Psalm 6
Confident prayer from the sick-bed of tears
Luther’s Tentatio
It would’ve been around February. March. 2006. And a group of 25-30 students had just returned from their summer break to engage in their second year of classes at George Whitefield College. A Bible College located right on the beach at Muizenberg. In Cape Town, South Africa.
As the students take their seats. And enjoy catching up on what each other had been up to over the holidays. The lecturer walks in. They’ve had him before but not for this subject. Doctrine of God and Humanity. What the Bible says about who God is and about what it means to be human.
And the lecturer. He directs his students to what seems like a strange place to start. Genesis 32. Where the Old Testament believer, Jacob, wrestles. Struggles. With God. And the lecturer. He goes on to quote from Martin Luther. Who said that there are three things that make a theologian. Three things that make up the correct study of God’s Word. The Bible. Oratio. Meditatio. And tentatio. It might’ve been helpful if they’d taken Latin in 1st year. But he kindly went on to explain. Three things that make a theologian. Three things that make up the correct study of the Bible. Oratio. Prayer. Fair enough. Meditatio. Meditation. Reflection. On God’s Word. Sure. And tentatio. Trial. Agonising internal struggle. Oh. Welcome to 2nd year.
But welcome, really, to the Christian life. Because although, if you’re not a Christian here this morning, you do go through trials and struggle and suffering. I don’t doubt that. Tentatio. This agonising internal struggle that Luther spoke of. It’s something that’s uniquely Christian. It comes as a result of praying and meditating on God’s Word. And as you experience life. Seek to live life. Out of the practice of those things. Luther said tentatio “teaches you not only to know and understand but also to experience how right, how true, how sweet, how lovely, how mighty, how comforting God’s word is”. That only comes to us through this agonising internal struggle. Tentatio.
But as Christians. And as the Christian Church more generally. I’m not sure if we’ve really been all that good at this. Coping with. Responding to. Engaging with. This aspect of the Christian life. Think of the songs that we generally sing. There are not many to help us process the trials. Struggles. Suffering. Of this life. We’ve tried to include some in our gathering this morning but there are not all that many to choose from. And it’s our gatherings. And our Christian life more generally. That are the worse for it.
Have a listen to what Carl Trueman. A Christian thinker and writer. Says. In a chapter entitled, ‘What can miserable Christians sing?’ He writes … “A diet of unremittingly jolly choruses and hymns inevitably creates an unrealistic horizon of expectation which sees the normative Christian life as one long triumphalist street party – a theologically incorrect and a pastorally disastrous scenario in a world of broken individuals”. You see, we haven’t done ourselves any favours have we as we seek to respond to the realities of life this side of heaven.
One who has done us favours, though. And in more ways than we realise. Is our God. The God of the Bible. Who has seen fit to provide us with a song book that speaks to the realities of life this side of heaven. A song book that gives us the words to use when the music of this life turns dark and morbid and mournful. Welcome to Psalm 6. How about we talk to God and ask for his help as we look at this part of his Word together. Let’s pray …
Lord, we often don’t want to face up to the realities of life. Sometimes we do have expectations that are neither in line with your Word, nor do they match what life’s actually like. Which means that we suffer. And our faith suffers. All the more as a result. This morning may your Word give us the words that we need. The wisdom and the insight to navigate the sometimes agonising internal struggles we face. We ask this in Jesus’ name, Amen.
The depths of despair (vv. 1-7)
Well, the David we meet in this Psalm is a David who is in the depths of despair. He’s in the depths of despair. Let me read the first seven verses of Psalm 6 again …
“O LORD, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. No one remembers you when he is dead. Who praises you from the grave? I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes”.
As I read these words I find it a bit difficult to enter into David’s experience because I dunno if I’ve really gone through something like he’s clearly going through here. But I know that some of you have. And that some of you are. This is your experience now. And I know that. Given what life is like this side of heaven. All of us ought to expect that we’ll experience at least something of this at some point in our lives. So it’ll repay all of us to pay attention to what we have before us here this morning.
David asks in verse 1 that God would not rebuke him in anger or discipline him in wrath. This has led some to say that there is some sin in David’s life that God’s responding to by bringing this physical and emotional torment upon him. And while we do sometimes see a connection like that drawn in the Bible, it’s never that hard and fast. That this is always because of that. The connection between personal sin and suffering. It’s a possible connection but not a definite connection. And, unlike other places. Like Psalm 38. Which is quite similar to this Psalm in many ways. Here there is no confession of sin. David’s going through this torment and presumably, if he was aware of some sin that might’ve brought it about, he would confess it. But he doesn’t.
Perhaps a better way to understand David’s opening plea here is that he asks not to be rebuked or disciplined for actually bringing this problem to God in prayer. You see, if you have a high view of God’s sovereignty. Which the Scriptures encourage us to have. A view that enables you to see that all things are under God’s control and come to us out of his good purposes. And if you have a view of humanity, which is that we are merely creatures. And when. For whatever reason. You’re particularly feeling your ‘creatureliness’. It may seem a bit presumptuous to complain to God about an experience that has either been sent, or permitted, by God. That, to me, given the rest of the Psalm, seems to make better sense of verse 1.
Well, rather than rebuking in anger and disciplining in wrath, David desires. Verse 2. That God would be merciful to him. And for God’s mercy to be particularly expressed in terms of healing him. Because he is faint. His bones are in agony. And his soul is suffering the same. The word that’s used to describe his bones is the same word that’s used to describe how his soul is feeling here. Just like his bones are in agony, his soul. It’s in anguish. And so his cry in verse 3 is that classic cry that comes from one who is in the depths of despair. Verse 3. “How long, O LORD, how long?
I wonder, have you been there? Are you in that place, right now? Faint. In agony on the outside. In anguish on the inside. Crying out, ‘How long? How long?’
You see, there’s a brand. A form. Of Christianity. That hasn’t served us so well. It’s a way of expressing Christian faith that says, ‘Chin up, Charlie. Put your best foot forward. Stiff upper lip and all that’. A way of being Christian that forces us to think, ‘It’s all good’, but that never allows the tears to fall when it doesn’t feel all good. An expression of faith that demands unflinching obedience and unwavering trust but that leaves no room for feelings and emotions that are deemed unworthy or that might hint that faith can be a struggle at times.
Don Carson. In his helpful book, ‘How long, O Lord? Reflections on suffering and evil’ puts it this way. He says. In commenting on this psalm. “It is overwhelmingly important to reflect on the fact that this psalm, and dozens of similar ones, are included in Scripture. There is no attempt in Scripture to whitewash the anguish of God’s people when they undergo suffering. They argue with God, they complain to God, they weep before God. Theirs is not a faith that leads to dry-eyed stoicism, but a faith so robust it wrestles with God”. He continues, “David points to a better way. He does not display stoic resignation, nor does he betray doubt that God exists. Even when he feels abandoned by God, his sense of isolation issues in an emotional pursuit of the God who, in his view, is slow to answer. David’s suffering leads him to frank pleading with God, to confession, to tears. ‘My soul is in anguish’, he says: he does not worry whether this might be viewed as rather letting down the side”.
Do you feel that way? Perhaps have others made you feel that way? That by expressing your struggles in life. By voicing your doubts. By asking, ‘How long?’, that you’re somehow letting the team down? Letting God down even? This psalm. And it’s not the only one. It speaks against that way of thinking, doesn’t it? Clearly in the realm of faith in this God. In the God of the Bible. There is room for such feelings and emotions. And the expression of them. It is permitted and, dare we say it, even encouraged.
Well, David, he calls on God. Verse 4. To turn and deliver him. To save him. Not on the basis of anything in David, notice. But only. End of verse 4. On the basis of God’s “unfailing love”. His steadfast, covenant love. His lovingkindness. God’s preserving of him in such a way would ensure that David can continue to remember God. And praise him. As he desires. For. Verse 5. And reflecting the prevailing view of Old Testament believers. “No one remembers you when he is dead. Who praises you from the grave?”
By the time we reach verse 6. Such is David’s agony and anguish. It would seem that even his ability to pray has petered out. He is fatigued from his groaning. He’s caused his bed to swim. To float. With his tears. And his couch has fared no better. The combination of his enemies and his sorrow has caused his eyes to become weak. You know how your eyes sting. How they hurt. When you’ve been crying a lot? That’s David here. He’s reached that awful, lonely, destination called the depths of despair.
Confident prayer (vv. 8-10)
Well, have the tears that’ve been shed been for nothing? What hope is there for those who find themselves at rock bottom? What is the way ahead for the one who is scarcely able even to pray? Where can we turn when we’ve been brought to the depths of despair?
Well, notice the distinct change in tone that comes in the Psalm from verse 8 onwards. There’s a definite shift that we can hear. Perhaps for David there was some answering touch. Some reassurance. That he was given as he reached the end of himself. That brought him confidence and helped him continue and end the Psalm in the way he does. As this Psalm appears to have been used in the context of corporate worship. The superscription at the very beginning tells us that. Perhaps something similar occurred for the Old Testament believer at this point. Some message or statement that was brought by the priest. Or a temple servant. That infused the believer’s anguish with confidence.
Be that as it may, the psalm certainly ends in these final verses. Verses 8 to 10. On a definite note of confident prayer from the depths of despair. Verse 8 …
“Away from me, all who you do evil, for the LORD has heard my weeping. The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer. All my enemies will be ashamed and dismayed; they will turn back in sudden disgrace”.
Can you hear the notes. The tone. Of confidence here?
In verse 2 David was petitioning God. Crying out to God. To be merciful to him. Here in verse 9 he confidently asserts, “the LORD has heard my cry for mercy”.
In verses 2 and 3 we saw that his bones were in agony. And his soul was in anguish. The same word being used to describe both. Well, the same word. It pops up again at the end. Translated as “dismayed” in verse 10. It’s David’s confident expectation that what was his experience will, in the end, be the experience of his enemies. As they will be the ones who “will be ashamed and dismayed”.
As David called on God in verse 4 to turn to him and deliver him. In verse 10. The very last line of the Psalm. It’s his confident expectation that it will be his enemies who “will turn back in sudden disgrace”.
There’s such a note. A tone. Of confidence that’s present in these last few verses of the Psalm. And yet notice what is not present in these last few verses. There’s no indication here that the Psalmist’s. That David’s. Circumstances have changed in any way.
He’s confident that his enemies will be ashamed and dismayed. That they will turn back in sudden disgrace. But nothing indicates that that’s happened already. Isn’t he still faint? His bones still in agony and his soul in anguish? Isn’t he still worn out from groaning? His eyes still weak with sorrow, having flooded his bed and his couch with his tears? Has his anguished cry, ‘How long’, been answered in any way? As far as I can see, there’s no indication anywhere in these last few verses that his circumstances have changed in any way.
And, yet. And, yet, he’s confident in prayer. Because in going through that agonising internal struggle. What Luther would later describe as tentatio. He’s been brought to a deeper, richer, appreciation. Experience. Of who his God is as he reveals himself in his Word. There’s something greater. Something more important. For us to experience than the changing of our circumstances. Do you believe that? There is something greater and more important than the changing of our circumstances.
Sufficient for this believer is knowing. Truly knowing. That his God is a God who hears him. Verse 8. “… the Lord has heard my weeping”. Verse 9. “The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer”.
I wonder what difference it would make to you when you’re in the depths of despair. I wonder what difference it would make to you even if your circumstances don’t change. To know. To understand. To experience. That there is a God who hears and accepts your prayer? It clearly makes all the difference in the world for this believer.
The Man of Sorrows
David. As a man of sorrows as he is in this psalm. Points us to the Man of Sorrows. The Suffering Servant. The Lord Jesus Christ.
You see, the Christian God. The God of the Bible. When it comes to the experience of suffering. Truly has done us favours in more ways than we realise, hasn’t he? He’s given us this word that speaks to the realities of life this side of heaven. That gives us the words to use in those times. And in his Word made flesh. In the person of his Son. He’s given us himself. He’s come and experienced life this side of heaven for himself. There’s no other religion. No other worldview. That makes that kind of claim. Yet, in Jesus, it is the Christian’s claim. God knows. He really does.
This Jesus who was a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering. This Jesus whose own heart was troubled and in anguish as he considered his death. This Jesus who, upon the cross, cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ This Jesus. In whose death on the cross these rivers of God’s wrath and anger, and love and mercy, that David speaks of in this Psalm, ultimately join and are reconciled. This Jesus who is the supreme expression of God’s unfailing love through which we are saved. This Jesus whose death and resurrection opens up for us the possibility of a whole new land where there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.
It’s through this Jesus that we come to God in prayer. Our circumstances may not change this side of heaven. That’s not promised us. We will descend to the depths of despair at times. In our suffering there are no easy answers. But through it all we’re able to come confidently in prayer. In fact, even more confidently than David. And know. Understand. Experience. That God ours is a God who hears and accepts our prayer. For we’ve been given a merciful and faithful high priest who has been made like us in every respect. We have a high priest who’s able to sympathise with our weaknesses, having been tempted in every way like we are, yet was without sin. It’s because of Jesus. The Man of Sorrows. That we can draw near to the throne of grace with confidence and receive mercy and grace to help us in our time of need. Let’s pray …
Lord, we might find ourselves in the depths of despair today. These might be our words this morning. That you would be merciful to us and heal us. That our souls are in anguish and we’re asking, ‘How long?’ That you would turn and deliver us because we’re worn out from groaning and our eyes are weak with sorrow. Grant to us, we pray, the confidence that knows that you hear our weeping. Our cry for mercy. That you accept our prayer. We praise and thank you that in your Son you have experienced suffering. Life as we live it. That in his death, wrath and anger has been taken and your love and mercy can be freely lavished on us. That in his rising again, new life is ours and, with it, the certain hope of a place where there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain. Though our circumstances may not be as we would desire them to be. Though they may not even change this side of heaven. May you be all we need as you assure and re-assure us that you hear and accept our prayers. For we pray them in the name of our great high priest, the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Well, there are some questions on the overhead to help you reflect further on what we’ve been thinking about this morning. I’ll just read them for the sake of the recording and then give you a couple of minutes to have some quiet to think on your own, and then I’ll come and introduce our final song.
In what way, or ways, can you relate to David’s experience in this Psalm?
What difference does it make to you that God hears and accepts your prayers?
What is it about Jesus that enables us to be confident as we come to God in prayer?