Psalm 88

A Song. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah. To the choirmaster: according to Mahalath Leannoth. A Maskil of Heman the Ezrahite. 

1 O LORD, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before you.

2 Let my prayer come before you; incline your ear to my cry!

Thus begins the darkest of the psalms. The references to night, to death, and loneliness are abundant. The only hope in this psalm is the fact that the psalmist is praying. Against all evidence, he believes that YHWH exists and that He just might hear the prayer of a suffering man. YHWH is addressed as the “God of my salvation”, and this is the strongest note of hope in the psalm. It’s all downhill from here. The fact that Heman identifies YHWH as the God of his salvation suggests past experience. God has saved in the past. This is where hope is rooted, in the saving acts of God, and when confronted with grief and loss, it’s helpful to reflect on God’s past saving acts on our behalf. It is not all darkness and gloom. God has been there with us from the beginning if we will pause and recount the many times he has saved us. Because God is his salvation, his only source of hope, the psalmist cries out day and night, non-stop his plea comes before God’s ears. He cannot escape his circumstances. Whatever pain he is facing -- physical, emotional, psychological, social -- it is with him constantly, and so as a reflex, his prayer is constant as well. He hasn’t given up on praying, and this is a sign that there is still hope. Heman imagines God as a person, leaning in to listen carefully to his cries. With all of the things that God has to do in managing the universe, the psalmist has the faith to believe that the all-powerful God will stop and listen to his stuttering prayer, the words of pain that gush from his lips. I’ve never been in such a dark place that the psalmist is about to describe myself, but I know that one day I will. I pray that when I do, I have the faith of Heman, to pour out my heart day and night to the God of my salvation, to recount his many saving acts in my life and to express gratitude even in the midst of grief. 

3 For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol.

4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength,

5 like one set loose among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom you remember no more, for they are cut off from your hand.

In a series of metaphors the psalmist describes the state of his life and his soul. The deepest part of him is filled with troubles and he is close to death. This near death experience may have been an illness that was about to take him down or a deep depression and grief which left him without the will to live. Here are the metaphors that describe his condition: counted among those who go down to the pit (as good as dead), a man who has no strength, one is free to roam among the dead (zombie-like), one who has been murdered and is lying in the grave, one who is forgotten by God (and eventually by everyone else), and one is is cut off from God’s hand. It’s why this psalm is one of the darkest of them all. Because he doesn’t mention specific bodily pains, it’s a safe assumption that the psalmist’s pain here is primarily emotional and spiritual. Individuals who face depression can surely identify with his near-death status. He describes no living companion, no one to comfort him, only the fellow dead among whom he is roaming. Loneliness, apathy (no strength), darkness, inescapable troubles -- these are what the psalmist is facing as he cries out to the God of his salvation day and night. As the diagnosis of depression continues to rise in the West, particularly among young people, this psalm becomes increasingly relatable. Whether Heman is suffering from mental illness here or just deep grief from a traumatic loss, his words echo through the centuries and are the substance of countless prayers for relief from depression. Heman models the process of healing by beginning with an accounting of how he feels, telling someone about it honestly (albeit rather dramatically and metaphorically). It’s likely the same is true today. If you are experiencing these feelings, tell someone about it. It’s always good to start with telling God, but tell someone else as well to break the lie that you are alone. You are never alone.

6 You have put me in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep.

7 Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and you overwhelm me with all your waves. Selah

The psalmist moves from describing his situation in first person voice to speaking directly to God in second person voice. Three times in these two verses he declares that God is responsible for his suffering. He is practically in the grave, the depths of the pit, regions dark and deep. This is the result of God’s wrath coming down upon him. God’s just anger weighs him down. To add another metaphor, he is being pounded by waves. Massive waves of sadness and grief pressing down upon him to the point where he is immobile. Perhaps the psalmist did something that resulted in this kind of suffering. Our sin always has consequences, and this could be the deep sense of guilt that comes with doing something evil. It could be the weight of understanding the pain that he has caused others. For example, I’m thinking here of someone who has betrayed his marital vows and blown up his family. There is never complete healing for something so devastating, and in this moment he feels the weight of it all. Or perhaps the psalmist did nothing wrong at all and tragedy has simply come upon him as a happenstance of life. However, since God is sovereign, the psalmist doesn’t believe in happenstance. This happened as a result of God’s wrath. Whether the psalmist is guilty and receiving the just punishment for his crime or innocent and questioning why God would cause him to suffer, the reality is the same: a deep, immobilizing depression. He is in a deep and dark place, overwhelmed and unable to rise. The metaphor of waves occurs in Psalm 42:7 as well -- “Deep calls out to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have gone over me.” What the psalmist is experiencing is thoroughly human. Everyone who loves will experience this kind of pain when sickness and death strike. The deeper the love, the greater the pain and loss. Everyone who lives will experience deep loss and disappointment at dreams that are unrealized and love that is not requited. There are a million reasons that we experience pain, but ultimately it is God who allows it, and in fact, wields it like a surgeon with a scalpel. We long for anesthesia to numb the pain, but only time and faith will heal.

8 You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a horror [an abomination] to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape;

9 my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call upon you, O LORD; I spread out my hands to you.

The psalmist continues his accusation against God in verse 8, even though what he is experiencing may have been the result of his own bad choices. He describes the social effects of his condition. Those who know him have shunned him. He is a pariah. He has been ghosted. No one calls or stops by. They don’t know what to say or perhaps they are so disgusted with him that they are afraid of what they will say and they’d rather not say it to his face when they can simply talk about it behind his back. Because he has no social life, he remains shut in his house. It’s easier to stay there in isolation than to go out and face the constant shunning that he will experience. People will avoid eye contact, friends will see him and look away; they’ll change their direction so as not to run into him. The psalmist is utterly alone inside and outside his house. As a result his eyes grow dim with sorrow. He is tired of weeping and cannot generate tears. He sleeps all the time, after all what reason is there to get out of bed? In his waking moments he calls out to YHWH. He spreads out his hands to God, on his knees, on his face, reaching for the only One who can change his circumstances. When we are grieving it is a common experience to have people, even friends, avoid us. They don’t know what to say, they don’t want to be uncomfortable, and even at a gut level, they don’t want to be reminded that the same thing could happen to them. There can even be survivor’s guilt (“Why didn’t this happen to me?” Or “it should have happened to me.”) If you know someone who is grieving, this psalm should serve as a reminder that they need your presence more than ever. Even if you don’t know what to say, at least be like the friends of Job who sat in silence with him for seven days. Give them a call, stop by to see them, bring them a gift, send a text or message that you are thinking of them and praying for them. Someday you will be in the same situation and you will need a friend. Friendless and lonely, shut in and sleeping all the time -- this is no way to live, and yet many do. See them and pastor them through the valley of darkness. 

10 Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise you? Selah

11 Is your steadfast love declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon?

12 Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?

This series of questions is meant to motivate God to act. As the psalmist stretches out his hands and calls on the LORD every day, this is the content of his prayer, bargaining with him, attempting to convince Him to act. His point is simple, “If I die, I cannot praise you. If I live, I can praise you. I’ll have a testimony of your steadfast love, faithfulness, and righteousness. So don’t let me die.” Inherent in this prayer is a promise, “If I recover, I’m yours 100%. I’ll worship you and tell everyone I know of your deliverance.” This text also gives us a glimpse into the psalmist’s understanding of death. It is a place where one lies down forever. Abaddon is the place of destruction, where the body decays until nothing is left -- first the flesh then the bone, all turns back to dust. Death is also a place of darkness, the great unknown, and the land of forgetfulness -- eventually, everyone who dies is forgotten. Look at any cemetery and you will see hundreds of names of people that are completely forgotten. No one alive has any personal recollection of them, an entire life of memories completely erased. We are not made for this. As CS Lewis said, “You have never met a mere mortal.” We are immortal beings, and to think that a lifetime would be forgotten and meaningless is truly heartbreaking. I don’t know how the atheist deals with this reality, the utter meaninglessness of it all. Without God, without hope, death is simply the end of everything. It is the bed you lie down on and never get up. It is the place of destruction where the body rots until it is no more. It is the realm of darkness, nothing is known or can be known. It is the land of forgetfulness, eventually even the memory of a person is lost in the passage of time. In the face of that all but certain future, the psalmist declares that if he is spared and granted a few more years of life he will dedicate those years to the praise of God’s glory. All of the things that God is known for -- his faithfulness, steadfast love, and righteousness/justice -- these he will enthusiastically proclaim to all, whether they will listen or not. I will be completely forgotten in a few generations. That sobering thought should motivate me to make much of this life by living 100% for God, telling everyone I can of his wonders. 

13 But I, O LORD, cry to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you.

14 O LORD, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?

It’s notable that the psalmist uses the divine name here, even as he accuses the covenant God YHWH of abandoning him. Psalm 22, another lament of abandonment begins, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani -- My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”, employing the more generic name for God, suggesting distance. But here the psalmist effectively addresses God with his first name, his covenant name, the I AM who was, who is, and is to come, the ever-existing always present one. This makes the accusation even more painful. How could YHWH hide his face from his child in need? How could YHWH toss away his soul like a bag of trash? It’s how we feel when something tragic happens to us. It’s a human response to pain: blame the one who has ultimate power. That’s the truth. God has the power to stop anything and everything bad from happening. He created the universe by speaking words, surely he can speak and undo all the bad things. The psalmist has already declared that he has been abandoned by friends, and now that feeling of abandonment extends to YHWH, his covenant God. He cries out as soon as he wakes up. Perhaps sleep is the only time he gets to rest from his tears. Maybe that contributes to him being shut in, sleeping his days away to avoid being awake and the consequent anguish. Of course the reality is that YHWH has not abandoned him, just as he had not abandoned David in Psalm 22. He is, in fact, with us in our sufferings in a most profound way. The unlimited God enters into our pain, into our time and space, and weeps with us, grieves with us, and carries both us and our pain through these seasons. The feeling of absence is normal, but it is not real. Believe his promises, look to Jesus and know that God has heard your cry and is with you in the darkness. 

15 Afflicted and close to death from my youth up, I suffer your terrors; I am helpless. [The meaning of the Hebrew word is uncertain]

16 Your wrath has swept over me; your dreadful assaults destroy me.

17 They surround me like a flood all day long; they close in on me together.

The psalmist’s pain is so deep and pervasive that he can’t even remember what it was like to feel normal. He has suffered so long that he has no recollection of a life without pain. He has felt this way from his youth. He is constantly anxious and fearful. The word translated here as “helpless” is rare and may mean “distracted” or “distraught”. He is in a place of confusion and despair. He once again attributes this to God’s wrath pounding him hard, like a wave or a flood of water. Employing a military metaphor he speaks of God’s dreadful assaults destroying him. These assaults are like a flood surrounding him all day long, the waters rising beyond control until they close in on him. It is a feeling of utter helplessness and a dread of certain death. This language is found elsewhere in the psalm as the psalmist repeatedly describes his condition to a God whom he feels has abandoned him. It is a desperate cry for help, and there is no tidy answer to his prayer. The psalm will not end with a “but God”. It does not conclude with a “Yet I will trust in him”. It is somewhat unique in that regard, the only lament that doesn’t include an explicit element of trust. We are left to wonder if the psalmist’s prayer was ever answered. Did the floodwaters of grief rise and overwhelm him? Did he find relief from his pain in the grave? Or did God swoop in and save him dramatically? The story is not complete. This is good news for those in the midst of suffering. The story is not over. God is still writing it even though we’re stuck in chapter 2. There’s much more to come that no one can even begin to imagine. This is the hope that the New Testament offers. Because of Jesus’ victory over death, we are promised the same. “No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). “Let not your heart be troubled...I go to prepare a place for you that where I am you may also be” (John 14:1-3). Even if the flood waters take us in this life, we will be swept into a far better place. Jesus encouraged the disciples and Paul the early church with these words in their darkest hour. It is one of God’s answers to the psalmist’s dark night of the soul. 

18 You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness. [darkness has become my only companion]

Returning to an earlier theme, the psalmist tells YHWH that he is utterly alone. The last people whom you think would abandon you are your family and friends, but even they are nowhere to be found. “My beloved” may refer to a spouse or immediate family, and for whatever reason, even those who are the closest have left the building for good. The only companion that the psalmist has left is darkness, and this is the final word of the psalm. This is the prayer of a man on his deathbed. In his final moments, family and friends are by his side, but in death he is alone. They cannot accompany him on the next part of his journey. It is the great unknown, the place from which no one returns to tell their story. And so the psalmist passes from life into death, from light into darkness. This is a universal human experience. Some will pass into death alone and others surrounded by friends and family. In the end it doesn’t make much difference to the deceased. One day unknown to me, I will pass from this life. I will make that journey. I firmly believe that how I make that journey is connected to how I’ve lived in the life that God has given me. Have I been faithful to Him, faithful to my family, faithful to the church, and faithful to the world that God has called me to serve? I know I will not be perfect, but by the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, I just want to be faithful to them all. And because of the grace of God, I can be confident that when my eyes close for the last time they will open again to see the face of Jesus. I will not be alone and I will not be in darkness. My pain and my terrors will be replaced with perfect peace.