What if God Doesn't Answer? - Psalm 88
Imagine yourself locked in a small, dirty room. Rope shackles your
hands and feet to a chair. One light flickers, dangling just above your
head. Beads of sweat tickle your forehead from the heat of the bulb.
You can’t scratch the itch. Heavy breathing and threats pummel your
ears. Every voice is foreign and full of hate. Each word threatens
your life. “You’re about to wish you’d never been born.” Blows begin
punishing your face and body, splitting your skin. One of your ribs
splinters. Each breath stabs pain. No escape. You’re dead with a heartbeat. And you have no clue what you did wrong.
What name do you call to rescue you in that moment? What if He
doesn’t answer?
Psalm 88 never gives a solution to its questions. If anything it stirs
them up, pointing a finger at God, questioning His faithfulness and
love. It seems like blasphemy. Yet it stands in the Bible. God didn’t
snuff out Heman the Ezrahite before he finished writing it. Israel
sang it with a flute accompaniment as part of their worship. Put
yourself in their shoes. Join with them. Ask God and expect Him to
respond . . .
Oh, Yahweh, God of my rescue, I cry day and night to You.
Let my prayer reach Your face. Stretch Your ear to my cry.
For my soul is weary of problems. My life touches the underworld.
I’m counted with those who descend to the grave. I’ve become a warrior
with no strength.
Mixed with the dead, like a victim lying in a tomb, severed from Your
power and memory.
You’ve plunged me to the deepest dark pit of the netherworld, in shadows.
You’ve spent Your rage on me and held me under the crashing waves.
A cascade of flute pours complaints over you. Your own problems
tower higher. It feels like God Himself has His hand on your head,
forcing you under the water where the monsters of the deep tear and
rip your flesh. Why do you have to suffer? Where’s God? It’s His character to save, to rescue. Where is He? When will He finally answer?
Will He send anyone to help? Now it gets more desperate . . .
You’ve taken my friends away and made me disgusting to them in a prison
I can’t escape.
I waste away in humiliation even though I’ve called You, Yahweh, and
humbled myself before You.
Will you do miracles for the dead? Will ghosts stand and speak their
praise of You?!
The flutes play frenetically. Strings mix their anger with yours. Your
emotions ache. You feel the isolation, the shame. It doesn’t seem to
matter how much you pray. You can’t perform enough religious rituals
to make things better. Analyzing your situation with logic only makes
you angrier and more desperate for justice. You long for the intensity
to ratchet down just a bit. Maybe resolution will show up. But then it
kicks into a higher gear . . .
Will Your mercy matter in my tomb . . . Your kindness and faithfulness when I’m destroyed?
Will You show Your miracles in darkness, or your justice in the land where all is forgotten?
I’ve shouted to You for help, Yahweh, and at the break of day my prayer confronts You.
Yahweh, why do You reject my soul? Why do you hide Your face from me?
I don’t understand why I’ve been poor and ready to die since childhood,
carrying a dread of You.
Your anger floods me. Your terrors annihilate me.
They swirl around me like water every day. They surround me completely.
You’ve removed lover, friends, and anyone who knows me. Darkness.
Everything stops. No music. No words. You wait. You hear nothing.
Read the psalm again. Feel the anger, the rejection, the despair, the
loneliness poke and scratch your insides. This is as real as it gets. It’s
anything but comfortable.
Despite the lack of hope, Heman keeps coming back to God,
pointing his finger, accusing God with His own covenant. No other
god claims to be as just and faithful. No other god even claims to care
about humans. But Yahweh has. Heman won’t let Yahweh forget His
promises. He’s not going somewhere else to get his needs met. Even if
he ends up in total darkness, he’s waiting for God to save him.
“You promised, God!” “Where were you when their laughter shoved
and humiliated me in a corner?” “How could you let Him abuse me
like that?” “Why did my daughter have to feel their dirty hands grope
and probe her again and again?” “I was powerless.” “None of my
friends or acquaintances or loved ones could do anything to help.”
Heman’s pointing out that in those gut-wrenching moments, it’s
God who’s going to rescue, or nothing at all.
You’ve probably never experienced the kind of hardships that physically
tortured Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s, Brother Yun’s, or any martyr’s
mind and body. Then again, maybe you have. Whatever your situation,
you’ve felt the blows of life pummel your heart. You’ve wrestled
with doubt. Have you ever felt like giving up? Does God really care
when you suffer? When death’s at your door, are you still going to
cling to Yahweh? Will He save you? If you die with no relief from the
daily terrors, humiliation, and agony, will you still put your trust in
Him?
This isn’t a game. He’s listening and real. Ask Him your toughest
questions, even if they sound blasphemous. Pour out all your fury.
Expose your darkest secrets. Let the injustice you’ve suffered pound
on His chest. Tell Him how your father beat you. Whisper the name
of the one who stole your innocence. Empty the shame. Vent all your
rage. Let the tears flow like rivers. Sob and shake with the pain right
in His lap. He wants to know. He’s here. You’ll never break His love.
You can’t shock Him with your depravity. Even your cursing won’t
scare Him away.
The God who rescues can take it. Are you willing to expose your
heart to Him?
Follow-up questions
1. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to (or thought about) God?
(God already knows, so you’re safe to share it.)
2. How often do you wrestle with doubt about God being real or
loving you?
3. Which person in your life would never betray you? How do you
know?
© Peter Nevland 2014, posted from Exposing the Psalms with permission from Authentic Media
