Written for You and Me

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

July 20, 2014

Written for You and Me

Psalm 130:1-6

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.

Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive

to the voice of my supplications!

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

Lord, who could stand?

But there is forgiveness with you,

so that you may be revered.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

and in his word I hope;

my soul waits for the Lord

more than those who watch for the morning,

more than those who watch for the morning.

Who was this person who cried out with such anguish,

such pain?

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.
Lord, hear my voice!

A man, or perhaps a woman, in such searing pain,

crying out to God,

crying out not even to heal him

or resolve the problem,

but simply to hear:

Lord hear my voice,

Let your ears be attentive to

the voice of my supplications!

The words are chilling –

a person so desperate just to know

that God is there hearing him,

that the speaker is not alone,

that God has not turned from him,

that God is listening,

God is hearing,

that God is with him in his pain and anguish.

Out of the depths the person cries to God,

the waters real or metaphorical

rising around him,

cold, hostile waters swirling all around him,

rising up and dragging him down,

water at his waist, his neck, his chin.

Who was this person,

this pitiable person?

The psalm itself doesn’t make it clear.

                          

For centuries we attributed the psalms to David

and his son Solomon,

but we know better now:

Some of the psalms may indeed

have been written by David,

some by Solomon,

but many, perhaps even most,

were written by voices lost to history.

And that’s what makes the psalms ours –

yours and mine,

prayers we can make our own,

voices that can become our own.

You and I can take a psalm and lift up the words,

as words of our own prayer,

when frustration, anguish, loneliness,

hopelessness steal away our own voices.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.

Lord, hear my voice!

This psalm, other psalms,

may have been written by a particular person

in a particular time,

in a particular place,

for a particular situation,

but they are words that fit our own situations,

our own times,

our own places. 

The frustration of a young person,

fresh out of college,

trying to get a foot in the door

only to be told time and time again,

“we’re looking for someone with experience.”

                          

The fear of a person of any age

hearing a doctor’s words,

“I don’t like the looks of this.

I think we should run a few more tests.”

The pain of a man, the pain of a woman

listening to a partner tell them,

“I no longer love you.

I’ve found someone else.

I’m leaving you.”

The anguish of a 50-something man or woman

knowing that come next Friday

their employer will say many things,

many words,

all to hide two words, “you’re fired”.

The despair of person looking after aging parents,

wanting to care for them with love, tenderness and grace,

yet exhausted by the effort.

The agony of person bleeding from

the wound of betrayal

by the one person they were sure they could trust.

The psalms speak time and time again to these emotions,

emotions we all have felt,

all will feel;

For life, even with all its joy and love,

can also be filled with deep pain and profound despair.

O Lord, God of my salvation,

when, at night, I cry out in your presence,

let my prayer come before you;

incline your ear to my cry

…Every day I call on you, O Lord;

I spread out my hands to you.

..,in the morning my prayer comes before you.
O Lord, why do you cast me off?

Why do you hide your face from me?

(Psalm 88)

…wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me,

speaking against me with lying tongues.
They beset me with words of hate,

and attack me without cause.
In return for my love they accuse me,

even while I make prayer for them.
So they reward me evil for good,

and hatred for my love.

(Psalm 109:2-5)

These words, so bleak, so forlorn,

express feelings we know,

perhaps know all too well.

They are words written by someone

we will never know,

yet they are words written for you,

words written for me,

written to give us voice in our pain,

to remind us that God does not expect us

to suffer in silence.

God helps us cry out, cry out to him.

God gives us words to help us through,

to help us through the darkness

that can often seem to overwhelm.

God gives us to words to remind us

that we never suffer, never struggle alone.

Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good;

according to your abundant mercy, turn to me.
Do not hide your face from your servant,

for I am in distress—make haste to answer me.

Draw near to me, redeem me,

set me free…

(Psalm 69:13)

The psalmist prays with hope,

even when life all but consumes him.

We pray with hope, too,

even when life all but consumes us:

The Lord is my shepherd –

MY shepherd

I shall not want –

I shall not want!

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;

he leads me beside still waters;

he restores my soul….

He restores MY soul.

It doesn’t matter if I walk through

the darkest valley;

even if the very shadow of death looms over me,

I know I have nothing to fear,

…nothing to fear

for YOU my God are with ME…

with me. 

(Psalm 23)

Read Matthew’s or Mark’s recounting of

Jesus’ death on the cross,

and they tell us that Jesus’ final words

were words of anguish and despair:

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

(Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34)

Hearing these words

it sounds like our Lord cried out

not from the physical pain he surely must have felt

but from the deep, burning pain of

utter abandonment,

abandonment by his own father.

But could it be that

Jesus spoke those words purposefully,

intentionally,

to remind us that even in the valley

of the shadow of death,

God is there,

God does not forsake,

God does not abandon.

Jesus’ words were words from the psalmist,

words Jesus surely knew well,

words Jesus knew spoke of pain and abandonment,

but words Jesus also surely knew

spoke of hope and reassurance;

words Jesus made his own

even if he didn’t speak them

 on that awful hill called Golgotha:

“You who fear the Lord, praise him!

All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him;

stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!
For he did not despise or abhor

the affliction of the afflicted;

he did not hide his face from me,

but heard when I cried to him….”

He heard when I cried to him.

(Psalm 22:21-24)

As surely as resurrection follows crucifixion,

peace will follow anguish,

comfort will follow pain,

joy will follow sorrow.

“To the Lord I cry aloud,

and he answers me from his holy hill.

I lie down and sleep;

I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.”

(Psalm 3:4-5)

“I called on your name, O Lord,

from the depths of the pit;

you heard my plea, …

You came near when I called on you;

you said, ‘Do not fear!’

You have taken up my cause, O Lord,

you have redeemed my life.”

(Lamentations 3:55)

Our “faith in God must be as boundless as God himself.”

(E. Wiesel)

Only then can we trust, only then can we hope,

only then can we get through darkened days,

through things that can threaten to reduce

our faith, our life,

to dust and ashes.

Let the words of the psalmist become your words.

Read them, speak them,

sing them, pray them,

again and again and again:

“I give thanks to you, O Lord my God,

with my whole heart,

and I will glorify your name forever.

For great is your steadfast love towards me;

you have delivered my soul from the depths…”

(Psalm 86)

Surely, goodness and mercy

will follow you,

follow me,

all the days of our lives,

and we shall dwell in the house of the Lord

forever and ever.

AMEN