Well, please do turn with me in your Bibles, if you have one with you, to this very remarkable Psalm, Psalm 88.
! I wonder if, like me, you often find the Bible deeply unsettling reading.
The Bible not only richly encourages us,
it at times profoundly perplexes us.
And that's because, I think, there is an intense honesty in the Bible about the life of faith.
The life of faith is lived before the God who is from everlasting to everlasting,
whose thoughts are higher than our thoughts, whose ways are higher and holier and wiser than our ways.
We live our days out before Him who has ordained all things from the beginning to the end.
And it shouldn't surprise us that life can be deeply, profoundly, unsettlingly perplexing.
I wonder if you've ever realized that over 40% of the book of Psalms is laments.
59 of the 150 Psalms are laments.
Songs in a minor key, sometimes so minor as Psalm 88,
you can hardly lift your voice out of the depths to sing them.
I wonder if you've ever asked yourself,
why are there so many laments in the book of Psalms?
This was the songbook of God's Old Covenant Church.
This was the songbook of our Lord Jesus Christ.
He would have sung the Psalms.
Why so many laments?
Well, of course, the answer is very simple, isn't it?
The life of faith is lived out in a fallen, anti-God, anti-Christ world.
The life of faith is lived out in a world where the evil one, the devil himself,
holds remarkable sway under the sovereign, overruling power and purpose of God.
And we have added to that the constant tension of indwelling sin,
the sin that yet remains within us to humble us,
and at times bring us so low,
we all must wonder,
Lord, is it possible that someone like me could really be a Christian?
Maybe you've never thought that.
You would be an unusual beast if you never have.
Indwelling sin can be so humbling, so disheartening.
You think, Lord, here I am again,
after so many years,
confessing the same sins.
When will I ever learn?
Have I ever learned?
I've been thinking these past months somewhat about how the Lord Jesus Christ
was always pressing on would-be disciples,
the cost that would be involved in following Him.
We know these words so well,
unless you take up your cross and follow me,
you cannot be my disciple.
But I wonder if we really pause long enough to ask ourselves,
what exactly is Jesus saying here?
He isn't saying that life will be full of minor inconveniences
that will bring a little bit of disturbance into your life.
He's saying,
unless you're ready to die,
and to die a cruel,
viciously cruel death,
for me,
you cannot be my disciple.
Imagine someone came to you tonight and said,
I know you're a Christian.
Tell me,
what must I do to become a follower of Jesus Christ?
And you say to them,
well, our Lord says,
unless you take up your cross and follow Him,
unless you hate father, mother, wife,
husband, child, friend,
compared to your love to Him,
you cannot be His disciple.
I just wonder what they would think.
Are you serious?
Do you not want me to belong
to the community of faith to which you belong?
And you would say,
with all my heart,
but I need to tell you,
because this is what our Lord Jesus tells us,
that the life of faith can be profoundly,
unsettlingly,
deeply,
pervasively,
overwhelmingly,
dark,
and difficult.
Psalm 88 is an extreme song of lament.
We're not told why this man of God
is suffering so overwhelmingly.
Some suggest,
some suggest,
with the introduction,
a song,
a psalm of the sons of Korah
to the choir master,
according to Mahaloth,
Le'anoth.
Some suggest,
excellent Hebrew scholars,
that they are,
that the words reflect something
of mental disturbance.
silence.
But we're not told.
And we're not told,
perhaps,
so that the psalm can apply
to God's overwhelmed people,
no matter the reason
for their desolation and desperation.
for this man is desolate and desperate.
And do you notice how the psalm ends?
I think our English versions tend to smooth out the Hebrew.
My companions have become darkness.
I think probably better,
darkness is my only friend.
Darkness is my only friend.
Verse 8,
You have caused my companions to shun me.
You have made me a horror to them.
All I've got left is darkness.
darkness.
No spark of hope.
No upbeat ending.
You know,
you meet Christians
and they always seem to give the impression
that everything will turn out fine.
Just believe.
You want to avoid people like that,
as you would avoid the plague.
No upbeat ending.
This is one man's experience,
but God in His wisdom
has inscripturated it
in the songbook
of His people.
Now, we don't know who this Haman was.
There is a Haman
who is mentioned in 1 Chronicles 6.
He was one of the temple singers
that David appointed
to celebrate
when the temple would be built.
Possibly it's him.
We don't really know who he was.
We don't know
really the nature of his suffering.
Was it mental?
Was it spiritual?
Was it physical?
Was it a combination of all three?
What we do know
is that his whole being
is shrouded in darkness.
God seems to have
abandoned him.
And darkness
is his only
companion.
So, in this psalm,
we are confronted
with a man
whose life
is a life
of unrelieved,
unceasing,
moment by moment,
day by day,
utter turmoil.
Every moment
of the day
he is bereft.
Look what he says
in verse 16 and 17.
Your wrath
has swept over me.
Your dreadful assaults
destroy me.
They surround me
like a flood
all
day
long.
There's
not a moment
where he finds
relief
from the desolations
that have
enshrouded him
and overwhelmed him.
everywhere he looks,
it seems
that his God,
the God of his salvation,
look what he writes
in verse 1,
O Lord,
God of my salvation.
Everywhere he looks,
it seems to him
from the providences
of his life
that the God
of his salvation
has abandoned him,
turned against him,
he is
a broken
man.
Now,
before I say
a number of things
about the psalm,
I want to
ask a question.
Is
Henman
a depressed
believer?
That would be
the conclusion
that we could
perhaps most
obviously jump to
as we read
through the psalm.
Here is a man
who is in the depths
of depression.
And it may be
the case.
But I wonder
myself
if the truth
is actually
a little more
profound
than that.
it's not
that he
is depressed.
It is
that he
is a
faithful
believer
who is
experiencing
the cost
of faithfulness
to the
God of his
salvation.
You know
the Psalms
42 and 43,
why are you
cast down,
O my soul?
Why are you
so distressed
within me?
You read
most commentaries
and they say,
here is a
depressed
believer.
I don't think
it is a
depressed
believer.
I think
it is
someone who
has entered
into the
experience
of the
costliness
of
faithfulness.
Now don't
get me wrong,
depression is
real and
Christians can
easily get
depressed,
overwhelmingly
depressed.
But perhaps
here we
are seeing
a man
who is
where he
is,
not so
much because
of mental
disturbance,
or perhaps
even of
physical
illness that
has caused
his companions
to shun him
as he puts
it.
Some
commentators
think that
he has a
severe case
of leprosy.
But perhaps
we're simply
being confronted
with a man
who is
agonizing
over the
fact that
the Lord
God Almighty
is the God
of his
salvation.
But look
at my
life.
How do I
reconcile my
circumstances,
my overwhelming
darkness,
with the fact
that God is
the God of
my salvation?
salvation.
And it
may be that
he is simply
living out as
an old
covenant
echo the
ultimate
faithfulness of
the faithful
servant of
the Lord,
Jesus Christ
himself.
But we'll
come to that
in a short
time.
Let me make
six observations
very simply,
very briefly.
I know our
time is hurrying
on.
Notice first of
all that in
his darkness,
he prayed.
His darkness
did not drive
him from
God.
It cast
him upon
God.
O Lord,
God of my
salvation,
I cry out
day and
night before
you.
Let my
prayer come
before you.
Incline your
ear to my
cry.
He has not
turned his
back on God,
though it seems
to him God
has turned his
back on him.
He will
not let
God go.
Life has
become
unrelieved
darkness.
What does
he do?
He lifts
up his
heart to
the Lord.
Secondly,
notice that he
prayed as a
man of
faith.
His faith is
battered,
perhaps it's
even broken,
but it's
functioning.
I don't
think there's
any suggestion
in the
psalm that
it was his
sin that
had brought
these calamities
upon his
life.
He's left
with this
conundrum.
Why,
O Lord,
God,
you're the
God of
my salvation.
I cry
out to
you day
and night
and you
can almost
feel the
perplexity.
Why?
I sometimes
wonder that
that elemental
cry of our
Savior from
the cross,
my God,
why have
you forsaken
me?
That one of
the implications
of that cry
is to tell
us that
even the
holiest,
purest,
and sinless
of men
experienced
a why
that he
could not
resolve in
his holy
humanity.
I don't
know any
of you
meaningfully
at all,
and your
circumstances
may be very
different from
mine,
but perhaps
for some
of you
there is
this
recurring,
Lord,
why?
Why this?
Why now?
Why?
The Bible
does not
promise us
that this
side of
glory,
our whys,
will be
resolved.
That's why
the psalm
ends,
my only
companion is
darkness.
There's no
happy ending.
Wouldn't it
be lovely
just to have
happy endings
all the time?
I've often
thought of
late when
I've been
praying,
saying,
Lord,
if it
were left
to me,
I wouldn't
have one
difficulty,
trial,
or trouble
touch my
children or
my
grandchildren.
I would
want them
to navigate
this life
safely and
sweetly.
The Lord,
who is
wiser,
says,
that will
not be
for their
good,
either for
their present
good or for
their eternal
good.
And so
we live
by faith
and not
by sight.
We're
Christians
not because
we've got
answers for
everything.
You want
to avoid
people like
that who
have got
answers for
everything.
The older
I get,
the more
ready and
willing I
am to
say,
I don't
know.
But let
me tell
you what
I do
know.
Thirdly,
do you
notice he
prayed every
day?
He says it
in verse
one.
He says it
again in
verse
nine.
My eye
grows dim
through sorrow
every day
I call upon
you,
O Lord.
I spread
out my
hands to
you every
day.
Do you
see what
this man
is saying?
I've got
no one
else to
go to.
I've got
no one
else to
turn to.
I will
not let
you go.
to whom
else can
I go?
Every
day I
call upon
you,
Lord.
You
know,
you meet
people
occasionally
who say,
but if
only you
had more
faith,
if only
you prayed
more,
and,
well,
please God,
I need
my faith
enriched and
deepened,
it's shallow
and shameful.
I need
to be
praying
greatly
more than
I do.
Sometimes
we're left
with this.
Lord,
I pray
every day,
every waking
moment,
and nothing
happens.
Another new
morning breaks
and the
darkness is
there.
But he
won't let
God go.
That's one
of the
stellar,
pristine
marks of
a man
or woman
of God.
They
will not
let
God
go.
And then
fourthly,
notice he
recognizes that
the Lord is
the one
ultimately
behind everything
that's happening
to him.
He knows
that evil
is not
autonomous.
Your wrath
has swept
over me.
Your dreadful
assaults
destroy me.
He
understands
that
Satan
can do
nothing
beyond
God's
holy,
wise,
good,
and perfect
will.
He
understands
that he's
a creature
under the
sovereign,
overruling
will,
purpose,
grace,
mercy,
and kindness
of God.
And he
traces everything
back to its
origin.
He knows
that God
uses sin
sinlessly
for his
glory and
for the
good of
his people.
And he's
saying,
Lord,
I know
that my
life is
not at
the mercy
of mere
circumstance.
I know
that my
life is
not at
the mercy
of mental
turmoil
or physical
distress
or of
companions
deserting
me and
rejecting me.
I know
that ultimately
my times
are in
your hands,
ways that
you ordain
the way
that I
have to
take.
Paul
prayed,
didn't he,
a little
earlier,
your ways
are not
our ways.
You know,
I sometimes
think we,
those of us
in the
Reformed
tradition,
we placard
very seriously
the sovereignty
of God.
Do we
really
understand
what we
are placarding?
The
sovereignty
of the
God
who
sends
in his
wisdom
pandemics?
You know,
I hear
people praying
and they
say,
oh God,
this awful
disease,
it's as if
God has
been benign
and passive
and it's
as if
he is to
now catch
up with
this
unexpected
happening.
He ordains
all that
comes to
pass,
mysteriously,
profoundly,
unfathomably.
You're left
your head
spinning.
If your
head doesn't
spin,
I sometimes
think,
can you
really be
a Christian?
What kind
of world
are you
living in?
Our heads
spin.
We cannot
begin to
fathom the
ways of
the Almighty.
That's why
I love those
words at the
end of
Romans 11.
Where Paul
having so
gloriously,
and you'll
come to
it in
about five
years'
time,
where Paul
says he
so wonderfully
explained the
gospel and
you're swept
along and
then he
ends and
he says,
oh the
depths,
both of the
riches of
the wisdom
and knowledge
of God,
how unsearchable
are his
judgments.
His paths
are beyond
tracing out.
You see,
when we
preach the
cross of
Jesus Christ,
we must
never preach
it as
some kind
of mathematical
theorem.
Here are
all the
parts,
and when you
put them
all together,
you see
marvelous,
propitiatory,
sacrificial
atonement.
We should
be so out
of our
depth,
we hardly
know what
the next
word is
to speak.
And we
speak,
Augustine was
right,
we speak so
that we
don't remain
silent.
You say,
well God's
given us
his word.
Absolutely
he's given
us his
word.
Absolutely
true.
God,
but it
takes us
out of
our
depths.
God,
become
man.
I was
sharing this
with someone
recently,
I was
ministering
Cambridge,
one of the
girls who
started attending
church,
she'd been
brought along,
she asked if
she could
meet with
me for
coffee,
and I
remember
yet sitting
with her
in Starbucks,
and I
could see
she was
building up
to something,
and she's
a bright
girl,
and she
said,
can I
ask you
a question?
I said,
yeah,
you can
ask whatever
you like.
She says,
do you
believe in
Noah's
Ark?
And I
burst out
laughing,
and I
could see
she was a
little
disconcerted.
I said,
believe in
Noah's Ark.
I believe
the creator
of the
cosmos
became a
zygote in
a virgin's
womb.
You think
Noah's Ark's
a problem?
Of course I
believe in
Noah's Ark.
But the
gospel takes
us out of
all our
intellectual
categories and
canons.
Who has
known the
mind of
the Lord?
God
become man?
Jim
Packer was
right.
He says,
we simply
bow down
and worship
because we
don't know
how to
speculate.
And the
early church
was wonderful.
It got
some things
wrong,
but my,
it got
some things
right.
But when
it came
to
explicate
the union
in Jesus
Christ of
God and
man,
they just
used negative
adverbs.
They didn't
know how
to use
positive
adverbs
because they
couldn't
fathom the
inexplicableness,
so they simply
said it was
without confusion,
without division,
without separation,
without mixture.
life is
unfathomable
at times.
But here
is a man
who understands
that behind
all the
providences
that are
overwhelming
him,
it's the
Lord.
Like Psalm
42 and
43,
all your
waves and
breakers
have swept
over me.
just two
things to
go.
Number
five,
the Psalm
reminds us
that the
believing
life may
be marked
by
unrelieved
darkness.
You know
the verse
in Isaiah
50,
let him
who walks
in the
dark and
who has
no light
trust in
his God.
God,
I'm sure
like me
there have
been periods
of darkness
in your
life.
I've never
known what
it is
to have
unrelieved
darkness.
I have a
friend who
once told
me he
envied the
lampposts
of Glasgow
because they
had light.
But in
Isaiah
50,
let him
who walks
in the
darkness
and who
has no
light
yet
trust in
his God.
There's
much I
would like
to say
but I
know our
time has
gone.
You know
this is
one reason
why the
church needs
pastors and
elders who
are gentle
humble
physicians of
the soul,
who are
slow to
speak and
who are
quick to
listen,
who are
patient and
kind,
who don't
offer slick
answers to
people who
are walking
in darkness.
That's why
we need to
take the
greatest care
that the
men we
set apart
to shepherd
the flock
will shepherd
them with
gentleness,
tenderness,
thoughtfulness.
Yes, at
times with
clarity and
conviction but
most often
almost saying
nothing,
slow to
speak and
quick to
listen.
not giving
slick
answers and
maybe,
you know,
maybe the
best thing
you could
ever do
is simply
to sit
and weep
with those
who weep
and to
pray with
them and
to break
your heart
with their
breaking
hearts.
And they
look to
their pastors
and elders
and you
say,
I've got
nothing to
give you
except this.
The God
who spared
not his
only son
and who
delivered him
up for us
all is a
God we
can cast
ourselves upon
in our
extremity,
knowing that
one day he
will wipe
every tear
from our
eyes.
And he'll
make all
things new.
well,
one last
thing,
and I'm
sure you
would be
expecting
this.
In your
darkness,
whatever that
darkness may
be,
if you
were a
Christian
believer,
you have
a companion
who knows
what it is
to be
consumed
by darkness.
On the
cross,
all the
lights went
out for
Jesus Christ.
There wasn't
a pinprick
of light
in the
cosmos of
God's
creation for
the Son
of God.
All the
lights went
out.
He is
able to
help us,
not by
the wonder
of divine
omniscience
and divine
omnipotence,
which he
has,
but he
is able
especially
to help
us,
because he
knows our
frame,
because it
is his
own frame.
There is
dust on
the throne
of heaven,
and that
dust knows
darkness
personally.
It knows
darkness
intimately.
It knows
darkness that
no one of
his people
will ever,
ever,
in 10,000
times,
10,000
years,
begin to
understand.
His
darkness
was a
diameter
removed
from all
our
darknesses.
And
because he
entered
into
darkness,
he is
able to
help
those
who are
going
through
darkness.
And
ultimately,
that's
the comfort
the gospel
gives.
You're
not alone.
you're
not alone.
He may
feel alone.
He may
feel that
darkness
was his
only
companion,
but
actually,
there was
one with
him who
was keeping
him from
apostatizing,
who was
keeping him
from turning
his back
on God
and blaspheming
him.
darkness
was not
his only
companion.
So let
me just
say to
you,
as I say
to myself
tonight,
however
dark your
days may
be,
number
one,
there is
one who
knows your
darkness
because he
has been
in your
darkness.
And secondly,
there is
one who
said,
I will
never leave
you nor
forsake
you.
He may
seem far
off,
but God
would
un-God
himself
if he
abandoned
one of
his blood
bought
children.
let him
who walks
in the
darkness
and who
has no
light
yet
trust
in
his
God.
May the
Lord
bless his
word to
us this
evening.
Let him
let him