to a problem that doesn’t have one, then it is to admit that we don’t know the answer. The key is not giving up on addressing those questions and problems to God. The danger in our lives, then, comes not from questioning him, but, rather, from ceasing to communicate with him.

The amazing thing that followed this realization for me was that over and over again in the psalms we find God allowing questions, allowing us to come before his throne and converse with him. I don’t know why this was so amazing to me. I suppose that it seemed that the ability to come before God was more a New Testament thing. It was only after the cross that everyone could come before God. In the Old Testament then, it was only the “special” people that got to talk to God. In some ways, this was true. The people had to go via the priest to confess sins and make restitution for their wrongs. We see key Old Testament people such as Moses and the prophets praying on behalf of the people. We see the prophets communing with God and getting messages for the whole nation. Because of all of that though, I wasn’t accustomed to thinking of the psalms as directly impacting my relationship with God in the same way that a New Testament book could I suppose. I see now the error of my ways. All along, or at least after starting seminary, I’ve been very convinced that the Old Testament has much to say to us, but I guess I still somehow relegated it to something of a second class status.

One concept of this relationship that is shown in the psalms is the idea of grace. Somehow, in the context of the temple cult and the sacrifices and all that went with that, it doesn’t seem as though grace is as huge a part. Yet, while the word itself may not be mentioned as often in the Old as it is in the New Testament, the concept is clearly there and in action.

Both Psalms 143 and 144 deal with the nature of grace. Grace allows us to come before the throne of God with confidence,[2] even in the Old Testament. It seemed in light of Hebrews 10:19 that it was the blood of Jesus that paid the way, and indeed, this is clearly true. But the blood that he shed was an act of divine grace—a grace that was in action before he went to the cross, for indeed it was because of his desire to extend this unmerited favor to us that he went to the cross.

We cannot, however, take the nature of this God lightly. His nature should never cease to render us speechless as we gaze on his holiness and marvel that he has chosen us, loves us, and gives us the ability to bring our requests before him. Who are we after all—this messed up, broken race? Yet, he loves us. This is amazing as the psalmist realized when he asked, “What are human beings that you regard them, or mortals that you think of them? They are like a breath; their days are like a passing shadow.”[3] In light of God’s eternity, our lives are nothing. They are short and insignificant shadows when compared to his light that goes on forever.

We are not to take this amazing favor lightly, however, for the psalmist in psalm 143 realizes that no one living is righteous before God.[4] Humans can do nothing to deserve to stand before God, to deserve to be heard or helped by God. This favor that we have is completely unmerited on our part, and must forever be held in careful awe of the privileged position in which we stand with this holy God.

This realization of this comparison between God’s holiness and our un-holiness, God’s majesty and our baseness, God’s eternity and our temporality however, cannot prevent us from coming to him for he has made the way for us to be able to do so. This splendid, eternal God, clothed in majesty and glory, has given us permission to ask him to move heaven and earth to come to our aid!

In light of this, I want to shout! I want to praise and proclaim the wonders of this great God that wants to be in relationship with me! Before when I was used to reciting or meditating on mainly the praise or celebration psalms, I never caught the depth of celebration that the psalmist did, for the praise psalms are in the context of all of the psalms—which are an apt reflection of life. Without the other psalms, our praise is far emptier and far hollower than it is if we look at the complex texture of life and embrace all of it as parts life that can all be taken before God. We need not only talk to him when we’re happy or when we feel like praising.

It is in this light then, of realizing the amazing place that we stand with our God, that we can turn and burst forth into psalms of praise, that we can literally come before his presence with singing, knowing that he is God.[5] The concept of knowing that he is God is not nearly as rich if we have not first looked at all of these other ideas that I have just been discussing. Knowing who God is in all of his righteousness and splendor, and then knowing that “we are his”[6] is cause for rejoicing! Psalm 100 describes a complete body worship, inside and out, and indeed, this is the only possible response to the realization that this God has chosen me! I must therefore run to his throne room gladly singing his praises, bow at his feet and give thanks for his steadfast love that endures forever! And like the psalmist in Psalm 100, I too desire that the whole world should join me in this glad abandon of worship to the one who created us and cares so much about us that he goes to great lengths—to the point of moving heaven and earth and giving his own life—to come to our aid and ensure that we are able to continue to have a relationship with him.

These thoughts then pierce my soul and I am frozen, overwhelmed with the knowledge of this God, and motionless in my desire to be still and know that he is God.[7] This arises partly from a desire to let all of these grand thoughts sink in, and then I discover that “such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.”[8] For I can know on one level that this same holy God of power and might, clothed in majesty and splendor, the Creator of all has searched me and known me, but on an entirely different level, I don’t get it. Why would he want to know me? Because he loves you, the pat answer would be. But why would he love me? The idea that he loves because it is in his nature to love still blows me away when I think that this God loves me, died for me, went that far to ensure that I’d be able to be in relationship with Him. This knowledge is too great for me, and thus I am rendered speechless, able only to sit in the stillness and be completely absorbed in the idea that this God has chosen me—that I am his beloved.

As I muse on these thoughts, I find myself understanding why the psalmist rejoices at his word as one who finds great treasure.[9] For indeed, in the face of such awesome love, how cannot each and every word of this God—my God—not be considered to be the greatest treasure that there is? His word is my heritage, and thus it is the joy of my heart.[10] When I realize that my inheritance is in his word, knowing who he is, I then have the desire to seek him with all of me, and hide his words in my heart so that I might not stray from his commands or sin against him.[11]

Everything in the psalms can be understood in light of understanding who God is. It isn’t about a form, a religion, a practice—it’s all about who he is, and who we are in relationship to him. He is God. He is holy. Everything good and perfect comes from him[12] because of his unfailing love for us. As Psalm 30 highlights, when God has done something for us, we must praise him. However, in light of the idea that all of the psalms come from a knowledge of God, if we truly know who God is, then when he acts, we can do nothing else but praise him. Brueggemann says, “Because of the new life given by God, silence is impossible. New life requires the doxology, the end of sullenness, depression, numbness, despair… The purpose of this psalm [Psalm 30] appears to be to keep that memory alive, so that the occasion of transformation is kept alive.”[13] If we forget what God has done, and what He has saved us from and brought us out of, then we run the risk of murmuring or complaining or merely being discouraged when some new difficulty reaches us. And, if, when we’ve been rescued, we don’t tell others about it, then we miss opportunities to encourage them when perhaps they feel as though God has ceased to act in our world.

One further implication strikes me as to why we must praise, and praise corporately when God acts. If we do not, then we are in effect denying who God is and also denying his action in our world. It is not an active denial in the sense of verbalizing a denial, but it is a passive denial that arises from a lack of action, and, indeed, this is nearly as destructive. If I never praise him for what he does, then I don’t really understand who he is. And if I don’t praise corporately when God acts, then I deny other people the opportunity to see who he is based upon how he has acted in my life.

If I have truly sat in the stillness long enough to know that he is God, then when he moves on my behalf, my response is praise. When he doesn’t move on my behalf, he has given me the right to bring my questions and problems to him, but my response is still praise because I know who he is. If I truly know who he is, I cannot complain, though I can question; I can lament, but I cannot despair. This knowledge of my God reveals that he wants me to talk to him reveals that he wants me to communicate regardless of what is happening or what I am thinking. The wonderful knowledge of this God—my God—and this grace that he extends to me must be my foundation every time I approach him regardless of what is happening in my life.

[2] See Hebrews 10:19

[3] Psalm 144:3-4

[4] Psalm 143:2

[5] Psalm 100:1 and 3.

[6] Psalm 100:3

[7] Psalm 46:10

[8] Psalm 139:6

[9] Psalm 119:162

[10] Psalm 119:111

[11] Psalm 119:10-11

[12] James 1:17

[13] Brueggemann, The Message of the Psalms, pp. 127-8.