Psalm 88

Well, please do turn with me in your Bibles, if you have one with you, to this very remarkable Psalm, Psalm 88.

! I wonder if, like me, you often find the Bible deeply unsettling reading.

The Bible not only richly encourages us,

it at times profoundly perplexes us.

And that's because, I think, there is an intense honesty in the Bible about the life of faith.

The life of faith is lived before the God who is from everlasting to everlasting,

whose thoughts are higher than our thoughts, whose ways are higher and holier and wiser than our ways.

We live our days out before Him who has ordained all things from the beginning to the end.

And it shouldn't surprise us that life can be deeply, profoundly, unsettlingly perplexing.

I wonder if you've ever realized that over 40% of the book of Psalms is laments.

59 of the 150 Psalms are laments.

Songs in a minor key, sometimes so minor as Psalm 88,

you can hardly lift your voice out of the depths to sing them.

I wonder if you've ever asked yourself,

why are there so many laments in the book of Psalms?

This was the songbook of God's Old Covenant Church.

This was the songbook of our Lord Jesus Christ.

He would have sung the Psalms.

Why so many laments?

Well, of course, the answer is very simple, isn't it?

The life of faith is lived out in a fallen, anti-God, anti-Christ world.

The life of faith is lived out in a world where the evil one, the devil himself,

holds remarkable sway under the sovereign, overruling power and purpose of God.

And we have added to that the constant tension of indwelling sin,

the sin that yet remains within us to humble us,

and at times bring us so low,

we all must wonder,

Lord, is it possible that someone like me could really be a Christian?

Maybe you've never thought that.

You would be an unusual beast if you never have.

Indwelling sin can be so humbling, so disheartening.

You think, Lord, here I am again,

after so many years,

confessing the same sins.

When will I ever learn?

Have I ever learned?

I've been thinking these past months somewhat about how the Lord Jesus Christ

was always pressing on would-be disciples,

the cost that would be involved in following Him.

We know these words so well,

unless you take up your cross and follow me,

you cannot be my disciple.

But I wonder if we really pause long enough to ask ourselves,

what exactly is Jesus saying here?

He isn't saying that life will be full of minor inconveniences

that will bring a little bit of disturbance into your life.

He's saying,

unless you're ready to die,

and to die a cruel,

viciously cruel death,

for me,

you cannot be my disciple.

Imagine someone came to you tonight and said,

I know you're a Christian.

Tell me,

what must I do to become a follower of Jesus Christ?

And you say to them,

well, our Lord says,

unless you take up your cross and follow Him,

unless you hate father, mother, wife,

husband, child, friend,

compared to your love to Him,

you cannot be His disciple.

I just wonder what they would think.

Are you serious?

Do you not want me to belong

to the community of faith to which you belong?

And you would say,

with all my heart,

but I need to tell you,

because this is what our Lord Jesus tells us,

that the life of faith can be profoundly,

unsettlingly,

deeply,

pervasively,

overwhelmingly,

dark,

and difficult.

Psalm 88 is an extreme song of lament.

We're not told why this man of God

is suffering so overwhelmingly.

Some suggest,

some suggest,

with the introduction,

a song,

a psalm of the sons of Korah

to the choir master,

according to Mahaloth,

Le'anoth.

Some suggest,

excellent Hebrew scholars,

that they are,

that the words reflect something

of mental disturbance.

silence.

But we're not told.

And we're not told,

perhaps,

so that the psalm can apply

to God's overwhelmed people,

no matter the reason

for their desolation and desperation.

for this man is desolate and desperate.

And do you notice how the psalm ends?

I think our English versions tend to smooth out the Hebrew.

My companions have become darkness.

I think probably better,

darkness is my only friend.

Darkness is my only friend.

Verse 8,

You have caused my companions to shun me.

You have made me a horror to them.

All I've got left is darkness.

darkness.

No spark of hope.

No upbeat ending.

You know,

you meet Christians

and they always seem to give the impression

that everything will turn out fine.

Just believe.

You want to avoid people like that,

as you would avoid the plague.

No upbeat ending.

This is one man's experience,

but God in His wisdom

has inscripturated it

in the songbook

of His people.

Now, we don't know who this Haman was.

There is a Haman

who is mentioned in 1 Chronicles 6.

He was one of the temple singers

that David appointed

to celebrate

when the temple would be built.

Possibly it's him.

We don't really know who he was.

We don't know

really the nature of his suffering.

Was it mental?

Was it spiritual?

Was it physical?

Was it a combination of all three?

What we do know

is that his whole being

is shrouded in darkness.

God seems to have

abandoned him.

And darkness

is his only

companion.

So, in this psalm,

we are confronted

with a man

whose life

is a life

of unrelieved,

unceasing,

moment by moment,

day by day,

utter turmoil.

Every moment

of the day

he is bereft.

Look what he says

in verse 16 and 17.

Your wrath

has swept over me.

Your dreadful assaults

destroy me.

They surround me

like a flood

all

day

long.

There's

not a moment

where he finds

relief

from the desolations

that have

enshrouded him

and overwhelmed him.

everywhere he looks,

it seems

that his God,

the God of his salvation,

look what he writes

in verse 1,

O Lord,

God of my salvation.

Everywhere he looks,

it seems to him

from the providences

of his life

that the God

of his salvation

has abandoned him,

turned against him,

he is

a broken

man.

Now,

before I say

a number of things

about the psalm,

I want to

ask a question.

Is

Henman

a depressed

believer?

believer?

That would be

the conclusion

that we could

perhaps most

obviously jump to

as we read

through the psalm.

Here is a man

who is in the depths

of depression.

And it may be

the case.

But I wonder

myself

if the truth

is actually

a little more

profound

than that.

it's not

that he

is depressed.

It is

that he

is a

faithful

believer

who is

experiencing

the cost

of faithfulness

to the

God of his

salvation.

You know

the Psalms

42 and 43,

why are you

cast down,

O my soul?

Why are you

so distressed

within me?

You read

most commentaries

and they say,

here is a

depressed

believer.

I don't think

it is a

depressed

believer.

I think

it is

someone who

has entered

into the

experience

of the

costliness

of

faithfulness.

Now don't

get me wrong,

depression is

real and

Christians can

easily get

depressed,

overwhelmingly

depressed.

But perhaps

here we

are seeing

a man

who is

where he

is,

not so

much because

of mental

disturbance,

or perhaps

even of

physical

illness that

has caused

his companions

to shun him

as he puts

it.

Some

commentators

think that

he has a

severe case

of leprosy.

But perhaps

we're simply

being confronted

with a man

who is

agonizing

over the

fact that

the Lord

God Almighty

is the God

of his

salvation.

But look

at my

life.

How do I

reconcile my

circumstances,

my overwhelming

darkness,

with the fact

that God is

the God of

my salvation?

salvation.

And it

may be that

he is simply

living out as

an old

covenant

echo the

ultimate

faithfulness of

the faithful

servant of

the Lord,

Jesus Christ

himself.

But we'll

come to that

in a short

time.

Let me make

six observations

very simply,

very briefly.

I know our

time is hurrying

on.

Notice first of

all that in

his darkness,

he prayed.

His darkness

did not drive

him from

God.

It cast

him upon

God.

O Lord,

God of my

salvation,

I cry out

day and

night before

you.

Let my

prayer come

before you.

Incline your

ear to my

cry.

He has not

turned his

back on God,

though it seems

to him God

has turned his

back on him.

He will

not let

God go.

Life has

become

unrelieved

darkness.

What does

he do?

He lifts

up his

heart to

the Lord.

Secondly,

notice that he

prayed as a

man of

faith.

His faith is

battered,

perhaps it's

even broken,

but it's

functioning.

I don't

think there's

any suggestion

in the

psalm that

it was his

sin that

had brought

these calamities

upon his

life.

He's left

with this

conundrum.

Why,

O Lord,

God,

you're the

God of

my salvation.

I cry

out to

you day

and night

and you

can almost

feel the

perplexity.

Why?

I sometimes

wonder that

that elemental

cry of our

Savior from

the cross,

my God,

my God,

why have

you forsaken

me?

That one of

the implications

of that cry

is to tell

us that

even the

holiest,

purest,

and sinless

of men

experienced

a why

that he

could not

resolve in

his holy

humanity.

I don't

know any

of you

meaningfully

at all,

and your

circumstances

may be very

different from

mine,

but perhaps

for some

of you

there is

this

recurring,

Lord,

why?

Why this?

Why now?

Why?

The Bible

does not

promise us

that this

side of

glory,

our whys,

will be

resolved.

That's why

the psalm

ends,

my only

companion is

darkness.

There's no

happy ending.

Wouldn't it

be lovely

just to have

happy endings

all the time?

I've often

thought of

late when

I've been

praying,

saying,

Lord,

if it

were left

to me,

I wouldn't

have one

difficulty,

trial,

or trouble

touch my

children or

my

grandchildren.

I would

want them

to navigate

this life

safely and

sweetly.

The Lord,

who is

wiser,

says,

that will

not be

for their

good,

either for

their present

good or for

their eternal

good.

And so

we live

by faith

and not

by sight.

We're

Christians

not because

we've got

answers for

everything.

You want

to avoid

people like

that who

have got

answers for

everything.

The older

I get,

the more

ready and

willing I

am to

say,

I don't

know.

But let

me tell

you what

I do

know.

Thirdly,

do you

notice he

prayed every

day?

He says it

in verse

one.

He says it

again in

verse

nine.

My eye

grows dim

through sorrow

every day

I call upon

you,

O Lord.

I spread

out my

hands to

you every

day.

Do you

see what

this man

is saying?

I've got

no one

else to

go to.

I've got

no one

else to

turn to.

I will

not let

you go.

to whom

else can

I go?

Every

day I

call upon

you,

Lord.

You

know,

you meet

people

occasionally

who say,

but if

only you

had more

faith,

if only

you prayed

more,

and,

well,

please God,

I need

my faith

enriched and

deepened,

it's shallow

and shameful.

I need

to be

praying

greatly

more than

I do.

Sometimes

we're left

with this.

Lord,

I pray

every day,

every day,

every waking

moment,

and nothing

happens.

Another new

morning breaks

and the

darkness is

there.

But he

won't let

God go.

That's one

of the

stellar,

pristine

marks of

a man

or woman

of God.

They

will not

let

God

go.

And then

fourthly,

notice he

recognizes that

the Lord is

the one

ultimately

behind everything

that's happening

to him.

He knows

that evil

is not

autonomous.

Your wrath

has swept

over me.

Your dreadful

assaults

destroy me.

He

understands

that

Satan

can do

nothing

beyond

God's

holy,

wise,

good,

and perfect

will.

He

understands

that he's

a creature

under the

sovereign,

overruling

will,

purpose,

grace,

mercy,

and kindness

of God.

And he

traces everything

back to its

origin.

He knows

that God

uses sin

sinlessly

for his

glory and

for the

good of

his people.

And he's

saying,

Lord,

I know

that my

life is

not at

the mercy

of mere

circumstance.

I know

that my

life is

not at

the mercy

of mental

turmoil

or physical

distress

or of

companions

deserting

me and

rejecting me.

I know

that ultimately

my times

are in

your hands,

ways that

you ordain

the way

that I

have to

take.

Paul

prayed,

didn't he,

a little

earlier,

your ways

are not

our ways.

You know,

I sometimes

think we,

those of us

in the

Reformed

tradition,

we placard

very seriously

the sovereignty

of God.

Do we

really

understand

what we

are placarding?

The

sovereignty

of the

God

who

sends

in his

wisdom

pandemics?

You know,

I hear

people praying

and they

say,

oh God,

this awful

disease,

it's as if

God has

been benign

and passive

and it's

as if

he is to

now catch

up with

this

unexpected

happening.

He ordains

all that

comes to

pass,

mysteriously,

profoundly,

unfathomably.

You're left

your head

spinning.

If your

head doesn't

spin,

I sometimes

think,

can you

really be

a Christian?

What kind

of world

are you

living in?

Our heads

spin.

We cannot

begin to

begin to

begin to

fathom the

ways of

the Almighty.

That's why

I love those

words at the

end of

Romans 11.

Where Paul

having so

gloriously,

and you'll

come to

it in

about five

years'

time,

where Paul

says he

so wonderfully

explained the

gospel and

you're swept

along and

then he

ends and

he says,

oh the

depths,

both of the

riches of

the wisdom

and knowledge

of God,

how unsearchable

are his

judgments.

His paths

are beyond

tracing out.

You see,

when we

preach the

cross of

Jesus Christ,

we must

never preach

it as

some kind

of mathematical

theorem.

Here are

all the

parts,

and when you

put them

all together,

you see

marvelous,

propitiatory,

sacrificial

atonement.

We should

be so out

of our

depth,

we hardly

know what

the next

word is

to speak.

And we

speak,

Augustine was

right,

we speak so

that we

don't remain

silent.

You say,

well God's

given us

his word.

Absolutely

he's given

us his

word.

Absolutely

true.

God,

but it

takes us

out of

our

depths.

God,

become

man.

I was

sharing this

with someone

recently,

I was

ministering

Cambridge,

one of the

girls who

started attending

church,

she'd been

brought along,

she asked if

she could

meet with

me for

coffee,

and I

remember

yet sitting

with her

in Starbucks,

and I

could see

she was

building up

to something,

and she's

a bright

girl,

and she

said,

can I

ask you

a question?

I said,

yeah,

you can

ask whatever

you like.

She says,

do you

believe in

Noah's

Ark?

And I

burst out

laughing,

and I

could see

she was a

little

disconcerted.

I said,

believe in

Noah's Ark.

I believe

the creator

of the

cosmos

became a

zygote in

a virgin's

womb.

You think

Noah's Ark's

a problem?

Of course I

believe in

Noah's Ark.

But the

gospel takes

us out of

all our

intellectual

categories and

canons.

Who has

known the

mind of

the Lord?

God

become man?

Jim

Packer was

right.

He says,

we simply

bow down

and worship

because we

don't know

how to

speculate.

And the

early church

was wonderful.

It got

some things

wrong,

but my,

it got

some things

right.

But when

it came

to

explicate

the union

in Jesus

Christ of

God and

man,

they just

used negative

adverbs.

They didn't

know how

to use

positive

adverbs

because they

couldn't

fathom the

inexplicableness,

so they simply

said it was

without confusion,

without division,

without separation,

without mixture.

life is

unfathomable

at times.

But here

is a man

who understands

that behind

all the

providences

that are

overwhelming

him,

it's the

Lord.

Like Psalm

42 and

43,

all your

waves and

breakers

have swept

over me.

just two

things to

go.

Number

five,

the Psalm

reminds us

that the

believing

life may

be marked

by

unrelieved

darkness.

You know

the verse

in Isaiah

50,

let him

who walks

in the

dark and

who has

no light

trust in

his God.

God,

I'm sure

like me

there have

been periods

of darkness

in your

life.

I've never

known what

it is

to have

unrelieved

darkness.

I have a

friend who

once told

me he

envied the

lampposts

of Glasgow

because they

had light.

But in

Isaiah

50,

let him

who walks

in the

darkness

and who

has no

light

yet

trust in

his God.

There's

much I

would like

to say

but I

know our

time has

gone.

You know

this is

one reason

why the

church needs

pastors and

elders who

are gentle

humble

physicians of

the soul,

who are

slow to

speak and

who are

quick to

listen,

who are

patient and

kind,

who don't

offer slick

answers to

people who

are walking

in darkness.

That's why

we need to

take the

greatest care

that the

men we

set apart

to shepherd

the flock

will shepherd

them with

gentleness,

tenderness,

thoughtfulness.

Yes, at

times with

clarity and

conviction but

most often

almost saying

nothing,

slow to

speak and

quick to

listen.

not giving

slick

answers and

maybe,

you know,

maybe the

best thing

you could

ever do

is simply

to sit

and weep

with those

who weep

and to

pray with

them and

to break

your heart

with their

breaking

hearts.

And they

look to

their pastors

and elders

and you

say,

I've got

nothing to

give you

except this.

The God

who spared

not his

only son

and who

delivered him

up for us

all is a

God we

can cast

ourselves upon

in our

extremity,

knowing that

one day he

will wipe

every tear

from our

eyes.

And he'll

make all

things new.

well,

one last

thing,

and I'm

sure you

would be

expecting

this.

In your

darkness,

whatever that

darkness may

be,

if you

were a

Christian

believer,

you have

a companion

who knows

what it is

to be

consumed

by darkness.

On the

cross,

all the

lights went

out for

Jesus Christ.

There wasn't

a pinprick

of light

in the

cosmos of

God's

creation for

the Son

of God.

All the

lights went

out.

He is

able to

help us,

not by

the wonder

of divine

omniscience

and divine

omnipotence,

which he

has,

but he

is able

especially

to help

us,

because he

knows our

frame,

because it

is his

own frame.

There is

dust on

the throne

of heaven,

and that

dust knows

darkness

personally.

It knows

darkness

intimately.

It knows

darkness that

no one of

his people

will ever,

ever,

in 10,000

times,

10,000

years,

begin to

begin to

understand.

His

darkness

was a

diameter

removed

from all

our

darknesses.

And

because he

entered

into

darkness,

he is

able to

help

those

who are

going

through

darkness.

And

ultimately,

that's

the comfort

the gospel

gives.

You're

not alone.

you're

not alone.

He may

feel alone.

He may

feel that

darkness

was his

only

companion,

but

actually,

actually,

there was

one with

him who

was keeping

him from

apostatizing,

who was

keeping him

from turning

his back

on God

and blaspheming

him.

darkness

was not

his only

companion.

So let

me just

say to

you,

as I say

to myself

tonight,

however

dark your

days may

be,

number

one,

there is

one who

knows your

darkness

because he

has been

in your

darkness.

darkness.

And secondly,

there is

one who

said,

I will

never leave

you nor

forsake

you.

He may

seem far

off,

but God

would

un-God

himself

if he

abandoned

one of

his blood

bought

children.

let him

who walks

in the

darkness

and who

has no

light

yet

trust

in

his

God.

May the

Lord

bless his

word to

us this

evening.

Let him

let him