God, Where Are You?

The book of Psalms appears right in the middle of our Bible. And yet, most Christians don’t quite know what to do with it. It’s something of a mystery to us.

The book of Psalms contains some of the most uplifting passages in all of Scripture— “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”. But it also contains many dark and troubling passages—such as Psalm 10: “Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?”

Indeed, some scholars say that over half of the Psalms are “downers”—they express sentiments of pain and confusion; a strong sense of frustration with life in general and with God in particular.

Now the way that most Christians deal with those “downer” Psalms is to ignore them completely. We’re not comfortable with their “dark” tone—they don’t fit in with our ideas of the victorious Christian life. So we tend to page right past them in search of our favorite few. We stick to the uplifting Psalms and ignore the rest.

But that leaves us with the nagging question: Why are they there? If we believe that God put the Bible together for our benefit, what purpose could God have had in mind by including those Psalms in the Bible? (By the way, that’s a relevant question for a lot of other parts of the Bible!)

To begin to answer that question, it helps to remember that the book of Psalms is a book of poetry. I don’t know how many of you are into poetry. I confess that I am not a great poetry reader myself.

But I do understand that poetry is a unique kind of writing that does more than simply convey information. It conveys feelings, emotions, mood. Poetry has the ability to communicate on a deeper level than just the cognitive. So when you read poetry you are supposed to engage in more than just an intellectual exercise. The poet invites us to enter into the experience with our whole being, our mind, our heart, and our emotions.

Now when we come to the Psalms, we’re reading that kind of writing. It’s poetry. And it’s more than just poetry—the Psalms are a collection of the personal spiritual journals of many people. Author Philip Yancey puts it this way:

“The Psalms are personal prayers in the form of poetry, written by a variety of people—peasants, kings, professional musicians, rank amateurs—in wildly fluctuating moods. We must read them as “over the shoulder” readers, since the intended audience for the Psalms is not us, but God.”

Many of the Psalms were written by David. What do we know about David? We know that he was a man after God’s own heart—he was a man who hungered and thirsted after God with his whole being. He desired, more than anything, to know God.

And yet, for all of that, he was a very imperfect man. David had blood on his hands. He had a man murdered so that he could have his wife. David had a dysfunctional family. One of his sons raped one of his daughters. Another son rebelled against him and tried to overthrow him. David spent most of his life embroiled in Middle Eastern wars and the messy intrigues of Israeli politics.

But the one thing he really had going for him was his honesty. David was a man who was honest with God. He was a man who was not afraid to be transparent before God.

So when we read the prayers that David prayed to God, we shouldn’t expect them to be antiseptic. We shouldn’t expect them to sound like the prayers we often hear prayed in church—full of flowery phrases and fine sentiments.

When David prays, he brings to God the raw and honest emotions of what he is feeling and what he is dealing with in real life. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, real life tends to be messy and disorderly. It’s bewildering and frustrating and often painful. Above all, it’s complicated!

(Someone has said that we experience life as though we had come in twenty minutes late to a movie. We’re seeing the action on the screen, and we’re able to pick up bits and pieces of the plot, but, for the most part, we’re in the dark as to what’s really going on.)

One of the greatest illusions that we chase as Christians, and one of the unspoken implications of a lot of Christian teaching here in North America, is that somehow—if we just apply the biblical principles properly—life will line up neatly and orderly, with everything in its place, and we will enjoy a comfortable lifestyle with an absence of pain. But life doesn’t work like that! Life is often chaotic, life is often painful, many things happen to us that we simply don’t understand.

And there are going to be times when we feel like crying out to God “Where are you? I thought you were supposed to be in control! Why is this happening to me? Please make it stop hurting! God, please do something!” And that’s exactly what many of those dark Psalms are saying.

Over the next few weeks of the summer, we’re going to look at some of the Psalms. We’ll look at some “good” ones as well as some “bad” ones. And I’m hoping that, if nothing else, you’ll “re-engage” with the Psalms—ALL of the Psalms—and read them for what they’re worth.

The Psalm we want to look at today is Psalm 86. The title I have chosen for today’s message is “God, Where Are You?” because that’s what David seems to be saying in this Psalm. I could have chosen many other Psalms that express that same thought—Psalm 10, 22, 88, 89, 102—there are a lot of Psalms that say “God, where are you? I need you desperately. Please, please come to my aid. Please show up and help me.”

There’s an old tale of two travelers. They were on the road together when a large bear suddenly wandered out of the forest in front of them. Before the bear caught sight of the travelers, one of the men made for a tree at the side of the road. He climbed up into the branches as fast as he could and hid there.

The other fellow was not so nimble as his companion, so he simply threw himself down on the ground and played dead. The bear came up and sniffed all around him, but he kept perfectly still and held his breath for he knew that a bear would not touch a dead body.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, the bear took him for dead and went away. When the coast was clear, the traveler in the tree climbed down. He went up to his friend, who was dusting himself off after his close encounter, and asked him if the bear had whispered anything to him when he had put his mouth to his ear.

The other traveler replied “That bear told me never again to travel in bear country with a friend who deserts you at the first sign of danger.”

It seems, as we go through life, that sometimes that is what God does. It seems that he deserts us in times of danger.

Psalm 86 is one of the Psalms that David wrote. We don’t know why he wrote this Psalm. We don’t know the specifics of his situation, but evidently he wrote it at a time in his life when he was under attack. Verse 14 describes what he was facing:

The arrogant are attacking me, O God; a band of ruthless men seeks my life—men without regard for you.

Have you ever been under attack? Have you ever known what it feels like to bear the brunt of criticism; to feel the sting of hostility, to be the target of gossip and slander? You feel exposed and vulnerable. You don’t know where the next blow is going to come from, but you do know that it’s going to hurt.

Perhaps David wrote this Psalm when he was a fugitive being chased by King Saul. Maybe he wrote it when he was king and the enemies of Israel were arrayed against him. Perhaps he wrote it later in his reign when his own son Absalom rebelled against him and tried to overthrow him. Whatever the situation was, David felt like he was facing it all alone.

So let’s look at the text, and remember, we’re reading over David’s shoulder as he talks to God.

David wrote this Psalm in an interesting way. He wrote it as a kind of sandwich—a theology sandwich. I love sandwiches! A good sandwich has bread on the top and bread on the bottom and rich filling in the middle.

The bread at the top and the bottom is where David expresses the problem that he’s wrestling with. That’s found in verses 1–7 at the beginning, and verses 14–17 at the end.

Look at what he says in verses 1–7…

Hear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy. Guard my life, for I am devoted to you. You are my God; save your servant who trusts in you. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I call to you all day long. Bring joy to your servant, for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. You are forgiving and good, O Lord, abounding in love to all who call to you. Hear my prayer, O Lord; listen to my cry for mercy. In the day of my trouble I will call to you, for you will answer me.

So in the first part of this Psalm, he gets his problem out there on the table. And he doesn’t beat around the bush. He says…

• I am poor and needy

• Guard my life

• Save your servant

• Have mercy on me

• I call to you all day long

• Bring joy to your servant

• Hear my prayer

• Listen to my cry for mercy

• In the day of my trouble I will call to you

Notice how personal this all is. David says “I’ve got a problem. And the only way I know how to deal with my problem is to take it to God. But God, I’m not sure that you’re listening. I’m not sure that you are aware of how serious my situation is. I don’t know if you realize that I’m really up against it. I need your help right now, not tomorrow, not next week. I’ve been calling to you all day long, but you haven’t been answering. Where are you, God?”

Have you ever been in David’s shoes? You’re in the midst of a crisis—maybe a medical crisis; maybe a financial crisis; maybe a career crisis, or a family crisis, or a marriage crisis. And you’re calling out to God—but God isn’t saying anything. He isn’t doing anything. It seems as though he is a million miles away.

How does that leave you feeling? Frustrated? Confused? Bewildered? Lonely? Fearful? And, if truth be told, you’re probably more than a little put out with God for not being there for you when you need him.

You’re lying facedown in the middle of the road, the bear is sniffing around your neck and ears, and God seems to be up in the tree with neither the desire nor the ability to come down and help.

That’s where your faith in God is really put to the test. Because what we believe about God doesn’t always line up with what we experience of God. Our circumstances do not always confirm our theology.

David understood that. That’s why—in the middle of this Psalm—he stops complaining and reviews his theology. He recounts what he knows to be true about God. And that forms the filling in this literary sandwich. We find it in verses 8-10…

Among the gods there is none like you, O Lord; no deeds can compare with yours. All the nations you have made will come and worship before you, O Lord; they will bring glory to your name. For you are great and do marvelous deeds; you alone are God.

Almost exactly one year ago, John F. Kennedy Jr. crashed his private plane into the ocean off the coast of Massachusetts, killing himself, his wife, and his wife’s sister. The accident investigation revealed no malfunction in the engine, no mechanical failure of the airframe. The cause of the accident was determined to be the pilot’s inability to maintain control of his aircraft.

Kennedy was not an instrument-rated pilot. He was flying at night, over a black ocean, in haze and low visibility. In such conditions, it is very possible for a pilot to become disoriented. He can’t see the horizon, he can’t get his visual bearings, and his inner ear begins to play tricks on him. He may become convinced that, although his instruments say that he is flying straight and level, he is really in a dive or a turn. And so he may violently try to correct for that, and in doing so, put his aircraft into a stall or a spin.

This is evidently what happened to John Kennedy Jr. His instruments were telling him one thing, his gut feelings were telling him another. And he decided to go with his gut. And it cost him his life.

You know, it’s possible for us as Christians to do the same. Our lives can become so chaotic, so painful, so confusing that we begin to become spiritually disoriented. In the haze and the blackness of a crisis, we begin to experience a sort of spiritual vertigo, where we start to disbelieve what we know to be true about God.

Our instruments—our theology—tells us one thing. But our circumstances and our gut tells us another. And we’re strongly tempted to go with our gut.

This is exactly what happened to Job. His life had fallen apart. He had lost everything. And he struggled mightily to reconcile what was happening to him with what he knew to be true about God.

And this is what David is doing here. In the middle of this Psalm, in the middle of the crisis, he does something crucial. He stops and reviews what he knows to be true about God. He stops looking out the window at his circumstances and he checks his instruments.

My son Pete is beginning to work on his instrument rating as a pilot. One of the things he had to do last week was fly the airplane with a special set of hooded goggles on . The goggles made it impossible for him to look out of the window and get a visual frame of reference. All he could do was look at his instruments and fly the plane entirely on the basis of the information they were giving him. This is something like what David does here. He goes on instruments.

Notice how the personal pronouns change in verses 8–10 from what they were in verses 1–7. In the first 7 verses, it’s all “I” and “my”. In verses 8–10, it’s “you” and “your”. His focus is now on God, not on himself.

God is unique, God does incomparable things, God is the creator of all peoples and nations, He is worthy of our worship and his name is glorious, He is great and does marvelous deeds because He alone is God.

These truths are like the eye of peace in the midst of a hurricane. And you can almost sense David settling down in the next few verses as he absorbs those truths. He begins to regain his spiritual equilibrium. In light of what he knows to be true about God, he says…

Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. I will praise you, O Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever. Great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the depths of the grave.

The connection between David and God is reestablished. Where in the first verses he was feeling abandoned, now he is feeling intimacy in his relationship with God once again. Now he’s starting to feel a little more positive about the future.

And wouldn’t it be great if that’s where the Psalm ended? But it doesn’t end there. Because we still have the bottom of the sandwich—verses 14-17. The problem that David is wrestling with is still there! Look at verse 14…

The arrogant are attacking me, O God; a band of ruthless men seeks my life—men without regard for you. But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Turn to me and have mercy on me; grant your strength to your servant and save the son of your maidservant. Give me a sign of your goodness, that my enemies may see it and be put to shame, for you, O Lord, have helped me and comforted me.

Just because we get our eyes back on God doesn’t mean that all our problems are going to go away. But when we get our eyes focused on God, we have more of an ability to process and deal with our problems. We don’t feel as though God has abandoned us, because we know that he hasn’t. In fact, He is never closer to us than when we are going through struggles.

Notice what David says about him in verse 15…

But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.

A compassionate God is a close God. A gracious God is a close God. A God abounding in love and faithfulness is a close God. Just because I can’t feel his closeness doesn’t mean that he is not there.

He is there when I’m suffering. He does care about what I’m going through. He can help me anytime he chooses. But I must be willing to let him, in his wisdom and sovereignty, determine how and when to intervene.

This is what faith is. Faith is not believing in God and trusting in his goodness because I have all sorts of evidence to confirm that. Faith is when I believe in a loving God and trust in his goodness in the absence of such evidence. This is what Job had to do, and he won a great spiritual victory because he wouldn’t give up trusting in God. He had a stubborn faith. He said “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.”

I come away from Psalm 86 with three lasting impressions…

1. I need to be honest with God about how I’m feeling. If the Psalms teach us anything at all, they teach us this lesson. There is no emotion too raw to bring to him. Sometimes we feel as though we have to clean up our attitudes before we come into his presence. We feel as though we might somehow offend God if we express to him our true feelings.

   David certainly had no such reservations. He literally spilled his guts before God. Held nothing back. And that’s one of the reasons he was a man after God’s own heart.

   There’s no better place to “vent your spleen” than in the presence of God. In fact, it’s far better to do it there than to do it someplace else, with someone else!

3. The bumps and bruises of life have a way of warping my understanding of God.

   In the early days of the British Empire, the biggest technological problem facing the nation was called the longitude problem. As British ships fanned out across the globe on the high seas, sailors needed a reliable way of determining how far east or west they had travelled. It’s easy to figure out your latitude—how far north or south you are. You simply measure the height of the sun in the sky at noon.

   But because the earth is rotating, it’s a lot trickier to figure out your longitude—how far east or west of your starting point you are. In fact, the solution to this problem was so critical to the British Empire that in 1714, Queen Anne established a Board of Longitude and announced a prize of 20,000 pounds to the man who could solve it (that’s over 2 million dollars in today’s money!).

   To make a long story short, a man named John Harrison won the prize. He invented a superbly accurate clock called a marine chronometer. It was a clock that would keep accurate time even on the deck of a tossing ship.

   A sea captain would calibrate his ship’s chronometer to a master chronometer in the Royal Observatory at Greenwich just outside London. Then he would set out on the high seas, and he would always know the exact time it was in London so that he would have a reference point for his measurements.

   When he would return to London, the captain would recalibrate the ship’s chronometer at Greenwich for the next voyage.

   The point is, as we journey through life with its ups and downs, with its many storms, we regularly need to recalibrate our understanding of God by going back to the Scriptures and worshiping him. Our circumstances can jar us off-center so that we begin to think thoughts about God that are untrue or warped.

5. Faith is a plant that grows best in a harsh climate. God wants my faith to grow, and my faith grows best in adversity.

   Many years ago, before synthetic fibers like nylon were invented, the best and strongest rope that you could obtain anywhere in the Western Hemisphere came from the fibers of the agave plant. The agave is a desert plant, and the best agave grew on the wind-swept, hot and dry Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico.

   Well, it so happened that a group of American investors decided to take some of this Mexican agave and grow it on a plantation in Texas. So they did. They planted thousands of agave plants, and hired workers to carefully tend to them.

   But when they harvested and processed the fibers from their plantation-grown agave, the rope they produced was worthless.

   You see, the agave plant needed the harsh conditions of Mexico to produce the strongest fiber. The wind and the harsh sun and the drought were what gave that fiber its toughness.

   Likewise with our faith. The people who have been through the most adversity are the ones with the strongest faith in God.