SING OF THIRST
A Sermon by Bill McDonald from Psalm 42
Psalm 42
1 As
a deer longs for flowing streams,
so
my soul longs for you, O God.
2 My soul thirsts
for God,
for
the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the
face of God?
3 My tears have been
my food
day
and night,
while
people say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”
4 These things I
remember,
as
I pour out my soul:
how
I went with the throng,
and
led them in procession to the house of God,
with
glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving,
a
multitude keeping festival.
5 Why are you cast
down, O my soul,
and
why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall
again praise him,
my
help 6and my God.
My soul is cast down within
me;
therefore
I remember you
from
the
from
7 Deep calls to deep
at
the thunder of your cataracts;
all
your waves and your billows
have
gone over me.
8 By
day the LORD commands his steadfast love,
and
at night his song is with me,
a
prayer to the God of my life.
9 I say to God, my
rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I walk about mournfully
because
the enemy oppresses me?”
10 As
with a deadly wound in my body,
my
adversaries taunt me,
while
they say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”
11 Why are you cast
down, O my soul,
and
why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall
again praise him,
my help and
my God.
Where is your God?
“Go out to the back porch and fetch me the broom,” the mother said to the little boy.
“But, Momma, it’s dark out there and there are spiders and who knows what else on that old porch.”
“Boy, you had better go get me that broom.”
“But, Momma, I’m afraid.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid,” reassured his mom, “God is out there just as surely as He is everywhere. Go on now.”
The little boy opened the creaky back door and peered out
into the blackness of the screened-in porch.
He gulped once and then said, “God, if you are out there, would you hand
me that broom?”
Where is your God?
That is a conversation that our intellects often have with our
hearts. The mind says God is real, but
the heart doubts. The heart says that
God is always present, but it just doesn’t make sense to the mind. And back and forth we go. The psalmist also seems to be arguing with
himself in this psalm, complaining about his current troubles and then
reprimanding himself for his weak faith.
“Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you disquieted within me?”
This is the only psalm that gives us some indication of where it was
written. The writer seems to be
somewhere up near the headwaters of the
Late one restless night I sat on my bed in the dorm at
college. My roommate was gone, the fraternity floor was empty and comfortless. I felt light years away from my home
congregation which had nurtured my faith so well, 450 miles away from my mother
who had always been the rock of my faith.
After three years in higher education, my simple childhood faith had
taken a pounding from my classes in philosophy and psychology. And it all came to a head this one dark night
of the soul, as I sat there in despair, broken doctrines rattling around in my
head, and me crying out aloud, “Where are you, God? Where are you?”
Is that a question that plagues everyone…or only us church
types? Is it only those of sensitive
heart and heightened spiritual awareness that feel
this thirsting for God? Or is it in
every mortal, no matter how secular, how stoic, how steeled that person has
become? I believe it is universal. I believe that God created within us humans a
soul that resonates to God and to God alone.
Oh, you can look for a substitute.
You can pursue happiness with all your misguided energies. You can throw yourself into life or throw yourself
away, but it won’t stop the longing, it won’t fill the void, it won’t quench
the thirst. Your soul is tuned to God’s
frequency; nothing else will cause it to reverberate in joy and to harmonize
existence. “As a hart longs for flowing streams, so my
soul longs for you, O God.”
So what do we do in the late watches of the night, in the
times of darkness in our souls? How do
we answer our own question, “Where are you, God?” We answer by reminding ourselves of what we
already know.
The little girl came in from her first day at school. Her mother greeted her warmly and asked,
“What did you learn today, Honey?” With
furrowed brow the little girl answered, “Obviously not enough; I have to go
back tomorrow!” Well, like education, faith
is also a dynamic process, a learning experience that can literally continue
right up till casket-closing time. But the
most essential element in faith we know already. God is here—God is with us. God’s love is steadfast, eternal, more present than air.
We learned that early on, but we have to remind ourselves
frequently. We learned it first, but
when we are imprisoned in the mountains of heartache, surrounded by scoffers,
crying the tears of tribulation, we forget.
For a while, we forget.
It is helpful for us in those times to do what the psalmist
did—to have a little conversation with ourselves and to play back some good ol’ memories. The
psalmist projects his memories against the walls of the encircling, imprisoning
mountains. The pilgrimages from his home
village to the holy city, the procession of the crowds with banners and
branches and songs, the festivals of joy recalling the mighty works of God—he
remembers these and then chides his soul for its restlessness. Do you remember the Easters of your youth—the
golds and whites, the feelings of victory and
triumph, the excitement that stirred the air, the joyous and certain
declaration that “Christ has risen!”? Do
you remember the vesper services at church camp? Do you remember the grand hymns of the church
and that powerful moment when communion was right there in your hands? Then the psalmist sends his memory and his
grief rushing down the rapids of the mountain streams that feed the
Dressed for Sunday School, the boy
walked down the sidewalk toward the church.
The neighborhood scoffer sat on his porch and shouted at the boy, “So
you believe in God, do you? I’ll give
you a nickel if you can show me just one place where God is!” The boy responded, “I don’t mean to be
disrespectful, sir, but I’ll give you a quarter if you can show me one place
where God isn’t.”
“Why are you cast
down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my
help and my God.”