Above is a link to Psalm 42. Though not expressly written, most scholars agree that this is a song written by David, and many place it during the time that he is in exile, running from Saul, and cut off from the Temple.
There’ve been some fairly popular modern songs written around the first couple of verses in this song; I remember singing one of them from the hymnal. The songs in themselves may or may not sing of something true and right, but I think they’ve missed the point of this song wholesale: if we read on, David is talking about extreme anguish.
He has been cut off from connection with the worship of God and the fellowship of worshippers, and though he has not been totally “put out” from God (and gives no evidence of believing that to be true, contrarily still directing his cries and prayers toward God and His dwelling place), he is disconnected by force from the personal and communal worship in the Temple. He has dined on his tears (v. 3) day and night, so grieved that he foregoes food and water. But then, as we read on, we see one of the reasons why David was such an awesome man of faith, why he was called “a man after God’s own heart.” David shows himself, spiritually, to be a bad mammajamma, or if you’re Matt Chandler, you would say “this is why he’s varsity:” David begins speaking the Gospel to his own heart!
Look at who David is addressing in verse five: his soul. If we follow his logic here, he’s moved from expression of deep anguish to remembrance of connection with God, and immediately turns on his downcast soul: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” He starts doubting his doubt! That’s evidence of “varsity” league, my friend: rather than wallowing in the despair, he puts his own trouble and dismay on trial. And look at what he combats it with: remembrance. Remembrance, not only of “good times” in the past, because there is no guarantee that he will have “good times” in the future, but remembrance of the One who never fails: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.” This is David’s chorus.
Faith is less an object of the heart, and more of the mind, and less an object of the mind, and more of experience. When we can’t explain the reason we have been commanded or in questions of God’s nature, we so often cop out by shrugging out the phrase “we just have to have faith.” But we grossly misinterpret what Christ means by having “the faith of a child” (Luke 18:17). I’ve watched my nephew jump into his mother’s arms from the trampoline a hundred times; the kid doesn’t hesitate. Why, then, does he confidently jump into her arms without a moment’s thought? Because she has caught him every single time: he has faith that she will catch him. Not once in Scripture are we ever commanded to have blind faith; on the contrary, just as in Psalm 42, we are called to remember who God is and what He has done, and to take faith in Him. We have a firm foundation for our faith in Him because He’s got a few thousand years worth of a perfect track record of being faithful that we can look to and say, “He has never failed – He will not fail here.” God keeps His word, period, and thus our faith is founded in Him; ergo, faith is not a “feeling” or even a choice only, but is vouchsafe obedience in the One who never fails – it is the culmination and natural result of knowing Him. Inversely, lack of faith is a libel on His name and character, and betrays a lack of knowing Him.
Patty and I are wrestling with this now: we’ve heard the calling for us to uproot and move to Dallas so that I can be equipped at seminary and she can be plugged in and flourish and blossom in her calling as a counselor. This means leaving behind family and friends we love dearly, in a place we have grown to love by God’s hand shaping our hearts. Even though this may only be for a season, the cost is the same as if it were for the rest of our lives: everything we hold on to in this world. However, as great as the cost is, and as sharply bent we are to fix our gaze on the “price tag” of obeying, David has words for us: “remember.” Remember, O my soul, how much sweeter He is than all the things that He has made. Remember, O my soul, that the path in which He leads me is pointed back to Him, so that following Him gets me more of Him. Remember, O my soul, that He disciplines me like a child, and that at times, “no” is better for my soul than “yes.” Remember, O my soul, that I have died to myself and the life I live is no longer mine, but His who lives in me. Remember, O my soul, that He is good. “Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.”
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