Psalms for Today: A Prayer for Help
Psalm 13
Pentecost 4 (NL3 – Summer)
June 16, 2013
“How long, O Lord,” the psalmist cries, “will you forget me forever? How long will you hide from me?” In a few short days we have moved from the adoration of Psalm 100 to the agony of Psalm 13. Life is like that, isn’t it, as it can change in the blink of an eye? One minute we are making joyful noises to the Lord and the next minute we wonder if the Lord exists, let alone be worthy of praise. One minute we are oriented, being pointed toward God as the source and ground of our very being. The next minute we are disoriented, everything we know and trust being called into question.
Psalm 13 is classified as a prayer for help, and it is no surprise that these “laments” are most numerous in Psalms. About one-third of the psalms are of this type. Perhaps it is because we find ourselves in these situations so frequently, thrown for a loop in a world that is all too “loopy.” We are a broken, imperfect people in a world determined to break us more. Even those of us who live relatively uneventful and blessed lives are not immune from disruption that the psalm describes. Psalm 13 and others like it help us to not only find our voices, but also helps us find ourselves through them.
There are few things worse in life than being forgotten or ignored, as any child knows who has been left behind in a game of Hide and Seek, or an adult whose calls or emails go unanswered. In fact, I would much rather have someone angry with me to my face than silently walk away or talk behind my back. Really. Psalm 13 not only helps us express the almost inexpressible, our deepest pain and sorrow, it also expresses that, all evidence to the contrary, God has not forgotten us and invites us into God’s very being. The psalmist declares that during those times we feel adrift from God we are still attached in a profound way.
H. George Anderson was the second presiding bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, serving from 1995 to 2001. He tells about when his wife died from a long, painful illness, that he stopped believing in God because he couldn’t see how a loving God could let his wife suffer so much. However, Bishop Anderson continued to go to church because, “When we can’t believe, we go to worship to be around others who can believe for us.”
Similarly, my good friend Shirley tells about when her mother died, that she went to church hoping to hear a word that could ease her pain and disorientation. She didn’t receive it from the pastor or worship, but she did receive if from two friends, who walked with her, talked with her, and shared her pain. They embody what the psalmist expresses and our baptismal service charges to parents: that we are to live among God’s faithful people.
When the torrential rain and floods hit Southeastern Minnesota in 2007, people like Mankatoan Greg Nelson came to help, and one way that happened was to understand the psychology of flood recovery. He told us how our lives are going along normally (orientation) and then his catastrophe hits (disorientation), sending us into a chasm of despair. There is immediate help, but that is short term. Recovery takes some time, but it results in a new normal (reorientation). We get a hint of the reorienting promises of God’s presence today, but we’ll see more of that next week in Psalm 23.
It seems that this process happens in many areas of our lives where we experience loss or suffering. But it also seems that it is the way of the cross: God sent Jesus into our world seeking to orient us to God’s love. In the cross, perhaps the most disorienting of all events, God takes all of our brokenness and despair upon himself and through the resurrection God gives us a new normal, abundant life, reorienting us in a profound way. Because of the cross, we know that God will not leave us or forsake us. God has not forgotten us. In the midst of our disorientation, we cling to God’s steadfast love, trusting in his presence and mercy. Amen.
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