Psalm 42 (CEB):
Just like a deer that craves streams of water, my whole being craves you, God. My entire being thirsts for God, for the living God. When will I come and see God’s face? My tears have been my food both day and night, as people constantly questioned me, “Where’s your God now?”
But I remember these things as I bare my soul: how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode, to God’s own house, with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs— a huge crowd celebrating the festival!
Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God! Because I will again give God thanks, my saving presence and my God.
My whole being is depressed. That’s why I remember you from the land of Jordan and Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep called to deep at the noise of your waterfalls; all your massive waves surged over me.
By day the Lord commands his faithful love, by night her song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life. I will say to God, my solid rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I have to walk around sad, oppressed by enemies?” With my bones crushed, my foes make fun of me, constantly questioning me: “Where’s your God now?”
Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God! Because I will again give God thanks, my saving presence and my God.
This passage is one of the lectionary readings this week. The lectionary is a type of syllabus for preaching and Bible study that has its roots, like all things Christian, in ancient Judaism. Tradition dates the idea of reading specific passages of scripture at particular events such as Passover to Moses.
Although not all Christian churches use the same Lectionary, they are all designed to take a congregation through a thorough biblical journey over a few years. For every Sunday and holiday in the Christian year, the lectionary provides a suggested reading from each of the first and second testaments, the psalms, and a gospel. I don’t always follow the Lectionary, but I often reference it for inspiration. Some weeks I receive what can only be acknowledged as gifts from God. This was one of those weeks.
This Psalm speaks deeply to me because I have recently found it exceedingly difficult to believe the world—and the United States in particular—is so cold, careless, and discompassionate. So this week we’re going to let this Psalm speak to us. We’re going to deconstruct this Psalm a bit by reading a line, then reading a little commentary about it, then sitting in silent contemplation for a few moments before we move on. Take your time. There’s no need to rush through this. Read the Psalm, read the commentary, then wait for God.
Let’s begin.
Just like a deer that craves streams of water, my whole being craves you, God. My entire being thirsts for God, for the living God.
Thoughts: I love this idea of my entire being yearning to sense God’s presence. This segment is a sensory prayer begging God to be undeniably with us. It’s a quantum prayer too, a plea to experience the buzz of God energy in every molecule of our person. For me, though, the most compelling aspect of this stanza is that it’s a craving for God. A craving. I like that analogy because I get cravings all the time, especially for very specific foods. It’s a weird trait I’ve had my entire life that I probably inherited from my Mom.
I hadn’t thought to stop lately and think about how much I genuinely crave God’s presence in my life. I’m constantly feeling at war with the world lately, a battle of logic and reason against superstitions, prejudices, and lies, and it’s exhausting. My being is disappointed in humanity, and in that exhausted frustration I yearn for your touch, Soul of my soul.
[be still and aware]
The Psalm continues:
When will I come and see God’s face? My tears have been my food both day and night, as people constantly questioned me, “Where’s your God now?”
Thoughts: Where’s your God now? How many times have tyrants asked that of the souls they oppress? How often have people enslaved wondered when God will show her face? I know we have all existed too many times on tears, wailing ourselves to sleep, wondering if we’ve been deserted by God. Lately, I’ve been wondering if God has abandoned the world. Honestly, even when I was young, the main reason I was anti-religious was because of the state of the world. I didn’t buy—and still don’t—the idea that God will one day magically transform the planet from a garbage heap to Utopia. Frankly, our world doesn’t have enough time for God’s pace to be that glacial.
As I wonder where God has gone, I realize God hasn’t gone anywhere, I have. This is no profound realization, of course, our Psalmist was talking about the same problem 3000 years ago. It’s not the intrinsic value of the discovery that’s important, though. It’s awareness of the discovery, almost like the triggering of some ancient cosmic muscle memory. Oh yeah! There you are! Right where you’ve always been! God is with us. Where we are, right now. Especially if we’re suffering.
[be still and aware]
We have not been deserted. Our Psalmist urges us to remember that God will never desert us:
But I remember these things as I bare my soul: how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode, to God’s own house, with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs— a huge crowd celebrating the festival! Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God! Because I will again give God thanks, my saving presence and my God. My whole being is depressed. That’s why I remember you from the land of Jordan and Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
Thoughts: When’s the last time you bared your soul to God? It feels stupendous. Do it. Do it as soon as you’re in a space where you feel comfortable wailing away for some time, letting the tears flow, getting all messy about it. Scream. Shout in anguish. Bare your soul to God and release your stuff. All of it. Don’t think about the stuff or what it means or what it is. Don’t spend any time with the stuff. Recognize it and give it all to God. Completely.
Now, remember how you made your way to God’s dwelling place, within you, right there wherever you’re bawling your eyes out and wishing you hadn’t worn that expensive shirt that is now a hanky, or wishing you had a shirt. Sing or shout some thanksgivings for God’s presence. Remember and find inspiration in our collective human history! We’re explorers, inventors, survivors made in the image of the greatest explorer of them all, God.
Why am I so depressed? Throughout history, God has prevailed.
I trust today will not be any different.
[be still and aware]
This next sentence is my favorite: Deep called to deep at the noise of your waterfalls; all your massive waves surged over me.
Discussion points: Deep called to deep. From the depths of the universe, God calls to the depths of our souls, reminding us we are one. Our lives are not independent points of materiality along a linear timeline. All lives are intertwined one with another within the depths of God’s very multi-dimensional being. None of us—no thing—exists in a vacuum. All of us live in the very being of God. This makes desertion as absurd as if the body suddenly rejected all neutrons. We might survive as something, but we would no longer be human. So it is with God’s presence.
Deep called to deep!
My God calls to me
from the center of the universe
to the center of my universe.
Deep calls to deep!
[be still and aware]
The Psalm concludes by bookending the response to people belittling us for believing in God with a prayer reminding us that hope in God overcomes depression, anxiety, and every other ill attendant to global civilization, whether thousands of years ago or today:
By day the Lord commands his faithful love, by night her song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life. I will say to God, my solid rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I have to walk around sad, oppressed by enemies?” With my bones crushed, my foes make fun of me, constantly questioning me: “Where’s your God now?”
Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God!
Because I will again give God thanks, my saving presence and my God.
[silence]
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