HOW MUCH MORE?

The "crowns" on our neighbor's garbage cans
are good "proof" of the overnight snow dump

After a nose-reddening, finger-numbing January cold snap, we knew “it” was coming. The snow. And even though the weather forecasts warned us of a “dump,” it still was an “I can't believe this” event when we woke up and saw nearly two more feet of snow outside. (Thirty miles away, closer to the mountains, Bavarian-themed Leavenworth residents opened their doors to three feet of “white.”) Bundling up and grabbing snow shovels for a strenuous digging out as snow continued to fall, our thoughts were “How much more?”

Later, resting from a session of shoveling, I thought of another “how much more” series of questionings I'd recently read in Psalm 13. Actually, in my translation, it was “How long,” and the speaker was David, who was weary of trying to keep one step ahead of his enemy King Saul. “How long--” David asked repeatedly (vv. 1-2):

*Would God Forget David and hide His face?

*Would David wrestle with doubts and sorrow weighing his heart?

*Would the enemy seem to be winning this conflict?

No surprise, God has heard a lot of frustrated, exasperated questions--“how much more?” or “how long?” The prophet Habakkuk, watching the unraveling of his nation, asked, “How long, O Lord, must I call for help but you do not listen?” (Habakkuk 1:2). Even in the “Revelation” John had of future events, Christian martyrs waiting in heaven asked, “How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” (Rev. 6:10).

OUR HOW-LONGS?

In our times, whose “how long” questions are likely to be:

*How long will we endure the pandemic and all its frustrations and sorrows?

*How long before we can simply be with people, and our kids go to school in a “normal” way?

*How long before the different opinions people hold about the pandemic won't matter anymore?

Or, more sobering:

*How long will we grieve those who go to eternity without having Jesus as their Savior?

David's Psalm 13 is a brief six verses, but it packs a lot of punch. After his honest, unhappy “how long” questions, followed by reminders that he'd appreciate God's answer, he articulates what he knows to be true:

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me. (vv. 5-6)

Depth by porch

You might outline this psalm as “questioning,” “complaining,” and finally “affirming.” And that's a good description of how our faith grows. The dailiness of life's deadlines and dead-ends, defeats and denials, may leave us reeling like we're buried under two feet of snow. But there's the “but”--the hope.

The “rest of the story” of our snow-shoveling was that we got unsolicited help for the task. And even though we went to bed with sore muscles, we got through it—enough to literally “get through” to the street and mailbox. A week later, the snowpack had melted by half.

Not all our “how long” questions are answered so quickly. I've faced difficulties that have gone on for years. Even though I wish I could “shovel them away,” God allows them to remain in my life. Because—as the psalm emphasizes—they teach me to trust in His unfailing love (v. 13). And maybe also (v. 6) to sing praises to Him. (And I don't mean the pop holiday song, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful...” even though it was!)