“Sorrowful, Yet Always Rejoicing”
One of my favorite summaries of the Christian life is when Paul says that he is “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10). In contrast, I wonder if we’re more likely to walk around pretending to rejoice while we bury our sorrows? Quick to appear happy, slow to reveal sorrow?
This imbalance wreaks havoc in our spiritual, emotional, and physical lives. Why do you think we all binge on media and food and sleep and compulsively buy things we don’t need and work too much and avoid depth and honesty in our relationships?
It’s easier to create an image that is put-together and strong and pretty and capable. Perhaps we prefer to live a lie because we don’t want to face the truth.
I think this is why many of us find praying to be difficult and confusing. We assume that prayer is supposed to be super formal and religious sounding when, if you read the Psalms, prayer is supposed to be honest conversation with God. When was the last time you had an honest conversation with God? Exulting in his love and stating your complaints and giving him the unedited version of how you feel? When was the last time you told God what you really think?
Why We Need the Psalms
The Psalms are honest reflections about the full range of human emotions and experiences. They’re written by people not afraid to admit their fears and doubts and loneliness and sins and struggles and anger and heartache and confusion and frustration.
We resonate with what they’re saying because we often feel the same way they do and we’re drawn to people who aren’t afraid to speak with surprising frankness and honesty. This kind of honesty is often lacking among Christians. We’re say that we’re “fine” and everything is “going well,” even though it isn’t.
Given the existence of a book like Psalms in the Bible, why do we prefer to pretend we’re okay all the time? Is hiding your sorrows and pretending to rejoice helping you walk in the fullness God has for you? Is it creating depth in your relationships?
The Psalms are God’s way of saying to us his people have been a struggling people for thousands of years, and that he’s not intimidated by our questions and complaints.
A Psalm of Utter Despair
The Psalm we’re going to be looking at today – Psalm 13, is about suffering. More specifically, it’s a lament, or crying out, to God by someone who’s on the verge of utter despair. We don’t know all the circumstances behind King David’s words, and it’s probably better that we don’t because if we knew exactly what he was dealing with, we’d think that this Psalm only applies to people who’re dealing with that. The Psalms are purposefully vague on the historical events they’re referencing so that they can be applied to any situation.
What we do know is that David is feeling things in this Psalm that we have all felt and asking questions we’ve all asked. If you’ve ever wondered if God has forgotten you, felt like God was far away, wondered why there was so much turmoil in your heart and if it was ever going to go away, felt that you can’t endure any longer, that it’d be better if you just weren’t alive, you’re not alone. King David – Israel’s king and a forefather of Jesus Christ, struggled with these same thoughts. The Enemy loves to convince us that we’re the only ones who feel or think or struggle with certain things in order to keep us isolated. He knows that the Bible says that there’s nothing you’re dealing with that we all haven’t dealt with at some point. But he tells us we’re the only ones. He tells us that we’re the only ones with that kind of darkness and despair. But God, in mercy, challenges that lie and through the Psalms tells us that some of the greatest saints were some of the greatest sufferers. Isn’t it refreshing to know that inspired writers of Scripture weren’t perfect and put-together, that they were jars of clay like the rest of us?
As we begin a new year, my hope is that this psalm will encourage greater depth and honesty in our prayer lives, that perhaps for the first time in your walk with Christ, you start talking with him with honesty, that our prayers as individuals and as a church would be quickened by a sense of our utterly desperate need for God. My prayer is that God would make us honest in prayer.
David’s Problem
In Psalm 13, we’re going to see three things: David’s problem, David’s petition, and David’s resolution. David’s problem in verses 1-2 can be summarized like this: David thinks that God has abandoned him and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. He’s on the verge of total despair and he wonders if he can keep going.
Did you notice the question David asks God four times in these two verses: “How long…?” David is growing tired of waiting for God to intervene. “How much longer God do I have to endure this?” “How much longer till you act?” “How much longer till I feel your presence again?” Haven’t we all asked these questions? Have you ever voiced your impatience with God?
Implied in the question is the thought that God has forgotten or abandoned us. We think, “If God was with me then I wouldn’t be feeling this way for so long. So because I do feel this way then God must’ve forgotten about me.” This is how we try to reason our way through the despair and darkness that we feel.
Two Kinds of Darkness
There are two kinds of darkness we all face: internal and external. Internal darkness is when we have no sense of God’s presence, when we think his love and care is absent: “Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?…How long must I…have sorrow in my heart all the day?”
External darkness is when circumstances are not what we want, when we’re mistreated, or when we’re dealt a hand in life that we don’t like. Verse 2, “How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?”
Having internal and external darkness at the same time creates the most intense despair. This is where I think David is in Psalm 13. He’s facing suffering externally and internally, which leads him to this place of utter despair.
David knows how to handle this despair, as we’ll see at the end of the Psalm. But many of us don’t, especially when it comes to internal darkness. Many of us suppress, ignore, minimize, lie about, explain away, and are generally naïve about internal suffering.
One of the reasons for this is that we have wrong expectations about the Christian life. Our expectations control how we process and handle what comes to us, how we deal with the experiences of our lives. If I lead you blindfolded to my study and say, “This is a honeymoon suite,” when I take off the blindfold and you see where you’re at you’ll be disappointed. But if I say, “This is a prison cell,” you might say, “Oh, this isn’t so bad.” Expectations control how we process our circumstances.
We think, or expect, that if we’re a good person, if we go to church, if we’re a Christian, then God won’t let bad things happen to us. But that’s a naïve way of thinking. Jesus was a good person and look what happened to him?
So if we think, “God loves me, therefore I’ll never suffer, I’ll never want for anything, I’ll never have bad days, I’ll never have paralyzing doubts and fears and anxieties, I’ll never have turmoil and sorrow in my heart that seems to never go away,” then we’re setting ourselves up for frustration and despair.
We can do everything right and everything can still go wrong – for a long time. So if we have wrong expectations about following God, then we’re likely to end up in really dark places. We may even end up leaving God altogether.
The psalms are showing us a better way. Honest prayer is one of the means God intends to use to keep us. Honest prayer will buoy and secure our souls. Honest prayer sets us free. Honest prayer heals our hearts. And honest prayer glorifies God because he loves the truth.
One reason many of us struggle with this kind of honesty is because we’re busy assessing everyone else. But as long as we’re looking at everyone else, we’ll find it hard to stop and look in the mirror and be really honest with what we see. Spotting specks in other people’s eyes and ignoring logs in our own is a sure way to have a shallow prayer life and miss deep communion with God. But honest prayer starts to free us to truly love others and rescues us from the bondage of comparing and competing and constantly assessing their lives. This kind of honest prayer to God begins with honestly assessing ourselves, our marriages, our purity, our thoughts, our anger, our conflict, our self-righteousness. We won’t be honest with God until we’re honest with ourselves.
David’s Petition
David was in a dark place. That was his problem. How did he respond? Notice David’s petition in verses 3-4.
Notice first of all that David’s complaints and questions in verses 1-2 led him to prayer, “Consider and answer me, O Lord my God.” His despair and frustration led him to God, not away from God. When the darkness sets in, we’re all tempted to stop praying, stop going to church, stop going to community group, stop hanging out with Christian friends, stop reading our Bibles – which are, of course, the things we need the most in times of darkness. David knew this. His despair led him to God in prayer because he knew that God was his only hope for survival.
In verse 3, he asks God for three things. First, he asks God to “consider him,” or to “Look on him” (NIV). Do you think he asks this because God had misplaced him, that he couldn’t see where he was? No, of course not. But when we aren’t getting the relief that we want, we conclude that God must’ve lost interest in us, that he must not see us anymore.
So David says to God: “Look at me,” “consider me.” He’s saying, “I’m over here trying not to die God, can’t you see me, don’t you care?” Even a plea like this is evidence of faith in David’s life. How so? Because David is crying out to God! He hasn’t concluded that God doesn’t exist and gone about his life; he’s crying out to God because he believes God is there and he knows he has nowhere else to go.
The second thing he asks God is that God would “answer him” (v. 3). David began this Psalm with questions and he wants answers. They weren’t just rhetorical devices. These were legitimate questions that David wanted answers to. It’s okay to want God to answer our questions. But we must understand that God’s answers may not be what we want or may not come when we want.
The third thing David asks God is at the end of verse 3 into verse 4. What does he mean when he says, “light up my eyes”? Bringing light back into the eyes signifies bringing new life back to a person. Strength and joy in life is found in the brightness of our eyes.
Then he says that if this doesn’t happen, he’s going to die. David is in so much darkness that he feels like he’s on the verge of death. He’s saying, “God give me light or I’ll die!” His pain created such great agony that he wondered if he could keep on living. I don’t know if he’s suicidal, but he at least feels close to death. And I think that many of us feel this way, we’re just too afraid to talk about it because we want to preserve an image of strength. But brothers and sisters, if your pain has brought you to a place where you despair of life itself, you’re not alone. Suicidal ideation is common among even the people we assume have it all together. I’ve struggled with this. I know how David feels. And I think many of you do as well. I pray that you would find the courage to talk about these things with a trusted friend, pastor, or counselor. One way to bring light back to our eyes is to bring our thoughts into the light. Honesty brings light.
David asks for God to restore this inward light to the eyes of his soul. He says that if God doesn’t do it, he’ll be as good as dead and his enemies will think that they’ve defeated him and they’ll rejoice and taunt over him (v. 4).
Our great Enemy, Satan himself, rejoices to see Christians who live in perpetual and paralyzing despair because he knows that they won’t have any desire to know or serve Christ. May God “light up our eyes” and take away any reason for our Enemy to boast over us, to think that he’s defeated us. Micah 7:8-9 has repeatedly restored and inspired this kind of hope in me.
David’s Resolution
After David has stated his problem and his petition, he concludes with a resolution (vv. 5-6). Despite his despair, David is resolved to rejoice in the salvation of the Lord. His prayers turn to praises. He’s resolved to worship God in the middle of the darkness.
His sorrow and pain didn’t just disappear between verses 4 and 5. Notice the word “but” at the beginning of verse 5. He’s contrasting what he’s said with what he’s about to say. He’s saying, “Despite all I’ve said in verses 1-4, despite my pain and my sense of abandonment, I’m choosing to trust in God and rejoice in his salvation. I will not let myself stay in the darkness.”
Where does the strength for David’s resolve come from? Verse 5, “I have trusted in your steadfast love.” The term for “steadfast love” is a powerful and rich word. It’s the Hebrew word hesed, and it refers to God’s unchanging, unfailing, and loyal love to his covenant people Israel. It’s the redeeming and specific love that God has for his people.
As David remembers the mercy and love of God toward the people of Israel, how he loved them and redeemed them and provided for them despite their sin, David’s heart rejoices. God’s saving love toward Israel was why he could trust in God while being frustrated with God.
David’s trust in God’s love even created joy, “My heart shall rejoice” (v. 5). And his joy led to singing, “I will sing to the Lord” (v. 6). Singing is one of the primary means that God has given us to express our joy in God’s love. Singing in church is a result of trusting and rejoicing in the love of God.
Looking to the Past for Strength in the Present
David’s confidence in God was rooted in things that happened in the past. Verse 6, “I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.” God’s “bountiful” dealings with David in the past are enabling him to worship in the present, despite the darkness he’s in. David is looking backwards to God’s acts of grace in the past in order to find strength to face his present.
We also must look to what God has done in the past in order to find strength to face the present. When the dark days seem to never end, we must remember the dark day when the Son of God was put to death for our sins. On that day, Jesus was forgotten by God so that we might be remembered by him. God hid his face from his Son so that he might shine his face on us. Jesus’ enemies prevailed over him so that our enemies of sin, Satan, and death might not prevail over us. Jesus slept the sleep of death in order that our eyes might be brightened eternally.
Because of what Jesus did, we must never think that God has forgotten us. We may feel that he has abandoned us, that he has stopped loving and caring for us, that he has given us over to our enemies, but we must not let our feelings have the last word. We must be resolved, like David, to remember the steadfast love of the Lord, to remember that, in Jesus, God has dealt bountifully with us.
The cross of Jesus Christ is God’s way of telling you every day, “I have not forgotten about you.” If you’re feeling any of what David felt, may God give you grace to be honest with him and with others, strength to run to him and not away from him, and resolve to trust and rejoice in his love. May 2023 be the year when you start talking honestly with God.
Prayer is Like Breathing
John Onwuchekwa, in his book Prayer, talks about the turning point in his prayer life. Just before he planted the church he pastored, his thirty-two-year-old brother died suddenly. There was no explanation, no cause of death, nothing conclusive in the autopsy, no foul play. He was gone, just like that. He said it was like the air was knocked out of him and he couldn’t breathe.
John said that for the first time in his life he understood that honest prayer was like breathing. Listen to how he describes the way his pain changed his prayers, “My filter vanished as my tongue was unhinged in prayer. I was both shocked and relieved, ashamed and angry at the words coming out of my mouth. I called God a liar. He seemed cruel and uncaring. Then in the same breath, I asked him to shower me with grace. I felt disdain, anger, hatred. And I told him. I couldn’t help but tell him. It all just kept coming out. Pain felt like a truth serum that forced me to confess all of my unworthy thoughts of him. And he took it. Every ounce of it. He corrected my negative view, not with words of rebuke but words of consolation. While I was drowning in sorrow, he emptied my oxygen tank to force me to come up for air. When I came up to him, I wasn’t met with the cold shoulder I deserved, but with open arms. Whatever I was doing before wasn’t praying. It was formal, cold, sterile, rehearsed, and rote. For the first time in my life, I felt like I knew what it was to pray, to commune with God. When I offered the cares of my heart to God – every one of them – I met a God who wasn’t scared to take those cares on as I was to share them. God transformed my brother’s final breaths into some of my first. As a result, my whole life pivoted…(I finally understood that) prayer is like breathing.”[1]
“Pain was like a truth serum,” making all his true thoughts come out. God intends to use our pain to draw us in closer and take us deeper with him. Our prayers often feel “formal, cold, sterile, rehearsed, and rote” because we aren’t actually talking honestly with God. We’re role-playing, pretending to be something we’re not, putting our best foot forward, when all the while God knows exactly where we are and wants to meet us there with open arms, not stern looks and words of rebuke. When has God ever desired religious duty over truth?
This can be the year you start talking with God like David in the psalms, talking to him through prayer like your life depended on it, realizing that prayer is like breathing, understanding that your pain is exactly where God wants to meet you and that pretending all is well when it’s not is going to continue to suffocate your soul. Maybe this is the year that God empties your oxygen tank of self-reliance so that you’ll come up for air in his presence.
[1]John Onwuchekwa, Prayer: How Praying Together Shapes the Church (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2018), 21-2.