In My Covid Trial - Psalm 116
When I was at the worst part of covid last year, I could barely keep awake and when I was awake, I had no mental stamina to read or concentrate on anything. I couldn't listen to a narrative, or I'd get lost. My mind felt numb and consumed with the pain going on in seemingly every part of my body. So I went to BibleGateway.com and started to listen to Psalms. I have been memorizing Psalm 119, so I listen to it routinely. I've made my own voice recording but I hadn't a year ago so I was still using the online Bible Gateway version, in the ESV. Because I wanted to focus on Psalm 119, and I often was tossing or turning for a few minutes beforehand, I would back it up to a few chapters earlier. Sometimes I'd start at 113, or 115. I wasn't necessarily focusing on the words - simply letting them fall into the air and pick up a phrase here or there which might settle in my soul.
Somehow, in some way, my mind was clear enough at one point to actually hear what Psalm 116 was saying. It seemed like my own longing, my own prayer, my own 'truth' (I know people get annoyed with the phrase, 'my truth' - but for now, let's just go with it, ok?). I think Psalms are like that - they give us words for our inner selves where we may lack them. I know I write to express myself, but not everyone does. And I don't even do it all the time. Hey, I've just gone an entire year with no journaling, which is concerning at some level, but goes to show, there are times where words simply don't flow. Some of us need a connection to our selves that words doesn't always supply. But then there is that need to frame our experience, our prayer, our inner life with God. Psalms does that for me. It might for you too, if you let it.
I know not all who read this are Bible readers like I am. And I'm not suggesting we all need to be copycat imitations of each other. Got puts each of us on a journey towards Him (I believe), and there are those who choose to walk this journey with His words close at hand. I am one of those. It seems to me, in my experience, that over time, as I have read and soaked in Scripture that a slow metamorphosis takes place in me. The words seem fantastical at times. They seem bold, daring, depressing, sometimes audacious. The words fascinate me, and at times, befuddle me. They irk me, annoy me, raise multiple questions, and sometimes leave me wondering at the nature of God Who gives these words to us.
But on my very sick bed a year ago, I stumbled into Psalm 116. With what little energy I had, tears were able to form and soak my already sweat-drenched pillow. I marveled that I could even cry, that I could even emote. But here these words floated into the air, and I never got to Psalm 119. I simply listened to Psalm 116 over and over. These were my words, my soul-words to God. My truth, if you will. My heart had somehow joined the Psalmist and claimed his words as my own. This is why we say Scripture is inspired. Because it breathes new life even into the deadest of souls. And sometimes that is a perfect description for me.
I may write expressively at times, and sometimes there just is that smidgen of life in me that bursts out through words. But often that is the polar opposite of how I feel. Sometimes I live numb, disengaged, checked out of life. There are so many things that overwhelm me, whether they should or shouldn't isn't the issue here: they simply do. And this past year I think I just crashed somewhere along the way and the words were sucked dry.
In that dark few weeks, I sensed my body shutting down, but there was a stillness, a quiet, a reflection that took place in that inner sanctum that is me. Surely our bodies are a Temple, and the Holy Spirit communes with me in the Inner Castle of my heart (thanks for that thought, Teresa of Avila!). The words of Psalm 116 became knit into me - when I had no prayer to pray, this became my soul cry:
"I love the LORD, because He has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy."
I love how it's not this very pious notion that I just love the Lord because He is so great and worth my love (et cetera et cetera). Of course that is true, but in this Psalm it's fairly existential: God has heard my requests, so I love Him. It's very matter-of-fact - a transactional relationship. It almost feels like an equation or formula: God does this, so I love Him. It's everything the most devout Christians work against. We promote loving God when it seems He doesn't hear us (and yes, that's good too). But I love how this Psalm opens with this plain, self-interested statement. I love God because He actually hears me. It sounds like there might be more, so let's read on:
"Because He inclined His ear to me, therefore I will call on Him as long as I live."
It's almost like that foxhole moment where the soldier knows he's about to die, but then makes a vow that He'll follow God the rest of His life if God will spare Him. This time the Psalmist is making that same kind of vow. God has opened His ear to me, so I will keep talking into that open ear the rest of my days.
A year ago, I thought this very thing. "God, obviously You are hearing me. I will keep talking as long as You're listening...forever." In these dark days as I thought I might not make it, I looked back over the 44 years of my life and saw many things I was sad about - regrets I had - ways I'd squandered the years God had given me. I thought about how I had often wanted not to live. How through the various seasons of life, I had succumbed to deep despair. Even in those moments of regret, I found grace. God was not scolding me, wagging a proverbial finger in my nose. Much to the contrary, He offered me love, and through these words, confirmed that He heard my prayer. He granted me mercy.
"The snares of death encompassed me;
the pangs of Sheol (place of the dead) laid hold on me;
I suffered distress and anguish. Then I called on the name of the LORD:
'O LORD, I pray, deliver my soul!'"
As these words floated over me, I began to weep. I felt like I was in the snares of death. I was suffering, not only physically, but emotionally. I felt I had done nothing with the years of life God had given me. I realize that is a bit dark and heavy and probably not true at all. I know I've raised some kids and been a wife, and friend, and teacher, and pianist and, and, and... These are the things others see, things I have done. There is an inner critic in each of us, and with me, sometimes she can be very pronounced. I'm not saying I agree now, looking back, with my own self-judgements. But that they sat on my soul like a heavy weight. In the moment I heard these words, it's as if I was being befriended by a wise sage, a sufferer like me, from long, long ago. These words were written before my greatest great grandparents were born, before Jesus came, before the modern world! And yet they speak to the deepest pain of my life. How had I not discovered this Psalm before? How had I not soaked in its truth?
"Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; our God is merciful.
The LORD preserves the simple; when I was brought low, He saved me."
When I thought of all my regrets - of ways I hadn't filled up my time with lasting fruit - I felt that shame that whispers the lie "You aren't good enough." And God says, I am Gracious, I am righteous, I am merciful. For whatever ways I feel not good enough, the answer isn't, "Oh, but you are!" or "Oh, but you can be! Just try harder!" or "Oh, you're not so bad!" None of these responses will suffice for the hurting soul. The only real comfort for the not-good-enough is that God is good enough. That His goodness extends to the simple, the low, the disheartened, those who carry shame based in truth or not. "Grace, all is Grace - and there's grace for this, in ME." I seemed to hear God say to me in these words of Psalm 116.
"Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you."
As God ministered His truth to my wounded soul, He also instructed me. Giving me a pathway forward: return to rest. What could this mean? Where is rest found? I recalled Hebrews 4 where it says, "There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God." Resting is foundational to trust, to salvation, to being rescued. When I think of rest, I cannot help but to think of work. It takes work to rest. Those who observe a physical, weekly Sabbath know this. To get to that place of calm, quiet, and rest, much effort is required. For me to return to rest, might mean clearing space for it. It might mean saying no to certain activities. It might mean feeling withdrawn, removed, unactive. And that's ok. God invites me to His bountiful provision, so that I might rest.
"For You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling; I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
I believed, even when I spoke: "I am greatly afflicted"; I said in my alarm,
"All mankind are liars."
God has delivered me - my soul is delivered from death - but for now, my body also. And the tears that I shed, He continues to deliver. Whenever I see the phrase 'my feet from stumbling' I remember the fateful night that drew Sam and I together, when I jumped off the balcony to call for help in the middle of the night when 4 men broke in and violently assaulted us. I had recently been on crutches and had a weak ankle, but I was able to land and not re-injure it. I was able to run, and not stumble. God preserved my feet from stumbling then, and He continues to guide me each day. God has done so much for me! I like how the Psalmist says, "I will walk before the Lord..." I think it's a phrase we often miss as to what that means. It's easy for me to think "I will walk before my husband, my family, my church, my school, my workplace, my friends." To think what matters is what they think of me, of how I live. But I want to be like this Psalmist: I want to walk before the Lord - it's His face, His joy, His life in me that I orient myself around.
And I love that bit about 'the land of the living.' This is a big bone I have to pick with the evangelical heaven narrative. It's all well and good. I am evangelical. I believe in heaven. But the heaven narrative is over-used and leads to a warped perspective. God put us HERE in the land of the LIVING. That means, our feet firmly planted on the ground, on earth, not in heaven. Of course Paul writes, 'Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things, for you died and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.' I get that! I DO that! I promote that! But the Bible also tells us to live here and now, in this world, not pining away for heaven, not passively accepting suffering that could be abated! The heaven-narrative can cause deep suffering: it can induce us to accept misery and not work to ameliorate it. Yes, heaven is real, and of course I can't wait to go there. But God hasn't called me there yet. He's called me here, to live in the land of the living. To be His life in the world.
"What shall I render to the LORD for all His benefits to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD,
I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all His people."
I love this - what can I give to God for all the ways He's given to me? We're still in that transactional mode of thinking! This is an actual real relationship with the living God. He talks to God like he wants to pay Him back, somehow. (Again, oh, the audacity!) He probably knows there's nothing he can really do to thank God for preserving his life. But he does choose to do something. He celebrates and recognizes the salvation God has granted. The idea of lifting up the cup of salvation is a way of saying, "Hey everyone, SEE THIS!" He can't exactly pay God back. Nor can we. Every week millions of people gather around a table, and a cup is lifted up. The cup can be seen by all who gather. The cup is then shared among the people. We call it Eucharist (thanksgiving) or Holy Communion (Common union). It is called the cup of salvation. In it, we recognize that blood was shed for our salvation. If you've ever wondered what Christians are doing with all that Bread and Wine, gathering at a table for these simple elements, this is what it's about: celebrating our salvation, recognizing the source of all good, and the sacrifice that was made to redeem us.
No, the Psalmist can't pay God back. But He can make God famous. He can tell others how God has helped him, how God rescued him, how God spared and preserved his life.
Hmmm, maybe that's what I'm doing right now. I'm writing about the time God spared my life. I'm telling you how God helped me, preserved me, upheld me, gave me grace upon grace. Christian gatherings ought to be like this: places we go to share before others how God has shown Himself in real and powerful and personal ways.
"Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints. O LORD, I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant.
You have loosed my bonds. I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the LORD. I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all His people, in the courts of the house of the LORD, in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Praise the LORD!"
Comments
Post a Comment