Psalm 31:9-16
Preaching
A Journey Through the Psalms: Reflections for Worried Hearts and Troubled Times
Preaching the Psalms Cycles A, B, C
At first, this psalm conjures up the words of an old acquaintance who frequently would call on the phone to say that "I'm not paranoid, they really are out to get me!" It was always offered with tongue-in-cheek. This response, of course, is smarmy in the extreme and offers the benefit of not having to engage the text. But then in the rereading, the protective layers of cynicism fall away and visions begin to emerge.
As the words sink in, images of genocide in Darfur, of rancid hospitals in Bagdad, and rotting homes in New Orleans begin to grow clear. The oft-avoided, always-dreaded suffering of the other comes into focus as knuckles of compassion knock at hardened hearts.
Who has known someone at the end of their rope? Who has sniffed the odor of despair and desperation? And who, sensing that the bucket of options is empty, finally turns and gives it all over to God?
This psalm is a portrait of what one might call a Job profile. It just doesn't seem like it can get much worse, and somehow in the thick of it all one has the odd sense that the cosmic casino is laying odds on the outcome. This is a life washed over with grief and misery; a smashed and broken remnant shrinking from "terror all around."
Yet trust is placed in God because God, it seems, is in charge.
The notion that the "times are in God's hands" is not one exclusive to this setting. Indeed all times are in the hands of God.
Prosperity and abundance, tragedy and despair, joy and sorrow; it's all in the grip of God's sway.
The funny thing is that when we are at the end of our rope, we somehow understand this. This truth is expressed by the old saw that says there are no atheists in foxholes. As the delusion of control is stripped away and lives spiral downward, a turn to one more powerful seems inevitable.
But when the good times roll, things are different. When bellies are full and beds are warm it's easy to live into the delusion that we're in charge of it all, that we are somehow responsible for our good fortune. Grateful hearts somehow dissipate in the face of super abundance.
If only we could ride on waves of consistency and trust in both good times and bad. If only we could look from windows of prosperity to see the pain of others and unlock our hardened hearts.
As the words sink in, images of genocide in Darfur, of rancid hospitals in Bagdad, and rotting homes in New Orleans begin to grow clear. The oft-avoided, always-dreaded suffering of the other comes into focus as knuckles of compassion knock at hardened hearts.
Who has known someone at the end of their rope? Who has sniffed the odor of despair and desperation? And who, sensing that the bucket of options is empty, finally turns and gives it all over to God?
This psalm is a portrait of what one might call a Job profile. It just doesn't seem like it can get much worse, and somehow in the thick of it all one has the odd sense that the cosmic casino is laying odds on the outcome. This is a life washed over with grief and misery; a smashed and broken remnant shrinking from "terror all around."
Yet trust is placed in God because God, it seems, is in charge.
The notion that the "times are in God's hands" is not one exclusive to this setting. Indeed all times are in the hands of God.
Prosperity and abundance, tragedy and despair, joy and sorrow; it's all in the grip of God's sway.
The funny thing is that when we are at the end of our rope, we somehow understand this. This truth is expressed by the old saw that says there are no atheists in foxholes. As the delusion of control is stripped away and lives spiral downward, a turn to one more powerful seems inevitable.
But when the good times roll, things are different. When bellies are full and beds are warm it's easy to live into the delusion that we're in charge of it all, that we are somehow responsible for our good fortune. Grateful hearts somehow dissipate in the face of super abundance.
If only we could ride on waves of consistency and trust in both good times and bad. If only we could look from windows of prosperity to see the pain of others and unlock our hardened hearts.
