We’ve Had Our Fill of the Arrogant (Psalm 123)

I look up toward you,
the one enthroned in heaven.
Look, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a female servant look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes will look to the Lord, our God, until he shows us favor.
Show us favor, O Lord, show us favor!
For we have had our fill of humiliation, and then some.
We have had our fill
of the taunts of the self-assured,
of the contempt of the proud. (New English Translation)

The patriarch of the Hebrews, Abraham, lived 4,000 years ago. Moses, the lawgiver and leader of the Israelites out of Egyptian slavery, lived 3,500 years ago. By the time the psalmist wrote today’s psalm, there had already been at least between 1,000 and 1,500 years of Jewish history. And, from the point the psalm was written until now, nearly 3,000 years of history have come to pass.

For all these millennia, the Jewish people have had to endure the contempt and hatred of all kinds of non-Jewish groups and nations. Their suffering has been continual and constant. They have endured multiple attempts of others trying to rid the earth of them. Jews have been mercilessly mocked, violently beaten, religiously persecuted, arrogantly humiliated, callously abused, and perennially shamed, just for being Jews.

The Jewish people know about generational trauma and suffering. They’ve experienced endless heartache and soul damage. And yet, the Jews are still here. They survive, despite so many intentions to wipe them off the map. There are few people groups that can say they still exist after 4,000 years of history.

I submit to you that one of the many reasons the Jewish people have survived, even thrived, for so long is that they have a rich heritage of Hebrew poetry and working out their emotions and their musings before God – and put it down on paper.

The Jewish people acknowledge their emotional and spiritual pain to God, lament it before God, and trust in God to handle their oppressors.

For the one who remains silent, and never sets pen to paper, will fade away and be forgotten. But the one who brings their shame to the light, and contends with the Lord about their suffering, shall see generation after generation continuing to struggle onward and upward.

Trusting God

The controlling image of today’s psalm has to do with the eyes looking. The psalmist looks up to heaven where God is enthroned as Creator and Sovereign over all the earth. Specifically, the eyes look toward the throne room of God.

Underlying the trust and faith of the people is the confession that God is the rightful and powerful Ruler of all. Just as servants look to their masters for provision, so the praying community of people looks to God for their every need – whether it be physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual.

Ultimately, this community looks for a sign of God’s inexhaustible and divine mercy. The worshiper prays, sings, and looks longingly with eyes wide open to the heavens. They look up in confident anticipation, searching for hope and a glimpse of divine mercy.

Here you will not find any sort of rugged individualism, prideful struggling alone, or refusals to ask for help. No! There is a refreshing realism and vulnerability of knowing who you are, where you are, and what you need – without any apology.

Complaining to God

The community of worshipers repeated their heartfelt and strong prayer for mercy from God. The people were facing a relentless stream of contempt from others, and they had more than enough of receiving this.

Those who mocked the Jews are identified as the proud and arrogant. In contrast to the worshipers, the mockers do not look up to the heavenly king, but instead look down on those different from themselves.

The arrogant look only to themselves, not to any master, and certainly not to the sovereign King of the universe. But the followers of the Lord look to their God for mercy because its absent from their experience of being and living on this earth.

Conclusion

The psalm begins with an affirmation of trust, and then, moves to the people’s plea for help from the God whom they place their trust and faith. This psalm was not only befitting of the ancient crisis of Israel’s exile to Babylon and all that happened afterwards in history; the psalm befits us today, as well.

Today, the Jewish people, along with many other religious communities around the world, are experiencing genocidal behavior from mockers who detest them and want to be rid of them altogether.

For all of us who seek the Lord and desire to truly live a pious and penitent life, our eyes look to the divine king for hope. In the midst of oppression by arrogant mockers who operate out of autonomy and independence from the God of mercy, we lift our eyes to the heavens and search God’s heavenly throne room for a glimpse of hope.

In every age – whether ancient, medieval, or modern – the faithful have always needed each other in the community. We have always had to embrace an interdependent dynamic of relating to one another, rather than operate as a mere collection of individuals who happen to be in the same place at the same time.

The faithful understand that life is not something they have earned or made, but is a gift from the Creator and Sovereign who is enthroned in the heavens. And without this perspective, we will continue to see hateful groups of people try to annihilate those different from themselves.

Merciful and loving God, when we are overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty, undermined by the distress of mockery, please love us and grant us patience under suffering.

Help us to love others as you love us; to accept others without judgment; to see difference as your gift of creation; and to remember that love is our greatest calling.

Generous God, you give freely of your love and mercy and grace. Prompt us to share our blessings and respond to the cries of the world.

Encourage us to help those facing the pain of discrimination and prejudice. May they experience healing of both body and soul.

Nurture us in faith, so that we will reach those in need, both near and far.

Inspire us to love all your children equally, without exception; and let us give and receive love, through the One whose name is Love, Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord. Amen.

Pay Attention to Grief (Genesis 49:29-50:14)

The Death of Jacob, by Rembrandt, c.1640

Jacob told his sons:

Soon I will die, and I want you to bury me in Machpelah Cave. Abraham bought this cave as a burial place from Ephron the Hittite, and it is near the town of Mamre in Canaan. Abraham and Sarah are buried there, and so are Isaac and Rebekah. I buried Leah there too. Both the cave and the land that goes with it were bought from the Hittites.

When Jacob had finished giving these instructions to his sons, he lay down on his bed and died. Joseph started crying, then leaned over to hug and kiss his father.

Joseph gave orders for Jacob’s body to be embalmed, and it took the usual 40 days.

The Egyptians mourned 70 days for Jacob. When the time of mourning was over, Joseph said to the Egyptian leaders, “If you consider me your friend, please speak to the king for me. Just before my father died, he made me promise to bury him in his burial cave in Canaan. If the king will give me permission to go, I will come back here.”

The king answered, “Go to Canaan and keep your promise to your father.”

When Joseph left Goshen with his brothers, his relatives, and his father’s relatives to bury Jacob, many of the king’s highest officials and even his military chariots and cavalry went along. The Israelites left behind only their children, their cattle, and their sheep and goats.

After crossing the Jordan River, Joseph stopped at Atad’s threshing place, where they all mourned and wept seven days for Jacob. The Canaanites saw this and said, “The Egyptians are in great sorrow.” Then they named the place “Egypt in Sorrow.”

So Jacob’s sons did just as their father had instructed. They took him to Mamre in Canaan and buried him in Machpelah Cave, the burial place Abraham had bought from Ephron the Hittite.

After the funeral, Joseph, his brothers, and everyone else returned to Egypt. (Contemporary English Version)

117 days. That’s how long Jacob’s family, along with the people of Egypt, mourned for him after his death. Yes, he was a patriarch. And yes, Joseph was the administrator of an entire nation. Yet this was not unusual behavior; it was normal.

When my mother-in-law was tragically and suddenly killed in a car accident, 30 years ago, I could not take any bereavement time off, because according to company policy, it was not my mother. So, since she lived a thousand miles from us, I had to use vacation time and take a week away. Then, when I returned to work, I was expected to pick up where I left off, as if nothing had happened.

Although I work under better conditions today, and workplaces are getting better at acknowledging the importance of tragic events in the life of employees, we still have a long way to go in dealing with grief, bereavement, mourning, and lament.

The modern funeral industry is a rather recent phenomenon in history. Beginning with, and then following, the American Civil War, death was a prominent specter, affecting every community and nearly every home. People like my second great grandfather became part of a growing business of handling the dead and providing services for grieving families. He became a coffin maker and a chief supplier for the burgeoning funeral parlor (which later morphed into a furniture business which lasted a hundred years).

Even though families needed help after a devastating war, over time, the unintended effect is that we became detached from death. Others could handle bodies and arrangements. We could choose to see or not see the dead. Folks began losing the ability to grieve and mourn their changes in life.

Grief doesn’t just go away with time. If it isn’t acknowledged, faced, accepted, and dealt with, it slowly begins to sit in the soul and rot. Eventually, it becomes spiritual gangrene; the person becomes bitter, without joy and stuck in unwanted emotions.

The point of all this is that grief and bereavement strikes us all; none of us gets off planet earth without having to deal with the loss of significant people in our lives. And when it happens, it’s imperative that individuals and societal structures allow for the time and space to mourn.

The ancients were on to something which we need to recover. They discerned the importance of allowing grief to run it’s course, instead of us trying to master grief, get over it, and move on. Grief will be dealt with when it is dealt with. Trying to tame it is like attempting to bench press 700 pounds; it’s only going to crush you if you try controlling it.

I’m not agitating for a 117 span of days for everyone’s mourning. But I am insisting that we have conversations about grief and confront it, rather than ignore it. Because grieving doesn’t mean you’re imperfect; it means you’re human.

The way we move through our grief is by telling our story – which requires someone to listen. That only happens if we have created the space for it to occur. Expectations of moving-on will leave grief where it is, poisoning us from the inside-out.

The only way to the mountain is through the valley. The only way to make the pain go away is to move through it – not by avoiding it, pretending it’s not there, or trying to go around it. Pain and suffering are inevitable; misery is optional. And letting bereavement and grief have it’s way for a while is the path away from the misery.

You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. And that’s a good thing. It gives us the ability and empathy to extend blessing to others who will eventually face their own terrible loss. They will need someone to listen. And you will be there for them.

Lord, do not abandon us in our desolation. Keep us safe in the midst of trouble, and complete your purpose for us through your steadfast love and faithfulness, in Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

How Long, O Lord? (Psalm 13)

No Immediate Relief, by Melani Pyke

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul
    and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, “I have prevailed”;
    my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

But I trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord
    because he has dealt bountifully with me. (New Revised Standard Version)

Faith is more than the mind’s affirmation of theological beliefs. Faith is also visceral, an expression from deep in the gut about what is going on around us. For faith to be truly faith, it needs to hold the whole person, not merely the brain.

Today’s psalm is the reaction of a person of faith to God when the world as they knew it was crumbling and broken. This is a psalm of lament which moves and deepens the faith of the worshiper. When the world around us changes and all seems horribly awry, we understandably become disoriented – we lose our normal bearings and feel confused and lost.

One of the simplest observations we can make about this psalm, along with all psalms of lament, is that, whether the content is ethically pure or not, the words of the psalmist directed toward God reflect the pain and agony of people in the middle of world-shattering circumstances.

In such dire situations, there are no simplistic answers or easy diagnoses of problems. Complicated layers of grief exist, and mere cerebral responses will always fall short of adequately being in the present moment, sitting with emotions, and getting in touch with the gut.

I am leery of folks who quickly affirm trust in God when a terrible event has just occurred. Bypassing the gut and the heart cannot bring a whole person response to that event and will inevitably result in a cheap faith which cannot support the immensity of the situation.

Even worse, it leads to a bootstrap theology where people are expected to pull themselves up in a free-willpower way that is impossible to achieve. Sometimes failure of faith comes not because of a person’s weakness, but because the faith being espoused is not faith, at all.

Biblical faith expresses weakness, need, help, curiosity, and doubt with a healthy dose of emotional flavor and visceral reaction.

If we had just one psalm of lament as an example, that would be enough. Yet, in fact, we have dozens of them, with more sprinkled throughout the entirety of Holy Scripture. We even have a book of the Bible given completely to lamenting a loss, Lamentations, which is a deep reflection of the prophet Jeremiah’s grief.

So, let us now be honest with ourselves and each other. All of us, at one time or another, have given a cry of “How long, O Lord!”

There are times when our prayers seem unheard and unnoticed, as if they only bounce off the ceiling and fall flat. There are hard circumstances which continue to move along unabated with evil seeming to mock us. We long for divine intervention, we long for deliverance, we long for healing – and when it does not come our disappointment and frustration boils over into an unmitigated cry of wondering where God is in all the thick crud.

Whenever a person and/or a group of people are traumatized, not once but over-and-over again, how can we not cry aloud, “How long, O Lord!?”

When despair settles in the spirit, disappointment seeps in the soul, and depression becomes our daily bread, how can we not muster up the voice that yells, “How long, O Lord!?”

Wherever powerful people cause the lives of others to be downtrodden and despised, how can we not scream, “How long, O Lord!?”

When the covert actions of others demean and denigrate, leaving us with private pain which no one sees, how can we not bring forth the words, “How long, O Lord!?”

If you have never uttered this kind of wondering about God, then perhaps a profound disconnect with your own spirit exists. A full-orbed faith names the awful events and situations and sits with the feelings surrounding those events with God.

Psalm 13 is important because it gives us words when the bottom falls out of our lives and everything is upside-down.

This psalm helps us admit that life is not as well-ordered as a simple Sunday School faith may pretend. The psalm acknowledges that life is terribly messy, and the psalmist protests to heaven that this quagmire of injustice is plain unfair. What’s more, this psalm helps move the sufferer to a new place.

God is big enough to handle everything we throw at him — our pain, our anger, our questions, our doubts. Genuine biblical faith is comfortable challenging God. And God is there, listening, even if we cannot perceive it. Just because we might need to endure adversity does not mean there is something wrong with us, or God.

We likely will not get an answer to our “how long?” We will get something else: mercy. Mercy is compassion shown to another when it is within one’s power to punish. If we widen our horizon a bit, we will observe a God who cares:

“The Lord isn’t slow to keep his promise, as some think of slowness, but he is patient toward you, not wanting anyone to perish but all to change their hearts and lives.” (2 Peter 3:9, CEB)

The only thing better than the joy of personal salvation is the joy of many people’s deliverance and collective emancipation. Patience, perseverance, and endurance through hardship will require expressions of faith with words of affirmation along with words of agony. And the psalms help us with both.

Lord God Almighty, I pray for the forgotten and the unseen – the stranger, the outcast, the poor and homeless – may they be remembered and seen by you.

Merciful God, I pray for those who struggle with mental illness, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation – may there be resources to help, enough staff employed, and finances given, toward mental health services. May there be basic human kindness available for the hurting.

Compassionate God, I pray for those who wrestle with sorrow – may they know your comfort within the dark thoughts which currently seem to triumph.

Attentive Lord, I pray for the crestfallen and the ones considered fallen by those around them – may they receive your restoration and reconciling grace. Protect them from judgment and shield them with your mercy.

Lord of all creation, I trust in your steadfast love and rely upon your infinite grace. May our tears turn to songs of joy, to the glory of Jesus Christ. Amen.

A Word of Faith (Genesis 15:1-20)

After this, the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision:

“Do not be afraid, Abram.
    I am your shield,
    your very great reward.”

But Abram said, “Sovereign Lord, what can you give me since I remain childless and the one who will inherit my estate is Eliezer of Damascus?” And Abram said, “You have given me no children; so a servant in my household will be my heir.”

Then the word of the Lord came to him: “This man will not be your heir, but a son who is your own flesh and blood will be your heir.” He took him outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.”

Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.

He also said to him, “I am the Lord, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to take possession of it.”

But Abram said, “Sovereign Lord, how can I know that I will gain possession of it?”

So the Lord said to him, “Bring me a heifer, a goat and a ram, each three years old, along with a dove and a young pigeon.”

Abram brought all these to him, cut them in two and arranged the halves opposite each other; the birds, however, he did not cut them in half. Then birds of prey came down on the carcasses, but Abram drove them away.

As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him. Then the Lord said to him, “Know for certain that for four hundred years your descendants will be strangers in a country not their own and that they will be enslaved and mistreated there. But I will punish the nation they serve as slaves, and afterward they will come out with great possessions. You, however, will go to your ancestors in peace and be buried at a good old age. In the fourth generation your descendants will come back here, for the sin of the Amorites has not yet reached its full measure.”

When the sun had set and darkness had fallen, a smoking firepot with a blazing torch appeared and passed between the pieces. On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram and said, “To your descendants I give this land, from the Wadi of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates—the land of the Kenites, Kenizzites, Kadmonites, Hittites, Perizzites, Rephaites, (New International Version)

Abrahamic Covenant II, by Wayne Forte, 2007

A Word about Abram and Sarai

We meet Abram and Sarai (later to be known as Abraham and Sarah) as a non-descript couple from a place called Ur of the Chaldees, a few chapters earlier in the opening biblical book of Genesis. It’s noted that Sarai is barren, or childless. (Genesis 11:30)

The Lord decided to choose a people for God’s own name, a singular people to become a kingdom of priest and a holy nation. The idea was that God would bless all the other nations through this one nation.

So, in what becomes something of a divine pattern, God chooses a most unlikely couple (old and childless) to become father and mother of this new nation to bless all other nations on earth. The Lord called them from their country of origin to leave and go to a new place. (Genesis 12:1-3)

Lo and behold, Abram and Sarai did just that. They left all they ever knew and journeyed to the new land, believing the promise of God, even though it didn’t make much sense. And there, they waited for a child, who would become the first of their many descendants, the child of promise.

And they waited. Time passed. They made a few sojourns into Egypt and back. But still no child. More time went by. Abram and Sarai were old when they came to the new land. Now, they’re really old! And still, no child. Then, finally, the Lord broke the silence.

The Word of the Lord

God’s initial words after all this time were, “Don’t be afraid.” We discover that anytime we hear that phrase spoken by the Lord, something good is about to happen. In fact, it’s great news.

But Abram seems discouraged, even with a fresh heart-to-heart with God. He and Sarai are still without a child. Instead of joy over God’s speech, Abram laments the ache of childlessness. Even though, by this time, Abram was wealthy, prosperous, and of good reputation, he feels the sting of a promise yet unfulfilled. God has still not granted him progeny for blessing the world.

A Word of Lament

Lament is, at its core, a complaint – an expression of grief in losing something or someone, or as in Abram’s case, of never having that something or someone to begin with.

It’s actually important for us to essentially make our problems into God’s problems. To tell God about our deepest hurts and unmet hopes is to implicate God in those hurts and hopes. It is to involve God in our disappointment.

In lament, we cry out to God in the belief that the Lord can and will respond to our painful cries and our deep desires. We believe God has the power and ability to respond. To complain to God is to have faith that God is faithful to divine promises—in spite of any nonsensical present circumstances.

Concerning matters about which God has made a promise, to complain is to remind the Lord of those unmet promises. In his lament, Abram was implying that God had not kept the promise, and had not yet proven faithful.

A Word of Response

Far from feeling perturbed that Abram laments instead of rejoices, God, in fact, responds by doubling-down on the original promise. Not only will there be a child, but that child’s descendants will be too many to even begin counting.

The Lord invited Abram to move his head from looking down at the bare ground to looking up at the magnificent stars. And in gazing upon the heavens, listening to the God whom he serves, Abram believed the Lord. And it was this faith which was credited to him as righteousness.

God is okay with being implicated in our problems. In fact, God welcomes it. Our deep grief, and our prayerful complaints, are a way of speaking which reminds God that God has promised to be faithful to divine promises. God doesn’t at all mind being held accountable to promises made.

Then, the Lord further responds by making a tangible expression of the intangible promise by means of a special sacrifice. God instructed Abram to involve some animal sacrifices and arrange them a certain way. When the sun had gone down and it was dark, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the arranged pieces of the sacrifice.

A Covenant Word

On that day, through a ritual observance, God made a covenant with Abram.

To make a covenant in the ancient world, animals were cut in half, and then the persons making the covenantal commitment walked down the middle between the animals.

In Abram’s ritual, however, it was the Lord—in the form of a smoking pot and a flaming torch—who passed down the middle and thus was the one making the promise.

The symbolism of the covenant ritual is this: The one making the promise passes between dead animals as a ritual promise that, if they should be unfaithful to the terms of the covenant, they are to be cut in half just as the sacrificed animal.

In other words, when the Lord passed between the cleaved goat, sheep, ram and birds, God was pledging complete commitment to Abram.

A New Covenant Word

In Christianity, the gospel is a free promise by God that requires the death of God. The promise of God to Abram, Christians believe, ultimately led to the very death of the Son of God, Jesus.

In order to be faithful to the divine promise, to Abraham and Sarah and their descendants, and to David, God took on human flesh, walked between the pieces, and died so that we might have life.

Therefore, the promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all Abraham’s offspring—not only to those who are of the law but also to those who have the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all. As it is written: “I have made you a father of many nations.” He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not. (Romans 4:16-17, NIV)

Amen.