Ep199_Psalm090.  Dwelling Place.

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

The title of Psalm 90 reads, “A prayer of Moses, the man of God.” It begins,
    Lord, you have been our dwelling place
        in all generations.
    Before the mountains were born
        or you brought forth the earth and the world,
        even from everlasting to everlasting you are God (vv. 1-2). 

I have always loved Psalm 90. Its most compelling feature is the mood it creates, a mood of melancholy at the brevity and bleakness of life, a mood of yearning for God’s favor and blessing, a mood of quiet acceptance that our short life can be a good life in God’s care. 

The psalm contrasts God’s eternity with the brevity of our life on earth. It does so gently, not with stark factual language or high-tech theological language, but with expressions of relationship and hope. “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations” (v. 1). The earth is our brief home, but God is our dwelling place forever.

Continuing, the poet says to God,
    You turn us back to dust,
          saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”
    For a thousand years in your sight
          are like a day that has just gone by,
          or like a watch in the night (vv. 3-4).

This is a gentle picture, but powerful and realistic. God made us from dust, and one day he will return us to dust. For us, a watch in the night is a long time, especially when we lie sleepless in bed; but a thousand years is a mere moment to God. When our lives end, when our short watch in the darkness is over, God will sweep us gently into the long sleep of death. Like the grass we grow for a day, then the evening of our life is dry and withered, and we pass away with the sunset. 

Compare these beautiful and gentle images with philosopher Thomas Hobbes’ description of life outside a structured society. He says such a life is “nasty, brutish, and short” (Leviathan, i. xiii. 9). I prefer Moses’ hopeful and humane view. 

Let’s pray. 

Our father, thousands or perhaps billions of years ago you caused the mountains to be born.  In the long reaches of time, wind and rain and ice and sand erode them back to dust. We too are dust, breathing for a moment the breath you give, then releasing it forever. 

As the poet says,
  The length of our days is seventy years,
        or eighty if we have the strength,
    yet their span is but trouble and sorrow
        for they quickly pass and we fly away (v. 10).
    So teach us to number our days,
        that we may gain a heart of wisdom (v. 12). 

Yes, Lord. In our brief years we may gain power or influence or pleasure, but they quickly pass. Help us to learn wisdom, to see our lives from your point of view. We journey briefly through trouble and sorrow, until our breath is lost in the air and our body returns to the ground. Help us with Moses to find our dwelling place in you, our shelter in your care, and our home in your eternity. 

With the poet we pray,
    Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted is,
      for as many years as we have seen trouble (v. 15).
    May the favor of the Lord our god rest on us;
      and establish the work of our hands for us–
      yes, establish the work of our hands (v. 17).

Amen.

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

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

Psalm 88 ended on the note, “Darkness is my closest friend.” Today, let’s consider Psalm 89, which also ends in an unresolved state, saying,
    How long, Lord? Will you hide yourself forever? (v. 46)
    Where is your former great love,
      which in your faithfulness you swore to David? (v. 49). 

The poet’s problem is that God promised David his heirs would rule forever on the throne of Israel. But at the time the poet was writing, the kingship of Israel and the Davidic line had been demolished in the brutal march of history. God’s love and faithfulness disappeared. His unconditional promise to David has failed.  

Let’s see how the poet came to this painful conclusion. He doesn’t start the psalm in despair, but with a song of praise:
    I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever;
      I will make your faithfulness known through all generations.
    I will declare that your love stands firm forever (vv. 1-2a). 

The poet praises the forever love of God, and then continues with God’s forever promise to David. God said:
        I have sworn to David my servant,
    “I will establish your line forever
        and make your throne firm through all generations” (vv. 3a-4). 
Certainly, no sign here of disappearing love and faithfulness!

The poet goes on to recount how God stilled the primal waters of chaos, creating the world and everything in it. God continued to be the strong king. ruling over earth, sitting on his throne of righteousness and justice, ruling with love and faithfulness (vv. 9-18). The poet loves this grand picture of God on the throne. This is how history is supposed to work out.

And then God made his good creation even better by choosing David as king of Israel, and promising to love David and support his kingship by:
-crushing his enemies (v. 22-23)
-expanding his territory (v. 25)
-and making David the greatest king in all the earth (v. 27)

And God went even further. promising that David’s heirs would be kings of Israel as long as the sun and moon endure (vv. 36-37). 

And to cap off the enduring promise, God added a clause about what he would do if David’s sons failed to worship God and keep his laws. God said he would punish the evildoers, but he would ensure David’s kingly line continued (vv. 30-35). This completes the poet’s joy. God made an unbreakable and forever promise to David. What’s left to say? What could possibly go wrong?

Then, unexpectedly, out of the blue, the poet’s glad recital turns to bitter recrimination. He turns from looking at God and God’s promise to looking at current events. And what he sees discredits all God’s promises, and all his faithfulness and love. He says to God,
    But you have rejected, you have spurned,
        you have been angry with your anointed one,
    You have renounced the covenant with your servant,
          you have defiled his crown in the dust (vv. 38-39).
      You have. . .cast his throne to the ground (v. 44).  
      You have exalted his foes;
          you have made all his enemies rejoice (v. 42).

So much for the poet’s joy. Now he asserts that God has been unfaithful. The poet says that the disappearance of the Davidic line was no accident of history, nor a coincidence of evolution, nor a failure of military strength. It is God who guides the events of history, it is God made the unbreakable promise to David. So it’s his fault that promise lies broken, that David’s throne is cast down and his line has ended. The orderly, reliable, loving world God made has turned to darkness and chaos. What is God doing? Where has he disappeared to?

Let’s pray. 

Our father, like the poet, we live by a clear promise of the everlasting rule of our king, who is Christ, an heir of David. But when we look at two thousand years of history or even a week of current events, we do not see his kingdom. We see earthly powers rise and fall, we see justice and mercy fail. We feel the absence of Christ and the chaos of the world. With the poet, we pray, 
   Lord, where is your great love?
      Where is your promise that Christ will reign on earth?

Amen.

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

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”.