OLord, God of my salvation, when, at night, I cry out in your presence, let my prayer come before you; incline

your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; I am like those who have no help, like those forsaken among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom you remember nomore, for they are cut off from your hand. You have put me in the depths of the Pit, in the regions dark and deep. Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and you overwhelm me with all your waves. You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a thing of horror to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape; my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call on you, OLord; I spread out my hands to you. Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise you? Is your steadfast love declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon? Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness? But I, OLord, cry out to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you. OLord, why do you cast me off? Why do you hide your face from me? Wretched and close to death from my youth up, I suffer your terrors; I am desperate. Your wrath has swept over me; your dread assaults destroy me. They surround me like a ood all day long; from all sides they close in on me. You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me; my companions are in darkness. The word of God for the people of God. Who would sing this? Ive been trying to imagine a voice. I know theres a version of this psalm sung by Danielle Rose and its very sweet and very nice and appropriately depressing. But its not the right voice for me: I want a voice that knows the blues. I want a voice that wells up from the dark night of the soul.

I want a voice that knows all of the sorrow the world can bring. I want a voice that knows what it is to buffet the heavy waves. I want a voice that knows what it is to lose sight of shore. I want a voice that can cry over the dead child of the stockyards hunky. I want a voice that has caught when the throat chokes. I want a voice that can cry out: O people! I want a voice that sorrow calls its own, that can say: You for your sorrow, and I for mine. I want a voice that knows the blues. I want a voice that goes to God in the blues. Listen to the psalm. This is not a psalm of distance. This is a psalm of closeness: O Lord... I cry out in your presence... you overwhelm me with your waves... every day I call on you... in the morning my prayer comes before you. This is not a psalm of distance. This isnt the psalm of someone who has wandered into the wilderness and is left wondering: Why am I so alone? This is the psalm of someone who is up in Gods face, who comes before God, who is, if anything, too close to God. This is the psalm of someone who is utterly and painfully surrounded by God and overcome by Gods wrath. I want a voice that worships. I want a voice that, surrounded by wrath does not cry out: You bastard! I want a voice that, surrounded by wrath does not scream: Where is your justice? I want a voice that, surrounded by wrath does not sob: Where is your mercy? I want a voice that, surrounded by wrath, says: O Lord, God of my salvation. I pray; my prayer comes before you in the morning. Every day I call on you. I spread out my hands to you. You work wonders. But do you work them for the dead? You are praised. But do the shades praise you? Youre love is steadfast. But is that declared in the grave? You are faithful. But is that preached in Abaddon? You do wonders. But is that known in the darkness? Your help is saving. But is that known in the land of forgetfulness?

I want a voice that knows the blues. I want a voice that knows the blues because the blues are here. The blues are in the Bible. Let me say that again: the blues are in the Bible. And whats more: the blues are in a psalm. And whats even more: the blues are in a psalm of worship. Now I know that can make us uncomfortable. How can we come before God and just... cry? How can we come before God and beg to be heard? How can we come before God and complain of being overcome by something we can only assume to be wrath? How can we come before God and ask why were alone? How can we come before God and complain of the terrors that surround us? How can we come before God and worship in our tears? More: how can we come to worship and place the blame for all of that squarely at Gods feet? Dont we know that we worship a God who loves us all, a God who is love? Dont we know that joy cometh in the morning? Dont we know that if we ask, it will be given to us; if we seek, we shall nd; if we knock, the door will be opened? And to all that I say: the blues are the Bible. Sometimes we go to God because we are thankful for all that we have been given. Sometimes we go to God because we need to praise majesty. Sometimes we go to God because are in awe of creation and its creator. And sometimes we cry out to the God of our salvation because we need saving. Theres an admission there; and its an admission we arent always good at making. I dont mean that we cant talk about salvation. Im sure some of us have difculty with that - who wants to admit that they sin? Who wants to admit that they neglect the widow and the orphan? Who wants to admit they oppress the alien? Who wants to admit that they deny justice to the poor? But, we can say we need salvation from sin, we need our debts paid, we need our trespasses forgiven. But were not always good at admitting that sin is more than a list of things done and things left undone; that when we say we are sinful we mean we are broken. We are not always good at admitting that were alone. Were not always good at admitting that we feel unloved. Were not always good at admitting that were drowning in an ocean while people have an exhilarating time on the shore. Were not always good at admitting when we are powerless to overcome the distance between us and being alright - not being happy, not being joyful - just being alright. And thats an admission we need to be able to make. We need to be able to admit when we are surrounded by people and yet feel alone. We need to be able to admit when we are surrounded by God and yet feel abandoned. We need to be able to admit when - in the midst of the business of life and social circles and family and work and, yes, even church - we feel forsaken. We need to be able to admit that we are broken.

We need to be able to admit that we need more than our sins wiped clean, our debts paid, our trespasses overlooked; we need to be able to admit that we need to be made whole. We need to remember that when we come to worship we come to a church; not a club of the righteous but a hospital for sinners. We come to the Lords table not as the elite welcomed in to a ve star restaurant but as people who hunger and thirst for good news. We come to the altar of God not as a holy people but as broken people yearning to be made whole. And in the blues we can do that. In this psalm we can do that. This psalm is a gift. Now, I wanted to come to you this morning with a brilliant idea about this psalm. I wanted to come to you with Augustines interpretation that this psalm is a prophecy of Christ on the Cross. I wanted to talk to you about being the ones who declare Gods steadfast love in Abaddon and work wonders in the darkness. And I tried. I tried pulling out all of the biblical studies tricks I could nd. I tried to work theological wizardry. But heres what it comes down to: This psalm is a gift. You have probably had a time in your life, when this psalm would have come in handy. If you havent had a time in your life when this psalm would have come in handy, you will. Im sorry, but its true. In fact: even if youve had a time in your life when this psalm wouldve come in handy, you will probably have another one. I know Ive had those times. I imagine I will again. I have had times of utter brokenness. I have had times when I am at the end of my rope. I have had times when I have felt completely forsaken. I have had times when God couldve appeared to me and I wouldve had no idea what to say or what to do. I have had times when prayers did not come. Ill bet you have, too. Ill bet there have been times, even if they lasted all of a moment, when you wanted a voice. Ill bet there have been times when you have thought, in your innermost being, in your heart of hearts: I want a voice that wells up from the dark night of the soul. I want a voice that knows all of the sorrow the world can bring. I want a voice that knows what it is to buffet the heavy waves. I want a voice that knows what it is to lose sight of shore. I want a voice that can cry over the dead child of the stockyards hunky.

I want a voice that has caught when the throat chokes. I want a voice that can cry out: O people! I want a voice that sorrow calls its own, that can say: You for your sorrow, and I for mine. I want a voice that knows the blues. And to that I say: the blues are in the Bible. God has given us words to say. Now this is important: our whole faith is not in this psalm. There are resurrections yet to come, and we are assured that they will come - after all, we can cry out with condence to the God of our salvation because we know that salvation is on the way. But before those resurrections, in the midst of our need, God has given us words to say: OLord, God of my salvation, when, at night, I cry out in your presence, let my prayer come before you; incline your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; I am like those who have no help, like those forsaken among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom you remember nomore, for they are cut off from your hand. You have put me in the depths of the Pit, in the regions dark and deep. Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and you overwhelm me with all your waves. You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a thing of horror to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape; my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call on you, OLord; I spread out my hands to you. Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise you? Is your steadfast love declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon? Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness? But I, OLord, cry out to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you. OLord, why do you cast me off? Why do you hide your face from me? Wretched and close to death from my youth up,

I suffer your terrors; I am desperate. Your wrath has swept over me; your dread assaults destroy me. They surround me like a ood all day long; from all sides they close in on me. You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me; my companions are in darkness. The word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.