TO THE CHOIRMASTER: ACCORDING TO JEDUTHUN. A PSALM OF ASAPH. I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” Then my spirit made a diligent search: “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples. You with your arm redeemed your people, the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
– Psalm 77
(Excerpt from the sermon “Questioning Under the Clouds: Has His Steadfast Love Ceased Forever?“)
Psalm 77 begins with “I cry aloud to God,” and then Asaph repeats himself for emphasis. He says again, “aloud to God.” The psalm starts this way in order to frame the tone of this text. He is in pain, and he is not silent. However, he is not just talking, complaining, or crying; he is crying out in prayer. What we have here is a painful prayer that the psalmist is offering out loud to God.
Look at the other references to prayer that follow in the first two verses:
- “. . . he will hear me”(v. 1b)
- “In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord” (v. 2a)
- “. . . in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying (v. 2b) (a reference to a prayer posture)
Clearly the psalmist is reaching out to God in the midst of his pain. While we do not know what the source of his pain is, we can see that he is struggling (more on this in a moment). What I want you to see from the outset relates to what I said earlier about lament being a prayer. It takes faith to pray in the midst of pain. To lament, even with its messy struggle and tough questions, is an act of faith as one opens his or her heart to God.
So I want to establish from the outset that prayerful lament, with all of its tension and challenges, is better than silence. There is still hope in lament, even if it does not resolve quickly. Many people are afraid of lament, but I would tell you that there is something far worse: silent despair. Here is something that is very counterintuitive: lament and despair are complete opposites. Despair is the ultimate manifestation of unbelief and a denial that God exists, while lament is one of the deepest and most costly demonstrations of belief in God.[1]
If you have ever worked with a couple who is having marital problems, you know this to be true. One of the sure signs of a broken and hopeless marriage is a refusal to even speak to one another. When you hear they’ve reached that point, you know things are really, really bad. Strange as it is, I have found myself rejoicing when a couple says, “Well, we fought off and on all week.” If the previous weeks have been marked by an absence of talking, talking, even if it is messy, is a good place to start.
I think the same thing is true for our relationship with God. I have no doubt there are several of you today who have stopped talking to God. You have stopped praying. And I hope today you will be encouraged and motivated to start again. Or maybe you have a friend who is really struggling, and there are some things that they pray that make you wince. Before you jump in too quickly, I just encourage you that at least they are praying. It’s a start. Prayers of lament take faith because the pain or the tough questions are not always solved quickly.
Notice the psalmist’s description of the emotional struggle within himself in verses 2-4: “ . . . my soul refuses to be comforted. When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah. You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak” (Psalm 77:2-4). He is praying, but it is not bringing comfort or encouragement or rest or resolution. His prayers are not “working.” And yet he is praying.
Take note that lament does lead us to resolution, but it is not always a resolution that is quick or timely. Grief is not tame, and lament cannot be used like a linear equation. Lament is where you go while in pain with the faith-filled belief that one day God will bring resolution to all of this. Lament is where you live or (better) how you live when your life doesn’t end like a Hallmark movie.
But there’s more here than just prayer. The psalmist is dealing with very difficult questions. In verses 5-9 he makes a turn away from just focusing on his pain to considering the central question: Why isn’t God doing more? He begins to “consider the days of old,” “to remember my song in the night,” “to meditate in my heart,” and “to make a diligent search.” He is thinking, and it is painful because it leads to difficult questions.
The psalmist lists six pointed, rhetorical questions: (1) Will the Lord spurn forever?, (2) {Will he} never again be favorable?, (3) Has his steadfast love forever ceased?, (4) Are his promises at an end for all time?, (5) Has God forgotten to be gracious?, and (6) Has he, in anger, shut up his compassion? Notice that he is questioning the favor, the love, the promise, the faithfulness, and the compassion of God.
Does the psalmist really believe God is not loving and is unfaithful? I do not think so, and the rest of the psalm will bear this out. But he does something important here. Talking this way is an honest recognition that pain and suffering often create difficult emotions which we know are not based upon truth. But they feel true nonetheless. Pain creates many kinds of tensions, and these honest rhetorical questions are a vital part of lament. In fact, honest, humble, pain-filled questions offered in prayer to God are part of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. After all, Jesus himself said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
James Montgomery Boice (1938-2000), who pastored the Tenth Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia for thirty-two years, said this about these kinds of questions:
“. . . It is better to ask them than not to ask them, because asking them sharpens the issue and pushes us toward the right, positive response. Alexander Maclaren insists that asking such questions is good. He writes, ‘Doubts are better put into plain speech than lying diffused and darkening, like poisonous mists, in {the} heart. A thought, be it good or bad, can be dealt with when it is made articulate.’”[2]
Boice speaks as only a pastor who has dealt with people’s pain for decades can speak. He knows God is able to handle our difficult questions. As a father I know this to be true. When my children question my actions from hurting and humble hearts, I’m inclined to listen, and it only makes me love them more. In many respects I’m glad and affirmed when they really want to understand.
Praying through pain means we deal honestly with the strong emotions we feel and the difficult questions we face. So, is there anything that you’ve stopped talking to God about? Any questions you’ve not asked? Have you asked those questions with the wrong heart? Is there someone near you who is lamenting and who you need to help a little differently in light of this text?
Lament is humbly praying through the pain. It leads us to worship while also being worship.
[1] Michael Card, A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament, (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2005), 55.
[2] James Montgomery Boice, Psalms 42–106: An Expositional Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2005), 640–641.
