I
was drawn to these psalms when I experienced major life disruptions and turmoil
with emotional and physical consequences. A man I loved rejected me. Several
times I faced adjustments in moving far away from home. My parents’
months-apart deaths and resulting estate tasks overwhelmed me. Other times of
despair came with a serious car wreck, care-giving ailing in-laws, and coping
with the “empty nest.”
But
recently, as I reflected on both psalms (which are linked in original Hebrew
manuscripts), I found I’d missed how that despondent query ended with the salve
of a hopeful “yet”: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior
and my God.”
The
psalmist reveals several possible reasons for this downheartedness. One is
spiritual opposition. Non-believers scoff, “Where is your God?” (42:3, also
implied in 43:1-2). He misses familiar ways of worshipping with others (42:4).
Scholars think he’s homesick—possibly displaced from Jerusalem
to someplace near Mt. Hermon and the headwaters of the Jordan (42:6, 7). Yet even there he
realizes that the place’s natural beauty (“deep calls to deep,” 42:7)) is
nature’s music drawing him to the omnipresent God. I recalled how getting out
to a place of beauty refreshed me when I felt down.
But
the greater salve is embedded in the psalms’ names of God. He is “the living
God” (42:2), true and able. He is the personal “my God” (42:5, 11: 43:4), He is
powerful covenant God known as “the LORD” (v. 8). This name (rendered in small
capitals in English Bible translations) is so holy to Jews that they will not
speak or write it. We know it as YHWH or “Jehovah.” The psalmist also voices
submission to “God of my life” (42:8). He prays to the solid, safe “God my
rock” (42:9) and “God, my stronghold” (43:2). From his despair, he appeals to “God,
my joy and my delight” (43:4).
Even
before studying this psalm, I had begun a practice of meditating on the names
and attributes of God. When problems
kept me awake at night, I started going through the alphabet, recalling the
names of God that gave me courage and encouragement. I considered Him as the “Almighty One,” my
Burden-bearer, my Compassionate Comforter—and on and on. By “Z,” peace and
sleep would usually come. The practice reminded me that God, in the fullness of
His deity, is far greater than any problem I might face.
The
last part of the psalms’ thrice-repeated refrain also reminded me of God’s care
in difficult experiences: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my
Savior and my God.” The King James version renders that last part, “the health
of my countenance, and my God.” The idea is that the God who lifts our saddened
faces to show us His profound love is indeed the One who wants to save us from
this despondency. He may use medical professionals to aid us out to health.
For
me, the refrain’s key word is “hope.”
The apostle Paul reminded us that “we rejoice in hope of the glory of
God” (Romans 5:2). He emphasized that life’s tribulations can lead us, in God’s
plan, to hope that never disappoints (5:5).
Psalms
42 and 43 are no longer the “despondency” psalms for me. Yes, they describe someone who’s
downhearted. But the psalms’ refrains
don’t leave me stuck on “downcast.” They
remind me that, in life’s spiritual autumns and winters, to hang on to hope.
They assure me that it’s okay to thirst for God and seek a deeper relationship
with Him. When I admit my need, He will lead me to His waters of spiritual
refreshment. Thus renewed, I will again praise Him, my Savior and my God.