Friday, 26 October 2018

On the brink of despair... (1)

Darkness is my closest friend. Psalm 88:18

How sad are those words! They form the terrible closing line of a psalm that it simply sad, sad, sad from beginning to end. If you have never reflected on it before, I do encourage you to do so. Give it time; let it sink in - it is, after all, as much part of God’s word as Psalm 23, John 3:16 or 1 Corinthians 13.

According to the psalm’s title, it reflects the mood of a man called Heman the Ezrahite, about whom we know next to nothing. But reading his words, perhaps some three thousand years after he wrote them, I feel I know him, for his feelings are as common today as they were in his day.

Two questions come to mind.

The first is: why does he feel this way? I can think of three possible answers...

First, he is afraid of dying. This comes across particularly in verses 3-6 and 10-12.

The Old Testament as a whole has little to say about an afterlife; true, there are hints of something wonderful to come - but only hints. Not until we get to the resurrection of Jesus do we find the solid and glorious hope of death defeated and eternal life in the presence of God.

Heman faces death with little relish: “I am counted among those who go down to the pit” (verse 4) - and judging by the rest of what he says, the thought of “the pit” brings him no hope.

If you are a Christian, aren’t you glad you live on this side of the resurrection? Even if the prospect of dying is understandably daunting, aren’t you glad you can say with the apostle Paul, “For to me to live is Christ - and to die is even better” (Philippians 1:21)? Aren’t you glad for that wonderful first Easter morning, when they went to Jesus’ tomb - and found it empty? For the breath-taking words of the angels: “He is not here; he has risen...”?

God help us to live every day not in fear of “the pit”, but in anticipation of endless and unspoiled joy!

Second, he feels God is angry with him.

“Your wrath lies heavily on me” (verse 7); “I have borne your terrors” (verse 15); “Your wrath has swept over me” (verse 16).

Was God really angry with him, or is this just the way he feels? We don’t know. But perhaps there are times when we too find ourselves feeling this way. Sometimes people say, “I must have done something really bad... God must be really angry with me.”

No doubt there are occasions when God is indeed angry with us (though only as a loving Father with his child), and rightly so - this is one of the reasons he has given us that mysterious thing called “conscience”.

But sometimes too this feeling amounts to little more than superstition, and we need to drive it out of our minds.

Remember that time when people asked Jesus about the blind man: “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” And Jesus’ reply began with the plain word, “Neither...” (John 9: 1-3). Remember too the time they asked him about some Galileans who were slaughtered by Herod’s soldiers in the very act of worshipping God. Jesus asks, Does that mean they were worse sinners than everyone else? And again the answer is a clear No! (Luke 13:1-3). Or the people crushed by a collapsing tower... No. (Luke 13:4-5).

A proper sense of guilt and shame when we have done wrong? - yes, of course. But no superstition! Remember the great statement of Paul in Romans 8:1: “There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus...” No condemnation! How poor Heman would have loved to hear those wonderful words!

Third, he is desperately lonely.

Anyone who can describe “the darkness” as their “closest friend” is obviously in a pitiful state. Is there no-one to comfort him? No-one to hold his hand? No-one just to sit with him? Apparently not: “You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them” (verse 8) (did he have leprosy, perhaps?).

It’s said that anything is bearable if you have somebody to bear it with you. Those of us who have never been seriously lonely can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to feel we have no-one - literally no-one - to share our troubles (or our joys, come to that).

The challenge is obvious: Can you think of someone who needs your companionship? You could be, quite literally, a life-saver.

I said Psalm 88 prompted two questions to my mind. I’ve glanced at the first: Why does Heman the Ezrahite feel this way? But I’ve run out of space, so I’ll leave the second till next time: How can Psalm 88 help us? I hope you’ll join me...

Lord God, when I am in the depths of doubt and loneliness, and close to despair, help me to “trace the rainbow through the rain, and feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be”. Amen.

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