deep distress
“Feeling quite weak spiritually this morning; the weight of preaching heavy. I would appreciate your prayer friend.”
I sent this text to a number of friends this past Sunday morning. The feelings I described there were with me the moment I awoke sometime before 4am, and were honestly quite scary, I think for a number of reasons, not least of which was the reality that in a few hours I would need to stand before our church family and declare God’s Word, and lead our services. How could I do that in the state I was in? And what would lift the heaviness, and bring strength?
I pondered all this as I went about my morning routine: brushing my teeth, throwing water on my face, making my smoothie, grabbing my Bible and my lenten devotional, heading to the corner chair in the fireplace room. But I was kind of floating through the routine, weighed down by a sense of dread. (yes, pastors and preachers have bad Sundays too)
As I settled into the chair, I was still having difficulty focusing, so I listened to a couple of worship songs in the hopes my spirits would lift. Eventually, I turned to that devotional and my Bible, and here is what I read…
Psalm 130
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Yahweh.
Lord, hear my voice!
I must confess, I actually chuckled out loud.
You see, this is the reason I wanted you to know what happened to me this last Sunday morning. Not to feel bad for me because I had a bad Sunday morning — we all have those, and I’m nothing special. Rather, I’m sharing this with you because I wanted you to know how amazing and compassionate my God is.
For all kinds of reasons, he could have left me in that funk. Instead, for all kinds of reasons I’m utterly unaware of, he chose, after only one hour, to speak directly to me. To give me exactly the words I needed to hear and to express in the difficult state I found myself in that morning, immediately upon waking.
I was in the depths, and he reminded me to cry out to him.
I felt alone, and he filled my mouth with the request, “Lord, hear my voice!” And to continue, “Look at me down here, would you? I need your help.”
And then I told him all about what was going on in my heart, and my thoughts, and how I was feeling, and that I had no idea why, and it all really concerned me, and I was afraid, and feeling a bit desperate, and I didn’t think I’d be much help to my church family if we couldn’t get some things straightened out, and that made me even more afraid.
And I felt the nudge, “Keep reading…”
And so I did.
Psalm 130
1 Out of the depths I cry to you, O Yahweh.
2 Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive
to the voice of my supplications!
3 If you, O Yahweh, should mark iniquities,
Lord, who could stand?
4 But there is forgiveness with you,
so that you may be revered.
5 I wait for Yahweh, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for Yahweh
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.
7 O Israel, hope in Yahweh!
For with Yahweh there is steadfast love,
and with him is great power to redeem.
8 It is he who will redeem Israel
from all its iniquities.
And I heard from God.
“There is forgiveness with me…hope in my word…wait on me…watch for me…hope in me…my love for you is steadfast…with me is great power to redeem…and I will, I will redeem you.”
Huh.
But it wasn’t just me and God in the room Sunday morning. I had my lenten devotional which contained a remarkable, powerful, hope-saturated meditation upon Psalm 130 by N.T. Wright, which I’ve attached in its entirety below.
And reader, what Wright unpacked did not dispel all my distress, but by God’s grace, and his Holy Spirit, so much of the burden became bearable because I knew — I was reminded — that the Father is with me, and I felt the closeness and the presence of Jesus as I went to my knees in extended prayer.
A presence that remains,
even while some of the distress still lingers.
Maybe you’re feeling some level of distress today.
Or you know of someone who is.
I encourage you to read or share Psalm 130, and Wright’s meditations.
And I’m praying, dear reader, that you too would know the closeness and presence of Jesus.
Grace and Peace to you,
Matthew
The deep distress we sense as we read this Psalm has, paradoxically perhaps, given great hope to millions down the years. No matter how deep we have sunk, no matter what sorrows or tragedies we may encounter, the Psalms have been there before us. Not only do they encourage us to believe that we have not, after all, fallen off the map. They give us words so that, when our own words fail to do justice to our misery, they will do instead.
The Psalm doesn’t hide. There’s no point pretending, putting a brave face on it before God. (By the way, if you’re reading this Psalm today in a bright, cheerful mood, pray it on behalf of the many for whom today is dark and sorrowful.) ‘Out of the depths!’ That’s how it is, for all of us some of the time, for some of us most of the time. Let’s tell it like it is.
Worse: the poet has a sense that somehow it’s his own fault. When disaster strikes and it’s someone else’s fault, we can gain some relief by blaming them, perhaps hoping for justice. But when it’s my own fault, even in part, the blame turns back on me. That is the road to the deepest depths of all, where we are not only miserable but feel guilty. Depression often takes the form, as a medical friend once said to me, of putting ourselves on trial and acting as judge, jury and chief prosecution witness all rolled into one. We then lock ourselves in the dungeon of our own misery and throw away the key.
It is out of that sense of helpless and hopeless sadness that the poem cries out: Lord, hear my voice! Listen! If you keep a record of wrongdoing, we’d all be in deep trouble; but what you offer is forgiveness! That’s why we worship you! The news of forgiveness, of a free pardon, is the best news of all. The lock is broken; the prison door stands open; we are free to go.
It hasn’t happened yet. The Psalm ends with redemption, forgiveness, still in the future. Yet the strong affirmation of God’s forgiving kindness in verse 4 is the anchor which then, despite all, holds us upright. Then it’s a matter of hope and patience: ‘waiting’, three times repeated in verses 5 and 6, is where it’s at. ‘Lord, give me patience,’ says the T-shirt, ‘and I want it right now!’ But what matters here is the waiting, the settled concentration on God’s word which alone assures us that there is hope because God is gracious.
As we journey through Lent, all sorts of things may have come up to test us, to make us despair. There is some way still to go, but we know who it is we’re following. By the end of the Psalm, the poet is strong enough to commend to the whole nation the path of patience he himself is treading. ‘O Israel, hope in the Lord; with the Lord there is steadfast love; he has great power to redeem.’ He doesn’t say what form the rescue will take. He only knows who it is that will provide it.
Today’s Prayer
Gracious Lord, when we are in the depths, come to us with your mercy and assure us of your power to rescue. And give us the patience to wait for you to do it.
