“As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
‘Where is your God?’
These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng…
with glad shouts and songs of praise…
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.
My soul is cast down within me;
therefore I remember you…
Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
have gone over me.
By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God, my rock:
‘Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning..?’
As with a deadly wound in my bones,
my adversaries taunt me,..
‘Where is your God?’
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.
Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause..,
deliver me!
For you are the God in whom I take refuge…
Why do I go about mourning..?
Send out your light and your truth;
let them lead me;
let them bring me to your holy hill
and to your dwelling!
Then I will go to the altar of God,
to God my exceeding joy,
and I will praise you with the lyre,
O God, my God.
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.” Psalm 42-43
The psalmist’s song of lament flows with doleful cadence in minor key. Spiritual famine, sorrow, setbacks have served only tasteless tears night and day. Distance from God, taunts from those nearby, bones and soul ache. Yet his refrain turns the notes to spring from winter, melody lifting the shroud from shadow to light. The God who hears his mourning and receives his anguished questions is worthy of hope. This God of his salvation is worthy of praise.
The agony of lament is palpable. Borne in pain, bent downcast, a dirge may draw out long. Yet, lament to the living God need not remain in weeping or shadows, but find uplifting resolution in the perfect refrain, ‘I will yet hope, I shall again praise.’
With the Lord, there is a glorious end to every story. The Man of sorrows, well-acquainted with grief, was crucified and raised to set captives free, turn mourning to dancing, and assure the ultimate redeeming of all things. (Psalm 22:1; 30:11; Isaiah 53:3-11; Matthew 27:46)
What present pain do we bear? Loneliness, longing, fear of or shame from failure can cast down heart and soul. Would we openly, honestly lament to God, then choose to hope, not in changed circumstances, but in Him?
Father, may my every lament believe in hope and conclude with praise.
As the rain and snow 