Hello, I’m Daniel Westfall on the channel “Pray with Me”.

Psalm 88 is one of the darkest psalms. Most complaint psalms move forward from a statement of deep trouble to a place of hope and trust. Psalm 22, for example, begins, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” and moves toward the thought, “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord” (v. 27).  

But Psalm 88 moves in the opposite direction, starting with “Lord, you are the God who saves me” (v. 1), and ending on the despairing note,
    You have taken from me friend and neighbour–
      darkness is my closest friend (v. 18). 

My spiritual director, who experienced dark years with debilitating health problems, said that at one low point in her life, Psalm 88 was her greatest comfort. When her life was all darkness and no light, the words “darkness is my closest friend” gave her permission to remain quietly in that place, not seeking desperately for answers, not searching hopelessly for light, not complaining bitterly to God, just waiting quietly in darkness and pain. 

Author John Monbourquette captures some of this in his book, How to Befriend your Shadow (Darton Longman and Todd: Ottawa, 2001). He says many people spend their lives fighting the shadow side of their experience and treating it as the enemy. For some, the shadow is sinful temptations, evil fantasies, unholy urges. For those who want to appear strong and competent, the fearful shadow may be weakness and vulnerability. Monbourquette suggests that we not fight the shadow, but befriend it, recognizing it as part of who we are. We can listen to what it tells us without acting out every urge. Instead of avoiding and suppressing and denying the darkness,we can receive it and learn from it.  

Sometimes our Christian experience is like the disciples on the stormy lake, rowing endlessly through the night without reaching land. There is a spiritual gift for us in receiving this experience, in befriending the darkness as we row through our night, waiting and hoping for God’s deliverance.

Let’s pray. 

Our father, in his poem The Hound of Heaven, Frances Thompson paints you as a hound dog, tracking him as he escapes into pleasure, human friendship, and nature. In the end when you catch him, he lies naked and vulnerable in the dark, no longer able to run, fearful as he waits the stroke of your punishment. But unexpectedly, he encounters your love, and says of his darkness:
    Is my gloom after all
    Shade of his hand outstretched caressingly?  (lines 179-180). 

Ah Lord, that is what we long for. To know we live in the shadow of your loving hand. To know that when  we experience your absence, when we are tired of running, when darkness is all about us, our gloom is the shadow of your hand, stretched out above us in love. 

We bring to you the darkness we feel today.
– We row at night through a COVID pandemic, not knowing how or when we will reach land.
– We enter another long dark winter, where health care and economics are stressed.
– Hurricanes batter the Carribean, an earthquake shakes Turkey, a divisive election disrupts the United States, a typhoon wreaks destruction on the Philippines. Everywhere the world descends into darkness. 

As Paul said, “Our warfare is not against flesh and blood, but . . . against the powers of this dark world.” O father, as we feel ourselves sinking, we with the Psalm 88, “Darkness is our closest friend”, for we know that even darkness will reveal your presence to us. With Frances Thompson, we believe that our gloom is shade of your hand, outstretched caressingly. 

Amen.

I’m Daniel on the channel “Pray with Me”.

Hello, I’m Daniel Westfall on the channel “Pray with Me”.

Psalm 87 is a fascinating but enigmatic poem, about the City of Jerusalem. At this point in the Psalms, Jerusalem is frequently mentioned as a city destroyed by the Babylonians, mourned by the Israelites, mocked by the nations, and ignored by God. 

But in Psalm 87, there is no hint of the destruction. Instead, Jerusalem is the city God loves and favors, almost like a summer cottage on a granite rock, caressed by gentle lake breezes, protected by a forest of evergreen trees. a place of glory and sunshine and life, God’s home on earth. 

This psalm is also amazing for the place it assigns to the nations of the earth. In the poem, God does a brief roll call of nations that have been Israel’s enemies: cruel world-dominating empires like Egypt and Babylon; smaller and closer enemies like Philistia and Tyre; and even the distant Ethiopia, .

God does not threaten these nations with judgement and destruction. Instead he calls them to become citizens of his favorite city, Jerusalem. He says, “They were born here”–that is, they have the same rights of citizenship as native-born Israelites. In our world today, we see nations and rulers making laws that exclude foreigners and undocumented aliens and people from terrorist countries. But in this psalm, King God sends a worldwide invitation for nations to become members of his city and citizens of his kingdom.

Let’s pray. 

Our father, Psalm 87 pictures you, the creator of all, welcoming the nations into your kingdom. Nations that have warred against you, who have killed your people, taken captives, and destroyed your city and your temple.

In many psalms, your people ask you to take vengeance on their enemies, but in this psalm you show a heart of reconciliation and peace to every nation. Here you begin to undo the work of the tower of Babel–the confusion of tongues and the scattering of nations. 

O God, we pray today that you will work among our modern nations.
– Heal the hermit kingdom, North Korea.
– Bring your rule to a restored yet corrupt Russia.
– Bring the citizenship of your city to war-shattered Syria.
– Bring peace to the violent nation of Israel.
– Bring hope and land to the Palestinians.
– Bring justice to all refugees of war and violence.
– Bring truth to the United States.
– Bring wisdom to Canada as our politicians descend again into pettiness and foolishness.

O God, make of the nations one kingdom, ruled by your son, speaking the language of peace, paying allegiance to your rule and your fatherhood. 

And may we share the poet’s song, “All my fountains are in you” (v. 7). Yes, the fountains of life are not in the things we own, or the nations we conquer, or the temples we build; they are found in the city of God, in the place where you dwell on earth.  

Amen.

I’m Daniel on the channel “Pray with Me”.

Hello, I’m Daniel Westfall on the channel “Pray with Me”.

In the first four verses of Psalm 86, the poet references himself twelve times. His prayer focuses on himself and his needs. God is almost an outsider in this psalm, a distant being who might be persuaded to help. Listen to the prayer. 
     Hear me, Lord, and answer me,
        for I am poor and needy (v. 1).
    You are my God, have mercy on me,
        for I call to you all day long (v. 3). 

By verse 8, the poet’s focus has done a U-turn. In three verses at the centre of the poem, every line speaks of God, and the poet does not appear even once. Listen to his praise:
    Among the gods, there is none like you, Lord;
      No deeds can compare with yours.
    All the nations you have made
      will come and worship before you, Lord;
      they will bring glory to your name.
    For you are great and do marvellous deeds;
       you alone are God (vv. 8-11)..  

I like the way this psalm shows the shifting focus of a person who is seeking God. We often get fixated on ourselves–our problems, our poverty, our needs, and how God could help if only he would listen and respond. Then somehow we find grace and wisdom to let go of ourselves, if only briefly, to focus on the great God we serve. 

Let’s pray. 

Our father, like the poet we tell you our complaints. We have heard great things about how amazing it is to serve you–but today we are stuck in the mud again. The scriptures are dry as dust. Our prayers are meandering and unfocused . Our lives are anxious and distracted. We fear the isolation of a long COVID winter. We worry about worldwide failures in politics and economics, about civil unrest and disappearing freedoms.

Our father, as we grow older, we have not discovered the joys we hoped for, only new difficulties and new sorrows. As Fosdick describes it, “…our Edens are behind us with flaming angels at the gate. We have had friends and lost them and something has gone from our hearts that does not return. . . ; we have sinned, and though forgiven, the scars are still upon us; we have been weathered by the rains and floods and winds” (Fosdick, Harry Emerson. The Meaning of Faith. Good Press: Ebook, 2019. Original work published 1917). 

But with the poet, we turn our focus to you. You alone are the God of creation, who hung our little planet in space, and set it spinning night and day, circling through the seasons. You alone are the God of salvation, who unexpectedly became a pilgrim in our world, and set up housekeeping among us, and died like a criminal. But you rose again and you offer us the gift of resurrection life. You alone are the God who gives us breath, who  hears the prayers we breathe, who breathes your Holy Spirit into us, who sends us news of your kingdom and your coming. 

Oh God, we need fresh news of you. Do not forget us. Send us your compassion and grace, be slow to anger and full of love and mercy toward us. With the poet we pray,
  Give us a sign of your goodness,
      so our enemies will see it and be put to shame,
      for you, Lord, have helped us and comforted us (v. 17). 

Amen.

I’m Daniel on the channel “Pray with Me”.