The Psalm 88.
This is a psalm written, as we know from the superscript,
by Haman the Ezraite, a wise man, the grandson of Judah,
for public lament.
Like the psalms we are singing tonight, it is personal,
but was intended to invite us all in.
A song, a psalm of the sons of Korah,
for the director of music, according to Mahalath Leonoth,
a mascal of Haman the Ezraite.
O Lord, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you.
May my prayer come before you.
Turn your ear to my cry.
For my soul is full of trouble, and my life draws near the grave.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit.
I am like a man without strength.
I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care.
You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily upon me.
You have overwhelmed me with all your waves.
You have taken from me my closest friends,
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape.
My eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, O Lord, every day.
I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do those who are dead rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in destruction?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, O Lord.
In the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, O Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?
From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death.
I have suffered your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me.
Your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood.
They have completely engulfed me.
You have taken my companions and loved ones from me.
The darkness is my closest friend.
Lament.
Scotland is known for its laments.
On the Wikipedia page for lament,
there is a special section just devoted to Scotland.
However, this was our past.
What about now?
We don't like to think about lament in our culture.
In a culture that feels entitled to self-fulfillment and happiness,
lament is the awkward relative who everyone hopes will skip the next family gathering.
We may join in lamenting something for a short while,
but there's a cultural pressure to recover quickly,
to get better, to become economically productive,
to take care of yourself and have it all together.
A 2015 BBC article begins by saying,
The British funeral has been transformed.
Increasingly, the ceremony pays tribute to the deceased's life instead of mourning their death.
Why?
It may be the only thing that's inevitable in life,
but death is changing.
Now it's a time to be joyful.
Instead of looking ahead to the afterlife,
British funerals increasingly rejoice in memories of the deceased's triumphs,
relationships, and their favourite songs.
There's a phrase for ceremonies like this,
a celebration of life.
The tone is happy rather than mournful,
celebratory instead of sombre.
Wearing black is commonly discouraged.
You're more likely to hear Monty Python's looking on the bright,
always look on the bright side of life than Verdi's Requiem.
Does this shock you?
What place does it leave for grief?
Are we not allowed to hurt anymore?
In essence, the message is,
don't feel pain, recover quickly.
Some of us may be dealing with loss,
coming here in pain, with questions.
Perhaps we're facing the loss of a family member,
or a friend,
or facing other issues,
such as ongoing illness or psychological distress.
You may be wondering,
questioning why you're going through these things.
The culture's response appears to want to shut off pain,
to ignore it,
to focus on the bright side of life,
not to ask painful questions.
But is that the way of the Bible?
Is that God's way?
Please turn with me back to Psalm 88.
What did you think of when you heard this psalm this evening?
That was depressing.
What happened to him in the Ezraite?
Did God answer him?
This psalm is unique.
As the one psalm with no happiness,
no resolution.
Perhaps you're wondering why there is a psalm like this in the Bible.
Let's consider together what it teaches us about lament.
While we think about this,
let's keep in mind what the superscript to the psalm teaches us.
That psalms are not just for individuals.
They are corporate songs.
Therefore, we must not think only about the private,
but the corporate value of lament.
This psalm is both for the suffering person,
church, or people group,
and for those who are not currently suffering,
but know others who are.
We are inevitably always part of one or both of these groups.
The first line of this psalm is vitally important to the whole psalm.
It states a great truth,
and is the whole reason why the psalmist cries out to God.
O Lord, the God who saves me,
day and night I cry out before you.
Our Lord, he is the God who saves us.
We'll return to that.
Let's move on.
A major theme of this psalm is crying out to God in our distress.
In the first two verses, we read,
Day and night I cry out before you.
May my prayer come before you.
Turn your ear to my cry.
And again in verse 9.
I call to you, O Lord.
Every day I spread out my hands to you.
And again in verse 13.
But I cry to you for help, O Lord.
In the morning my prayer comes before you.
The first thing this psalm teaches us
is to cry out to the Lord when we are distressed.
To do this early in the morning.
And to do this constantly, day and night, every day.
What do you do when you are in distress?
Do you cry out to the God who saves you?
When Jess was six months pregnant with our daughter Marty,
her sleep was very disturbed.
She kept waking up with pains in her abdomen.
Eventually, at around 4.30 in the morning,
fearful, she woke me up.
What would you have done then?
The first thing we did that morning was cry out to God for help.
Straight afterwards, Jess started bleeding.
Mari was born that day, three months early.
So small that my wedding ring could fit around her entire foot.
We didn't stop crying out to God for her
during her ten weeks in hospital.
What happens when Haman the Ezraite cries out to God?
What response does he get?
We don't find out in this psalm.
He calls out three times with no reply, no resolution.
Have you ever felt like that in the deepest pit?
Haman sounds like he's crying out in depression.
When I was in year 11 in Australia,
the equivalent of S5 here,
I became stuck in a cycle of months of depression.
It was a horrible pattern of self-guilt and self-hatred,
crushing intense loneliness of every second of the day.
During that time,
I almost continually told myself I was worthless.
If I didn't feel like getting up in the morning,
it was because I was worthless.
If I forgot to brush my teeth,
I was worthless.
Any minor thing you can think of,
I was worthless.
The only joy I found in life
was during some few fleeting moments
in the company of friends,
but everything always faded to dust.
This psalm was a great comfort to me then
because it described my own experience,
crying out in pain to the one who saves.
I regularly cried out,
God, help me,
and he did.
He didn't sweep me out of my situation,
but he led me and guided me slowly through
and out of the pain.
Here's the reason I'm still here.
I'm a great fan of Tolkien's Middle Earth.
I liked the Lord of the Rings movies,
but I love the books.
There is one moment that I think captures this feeling
of depression well.
Sam and Frodo are nearing the end of their quest
to destroy the evil ring of power.
They're in Mordor,
a dark, hot wasteland,
the land of the Dark Lord.
As they near the end of their quest,
they realize they are unlikely to return.
Sam, feeling nostalgic about throwing away some cookware,
says,
Do you remember that bit of rabbit, Mr. Frodo,
and our place under the warm bank
in Captain Faramir's country,
the day I saw an elephant,
which is basically an elephant?
Frodo replies,
No, I'm afraid not, Sam.
At least, I know that such things happened,
but I cannot see them.
No taste of food,
no feel of water,
no sound of wind,
no memory of tree
or grass or flower,
no image of moon or star
are left to me.
I am naked in the dark, Sam,
and there is no veil between me
and the wheel of fire.
I begin to see it,
even with my waking eyes,
and all else fades.
Have you ever felt like that in some way?
What do we do when we're in such a place?
We cry out to God,
and don't give up.
That's what Haman the Ezraite did.
That's what Job did.
Even when it feels like he isn't listening,
we keep crying out to God
because he is the God who saves us.
No matter how long the pain lasts,
he will save us if only we trust in him.
This psalm helps us when we feel that way.
It gives us words to use to cry out.
God has put me in the lowest pit.
In the darkest depths,
his wrath lies heavily on me.
Have you ever heard anyone speak that way?
If you did,
what would you think?
Would you think,
you can't say that?
If so,
you would be wrong.
This psalm teaches us
it's okay to cry out in pain
like Haman the Ezraite.
We can take his words
and make them our own.
Many of God's people
have found comfort
in using these words
in the midst of their pain.
We may know that God cares for us
and died for us,
but that doesn't mean
we always feel that.
God gave us these words
to let us know
we can voice our pain
and seek comfort from him.
And even with Haman
to question God
in the midst of our pain.
In verses 10 to 12,
Haman boldly questions God.
And in verse 14,
he even dares to say,
why, O Lord,
do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
Most of us will feel like this
at some point in our lives.
And this psalm encourages us
to ask these questions,
to pour out our pain
before God.
I myself have used words like this,
even this year,
when constantly plagued by sickness,
feeling like I was getting
nothing done on my PhD,
being daily disturbed in sleep.
One day,
I felt I had reached
the end of my tether.
I literally fell down
before God saying,
why are you doing this to us?
How does this serve your will?
Be honest before God.
He knows what's on your heart.
Even before you speak,
do not be afraid
to speak boldly before God.
Haman wasn't.
Let's share our pain with God
and pour out our hearts to him.
It's what he wants.
That's why he gave us these words.
Did God answer Haman directly?
We do not know.
We may not receive an answer
when we want it.
When he does answer us,
we may not receive
the answers we wanted.
Who's read Job,
that thick, depressing book?
In many ways,
it's the long version of this psalm.
But unlike this psalm,
God answers directly.
After 37 chapters,
God answers Job.
But not in the way Job expects.
Job has been crying out,
saying,
what did I do to deserve this?
How is this justice?
But God answers him,
saying,
Who is this
that darkens my counsel
with words without knowledge?
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.
Where were you
when I laid the foundations
of the earth?
Tell me if you understand.
And again he says,
Would you discredit my justice?
Adorn yourself
with glory and splendor.
Clothe yourself
in honor and majesty.
Unleash the fury
of your wrath.
Look at every proud man
and bring him low.
Crush the wicked
where they stand.
Then I myself
will admit to you
that your own right hand
can save you.
The answer God gives
is that what is happening
is beyond Job's comprehension
and power.
He has to trust in God,
the one who saves.
This is something
that I and others
have found immensely comforting.
The reminder
of God's power,
that he is in control,
not us.
That he has everything
in his hands.
That he is the God
who saves.
Does this mean
we shouldn't ask questions
because we have
God's answer to Job?
Or that we should fear
God's answer
and stay silent?
Of course not.
As I was just saying before,
Psalm 88
gives us a model.
It gives us words
to frame our pain
when we can't find the words.
By all means,
cry out to God
and ask him.
Say to him with Haman,
why, O Lord,
do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
His answer may pain us
in some way,
but we know
that in all things
God works for the good
of those who love him.
How much more
when he talks with us?
We can trust him.
It is healthy
to bear our soul to God
and he welcomes it.
If he did not,
would he give us
this psalm
specifically
for our corporate use?
He shows us
that we are not alone.
There are others
feeling and asking
the same things.
There will be others
in the future.
And what does this psalm
mean for the congregation?
The brothers and sisters
in Christ
are the one who's such us.
How does it teach us?
Apart from teaching us
that it's okay
for our brother or sister
to speak like this,
it can also teach us
their pain
to help us mourn
with those who mourn
as God commands us
through the words of Paul.
Let's dwell on that
for a wee bit.
What does this psalm
have to do with mourning
with those who mourn?
Where are Haman
the Ezraites' friends
in this psalm?
In verse 8 we read,
you have taken from me
my closest friends
and have made me
repulsive to them.
Again in verse 18,
you have taken
my companions
and loved ones
from me.
The darkness
is my closest friend.
Where are his friends?
Did they comfort him
initially
and get sick of him?
Did they decide
that it was getting them
down
to be around him?
That it was too depressing?
That it was too hard?
And they didn't have time
for that kind of negativity
in their lives.
How did they try
to comfort him?
Were they like Job's friends
accusing him of sinning,
suggesting the answer
was simple,
repent
and all will be well?
Were they like the prophets
at the time of Jeremiah
crying out,
shalom,
peace,
when there was no peace?
What about us?
Are we trying
like these friends,
like those prophets,
to heal the wounds
of God's people
lightly?
This psalm highlights
something people
often do,
abandon the sufferer
to their suffering,
especially when it
lasts a long time.
This should not be.
We should not fear
to share the pain
and to mourn
with those who mourn.
This is what God
has called us to.
James writes,
religion that our God
and Father accepts
as pure and faultless
is this,
to look on orphans
and widows
in their distress
and to keep oneself
from,
sorry,
to look after orphans
and widows
in their distress
and to keep oneself
from being polluted
by the world.
And again,
he writes,
what good is it,
my brothers and sisters,
if a person claims
to have faith
but has no deeds?
Can that faith
save them?
Suppose a brother
or sister
is without clothes
and daily food.
If one of you
says to them,
go,
I wish you well,
keep warm
and well fed,
but does nothing
for his physical needs,
what good is it?
In the same way,
faith by itself,
if it is not
accompanied by action,
is dead.
Is our faith
living faith?
Do we help out
those who are afflicted
when we can?
Will we,
in the future,
care for those
who are suffering
around us?
Some of us
will have seen
the movie
The King's Speech.
It's set between
the world wars.
It centres around
King George VI
and a man named
Lionel Logue.
King George
had a stutter
and Lionel Logue
was the King's
speech therapist.
However,
before that,
Logue worked in
Adelaide,
Australia,
with Australians
who came back
from the First World War
with speech problems.
At one point
in the movie,
he talks about
this time saying,
Those poor young blokes
cried out in fear.
No one was listening
to them.
My job
was to give them
faith in their own voice
and to let them know
a friend was listening.
This is something
we can do
for our brothers
and sisters in Christ.
We can give them
faith in their own voice.
To encourage them
in crying out to God.
To let them know
a friend is listening
in and through
their pain.
But we can do
even more than that.
We can join with them
in crying out to God.
Entering into their pain
and their cry with them.
Truly showing them
that they are not alone.
We can make the last line
of Psalm 88.
The darkness
is my closest friend.
We can make that line
untrue for them.
There is something
deeply comforting
about knowing people
are dedicated
to praying to God
for you
and your situation.
When babies are born
three months early,
they are incredibly fragile.
The healthiest
27-week-old
can be dead
in hours
if they catch a virus.
After Marty
was born
at 27 weeks,
we had hundreds
of people
over Australia
praying for us.
We had at least
four churches
and two theological
colleges
and their supporters
praying for all of us.
We were blessed
with a healthy baby,
but she was fragile.
And there was
the ever-present fear
of that phone call,
come quickly
to say goodbye.
It was so comforting
knowing that so many
people were joining
with us
in our traumatic
situation
and asking
for God's help.
Come,
let us mourn
with those who mourn.
Let us share
in the pain
of our brothers
and sisters
and comfort them
in their distress.
Let us use
the words
of this psalm
to cry out
on their behalf
and let's not
limit ourselves
to those
in our immediate area.
Most of the people
praying for me
and my family
when Murray was born
did not know us
personally.
We can lament
with and cry out
for all those
who are suffering
or in distress
in Scotland,
in the UK
and around the world.
I've been mostly
talking about
the individual
who suffers
but we should
think also
of families,
churches
and people groups
who are suffering.
We should also
lament
for those who suffer
who do not believe.
Let us not be
like Jonah
who wished
for the destruction
of Nineveh
but instead
let us be like God
who cares for
everyone.
He says to Jonah
and to us,
should I not pity
Nineveh,
that great city
in which there are
more than
120,000 persons?
We've asked
how this psalm
teaches the sufferer
and those who are
not personally suffering.
Now I want to turn
back to that first verse.
Why was it so
comforting for us
after Murray
was born
to know that
there were others
crying out to God
on our behalf
for one reason?
We know
our God
is the God
who saves
and he's not
just the God
who saves.
He's more than that.
He's the God
who came and dwelt
among us,
who bore
our weaknesses
and now we can say
with the author
of Hebrews
that we do not
have a high priest
who is unable
to sympathize
with our weaknesses
but we have one
who has been tempted
in every way
just as we are
yet was without sin.
Let us then
approach the throne
of grace
with confidence
so that we may
receive mercy
and find grace
to help us
in our time
of need.
Jesus was tempted
while starving
in the wilderness.
He had people
seeking him
for only what
they could get
out of him.
He faced the
infirmities
of human existence
but greater
than all those
was his betrayal
and death.
He experienced
great anxiety
and distress
leading up to his arrest.
On the Mount of Olives
before he was arrested
Jesus said to his disciples
my soul
is overwhelmed
with sorrow
to the point
of death.
Stay here
and keep watch
with me.
But what did they do?
They promptly
fell asleep.
Jesus knows
what it's like
to have friends
who do not support
us in our distress.
He also knows
what it's like
to go through
hard times.
He knows
what it's like
to not want
to go through
those times.
He actually
asked for a way
out.
He prayed
to God
saying
my father
if it is
possible
may this
cup
be taken
from me
yet not
as I will
but as
you will.
And again
he prayed
my father
if it is
not possible
for this
cup
to be taken
away
unless I
drink it
may your
will
be done.
He knows
what it's like
to be deserted
by his friends.
After praying
these prayers
he was arrested
and all his
disciples
deserted him.
Peter disowned
him three
times.
All his
friends
deserted him
in his hour
of need
not one
stood by him.
Jesus
even knows
what it's
like to feel
forsaken
by God.
While he
was on the
cross
Jesus
cried out
which means
my God
why have
you forsaken
me?
Does
Jesus
understand
our
troubles?
Does he
understand
our mortal
pains?
Yes
in every
way.
It is
this God
this
Jesus
who saves
us.
God
is
God
is
God
who
is
God
is
unable
to
sympathize
with our
weaknesses
but we
have one
who has been
tempted in
every way
just as we
are
yet was without
sin.
let us
approach the
throne of
grace
with confidence
so that we
may receive
mercy
and find
grace to
help us
in our
time of
need.
So what
does Psalm
88 teach
us?
When we're
in distress
remember
you're not
the only one
who's felt
this way.
Many of
God's people
have.
Cry out
to God
and entrust
yourself to
him
because
he is
the God
who
saves
and more
than that
the God
who feels
and understands
your pain.
This Psalm
gives us
words to
use
and lets
us know
it's okay
to voice
our distress.
It's okay
to show
our distress.
When others
are in distress
do not be a
false friend.
Mourn with
those who
mourn.
Join with
them in
crying out
to God
on their
behalf.
We
should
by our
actions
make people
feel safe
to share
their distresses
with us.
This Psalm
gives us
words to
use to
share and
understand
the distresses
of others
and bring
their distress
before God.
Remember
God is
the one
who saves.
He knows
and understands
the pain
we're going
through.
He understands
the pain
of the one
who follows
him as
well as
the one
who does
not follow
him.
If you
do not yet
follow him
why don't
you turn
to him
the God
of all
comfort
and receive
his perfect
comfort in
your troubles
too.
Let's put
this into
practice now.
Whether you're
struggling yourself
or know
someone who
is or
just know
of people
who are
take a
minute to
pray where
you are
to share
your pain
or their
pain with
God asking
him to help
us all
through our
weaknesses
and draw
us closer
to him.
Amen.