Psalm 77: I Will

Have you ever had the opportunity to see the moment when everything changes? As a young boy I once saw the place where the rain ended, I don’t mean that it stopped raining, but that it was raining on one side of the road, but on the other side it was dry. That sight still fascinates me, just the image of the line in which everything was different. I always knew in my head that when it was raining where I was, it wasn’t raining in other places, but I had never been able to walk back and forth between those two places. There are definitive starts and stops to everything, there are seasons that come in without warning and those that leave without saying goodbye. There is a reality that is comforting when we are in seasons we find difficult, but troubling when we get to places we would like to hold on to. The real test may be learning where to pitch our tents and where to build our houses, what parts of our lives are temporary resting places and which parts are permanent dwellings. The question that arises is what gets the bulk of my attention, what I know or how I feel? And then, do I have the power to draw the line between where the rain falls and where it stops? Can I decide to quiet the storm?

The psalm begins with Asaph crying out to God. There is a confidence in the first few lines, “I cry aloud to God . . . he will hear me.” But just as quickly as it begins, it turns. The cries to God don’t stop but the comfort that is expected, that is so desperately needed, doesn’t come. He wrote that he stretched out his hands toward God without ceasing, that his soul refused to be comforted, that when he remembered God his soul moaned rather than being stilled, that when he meditates his spirit gives up. He paints the picture of a situation that isn’t changing, of a need that’s not being met, of a wound that just won’t heal. Prayer is a beautiful gift in that it connects us with God. We have the promise that we are heard (John 11:42) and that we will hear (Romans 8:26). Prayer is our place of communion with God, but prayer does not always immediately do what we want it to do, often prayer must change us before it can change things for us.

As Asaph’s problems persisted and his prayers seemed to be going unanswered, he stumbled into something that I’ve done many times myself, he began to wonder if maybe this was just the way things would always be. He asked questions, “Will the LORD spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” These are questions that we sometimes feel but are often afraid to ask. We know the right things to say and we know what we should believe, but in the honesty of our hearts, these are the questions that need to be asked. As I read over Asaph’s questions, I’m tempted to answer them quickly, almost judgmentally. Why is it that we act as if we have been called to defend God’s reputation when our true calling is to show His character? Rather than answering harshly, listen compassionately, so that we can all learn to ask honestly.

Something happened as Asaph asked his questions, he didn’t get answers, but somehow, he was reminded of what was true. In times of prolonged and even extreme difficulty we tend to attempt to comfort ourselves and others with the unknown rather than the known. Rather than reminding each other that “this won’t last forever”, sometimes we need to be reminded of the One who never changes. Circumstances are temporary but character is forever, trouble rises and falls, but God’s love is everlasting, opportunity knocks but Jesus remains. The psalmist didn’t wait for his situation to change, he chose to change his perspective. This is something that is always in our power. We can change where we set our gaze and we can begin to lead rather than follow our hearts.

Four times in the next few lines Asaph wrote, “I will . . .” He didn’t sit back any longer, he didn’t allow what he didn’t know to get cloud what he did know, he didn’t wait to see the truth, he told the truth to himself. “I will appeal to this to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” This refers to the power of God, he was purposefully changing his perspective from the weight of his trouble to the power of God. “I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.” There are times when we must choose to remember. Yes, the Holy Spirit lives in us to bring to our remembrance all the words of Jesus, but sometimes, to walk by faith, means we call to remembrance rather than waiting to be reminded. This is a choice. As we wait, we can either wonder if it will ever happen or remember the last time God blew our minds with His kindness. In our wounds, we can either question if we will ever find peace or we can remember the last time God comforted our weary hearts. In our lack, we can either use false humility and say things like, “it could always be worse” or we can remember all that God has given. Often a new perspective requires a decision to change our mental position.

Asaph wrote, “I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.” Will we let our minds wander or will we shepherd our thoughts toward what we know to be true? We have been given God’s Word and the Holy Spirit as the rod and staff for our thoughts, they keep our minds on course and they fight off the attacks of our enemy, but we must choose to be shepherded. Ultimately that’s what the psalmist was saying, every “I will” was a decision to be led, to keep following, to not break away from the Shepherd of his soul. In doing this, one of the things that he did was to recount the wonders that God had performed before. He went back, as Israel often did, to the exodus from Egypt and God’s parting of the Red Sea. He wrote something that is stunning, “Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen.” When the psalmist gave the effort to remember what God had done, he saw something old from a new perspective. It was not that God opened the Red Sea for Israel, it was that God’s way, God’s will, God’s plan, was through the Red Sea. God didn’t react to Israel’s trouble, He led them in a way that looked like trouble but would lead to glory. We can’t assume that we will always see God’s footprints in the way that He is leading.  God led Israel to the sea just as much as He led them through it. God sent Egypt after Israel before He destroyed them for Israel. He’s not the God who swoops in and rescues, He’s the God who orders every step, who hears every prayer and who fulfills every promise. He will be faithful to His character, the question today is if we will trust His heart, wait for His will and remember His love. Sometimes the moment that changes everything, the line between the rain and the dry ground, is as simple as our decision to look back and remember where our help came from and then to look up and see that it’s still coming. The question is never if God will do what He promised, but if we will remember all that God has done.