SING OF THIRST

A Sermon by Bill McDonald from Psalm 42

June 24, 2007

 

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 land of Jordan and of Hermon,

       from Mount Mizar.

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 Jordan River in the Hermon Mountains near Mt. Mizar and he is surrounded by non-believers, scoffers.  Scholars suggest that he may have been in exile or perhaps was a prisoner of war.  What he longs for, yearns for, is to be able to go once more to Jerusalem, to the temple, the only place where one is certain to find the face of God.  But it’s impossible, he can’t go; he is prevented from going and so his soul thirsts for God, like a deer who wanders the parched wastelands bawling over dry-up streambeds.  I prefer the old Revised Standard Version of this psalm simply for its rendering of the third word, which it translates as “hart.”  “As a hart longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul for thee, O God.”  But I guess very few people refer to a deer as a hart anymore.  I prefer that translation because when spoken it offers a double meaning.  We hear the word “hart (h-a-r-t)” but we also hear the word “heart (h-e-a-r-t).”   “As a hart longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul for thee, O God.”  I know how the psalmist feels, don’t you?

 

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 Jordan River—“Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and billows have gone over me.”  He feels overwhelmed, drowned by grief, but immediately he remembers, “By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.”  When your soul-safe feels as if it has been robbed, when your heart is so empty that your pulse echoes off its walls, when you sit on your bed in despair, take a few minutes to look back over your personal history with God, recall for a brief moment God’s steadfast love, and have a little conversation with yourself.  For you already know the answers to your questions.

 

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.”