I waited patiently for the Lord// He inclined and heard my cry// He brought me up out of the pit// Out of the mire and clay// I will sing, sing a new song// I will sing, sing a new song

“40”, by U2. (Songwriters Adam Clayton, David Evans, Laurence Mullen, Paul David Hewson)

A very dear, dear friend recently checked in to lament the fatigue of Covid and our tribal politics. She was done. Done. The lament of Psalm 13: “How long O Lord?” The psalms are a great tonic any day, but very much so this day. Done.

As the songbook of the Bible, the Psalter is the grammar that forms our faithful speech for worship and prayer which then sets the pattern for how we interact with all of life. Calvin, as he so often does, said it best: “Moreover although The Psalms are replete with all the precepts which serve to frame our life to every part of holiness, piety, and righteousness, yet they will principally teach and train us to bear the cross; and the bearing of the cross is a genuine proof of our obedience, since by doing this, we renounce the guidance of our own affections and submit ourselves entirely to God, leaving him to govern us, and to dispose of our life according to his will, so that the afflictions which are the bitterest and most severe to our nature, become sweet to us, because they proceed from him.” (from John Calvin, “Commentary on Psalms – Volume 1). Indeed.

A couple of years ago, my pastor was preaching through the Psalter, teaching and leading the congregation into a deeper, transformative experience with God’s prayer book. He sought out stories from his flock to bring understanding and tangibility to words that might seem distant and abstract. I was one he asked to reflect upon Psalm 30 and I thought that I would share those comments with you in prayerful hope that if you are also “done,” you may turn to the psalms for the renewal and the hope that lays within.

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Psalm 30

A psalm. A song for the temple dedication. Of David.

I exalt you, Lord, because you pulled me up; you didn’t let my enemies celebrate over me. Lord, my God, I cried out to you for help, and you healed me. Lord, you brought me up from the grave, brought me back to life from among those going down to the pit.

You who are faithful to the Lord, sing praises to him; give thanks to his holy name! His anger lasts for only a second, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may stay all night, but by morning, joy!

When I was comfortable, I said, “I will never stumble.”  Because it pleased you, Lord, you made me a strong mountain.

But then you hid your presence. I was terrified. I cried out to you, Lord. I begged my Lord for mercy: “What is to be gained by my spilled blood, by my going down into the pit? Does dust thank you? Does it proclaim your faithfulness? Lord, listen and have mercy on me! Lord, be my helper!”

You changed my mourning into dancing. You took off my funeral clothes         and dressed me up in joy so that my whole being might sing praises to you and never stop. Lord, my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

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“This morning I can stand here and sincerely proclaim these verses from the 30^th psalm:

I exalt you, Lord, because you pulled me up; you didn’t let my enemies celebrate over me. Lord, my God, I cried out to you for help, and you healed me. Lord, you brought me up from the grave, brought me back to life from among those going down to the pit.

That has not always been the case. As a young lad of nine, I remember being mesmerized by the preaching of Rev. Dick Morledge, Senior Pastor of the 1^st Presbyterian Church of Bakerstown, Pennsylvania and I found myself thinking – that’s what I want to do: it’s where I want to stand. Roughly ten years later during my junior year at NYU, my father was passing through the city on his way to business in some far eastern destination and we had the chance to grab a steak in the Oak Room Bar at the Plaza Hotel. Our conversation danced around lots of things (I hadn’t been home in almost a year), but at one point he kept saying I belonged in ministry, meaning the pulpit. Instead, in the words of one my favorite modern psalmists, Joni Mitchell, I chose to go chasing after golden Reggie with the apple of temptation and a diamond snake wrapped around my arm.

When I was comfortable, I said, “I will never stumble.” And when you fast forward 20+ years from that dinner, I was indeed standing very comfortably, but not on a strong mountain built by the Lord. It was on a mountain of self-righteousness, greed and pride: a mountain of quicksand.

But then you hid your presence. I was terrified. The sands of that mountain began to crumble and wash away with the miscarriage of twins, the death of our daughter Sarah and several more miscarriages. The blessing of Skylar was followed by another miscarriage and then the miscarriage of career judgment and the miscarriage of my soul. I didn’t simply stumble: it was a full-fledged face plant onto the sidewalk of hell. The Lord finally got the attention of this thick headed Swede via the Honorable DeBevoise.

I cried out to you, Lord. I begged my Lord for mercy:“What is to be gained by my spilled blood, by my going down into the pit? I cried out –  turning to the psalms in particular for words in prayer that I could not form. From Psalm 3: “Lord I have so many enemies” to Psalm 13, “How long will you forget me Lord” to Psalm 23 and Psalm 46’s sense of presence and reassurance; to Psalm 64’s call for the destruction of those many enemies. I prayed the psalms of lament and despair – 17, 28, 31, 59, 61, 77, 102 as well as Psalms 25, 86, 119 and 123, asking for guidance and instruction. In Psalms 62, and the psalms of ascents, I prayed for a desire to trust the Lord more. And I prayed for restoration in Psalms 85, 106, 107 and 137. I prayed as our psalmist does this morning: “Lord listen and have mercy on me! Lord be my helper”

And he did – His anger lasts for only a second, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may stay all night, but by morning, joy! Our Lord God answered those prayers sending Beth and Skylar and I many angels – several saints individually from this church and all of you sitting here this morning, as well as many who are no longer with us. Our chapter of the body of Christ reached out and because it pleased you, Lord, you made me a strong mountain. His sheepdogs – you know those two from Psalm 23  – goodness and mercy – nipped at my heels hard enough to get me to turn around and gave me a second chance to listen to the voice that has been calling me for more than 50 years.

I have been restored and now stand on a strong mountain. I have been restored to community and restored in my soul; called now to seminary and a life of witness to God’s great mercy and power. I was given the chance to taste and see God’s bounty: blessings that money and materiality will never accomplish. They are blessings that are true and available to all that call his name. They are blessings that we share with our community at large when we go out from here and be the light in everything we say, in everything we do and in everything that we are. Love is not a program and it is not a duty: it is the food and drink of resurrection people and as resurrection people, when we share that food with all we meet, great things happen. As someone that has been fed in this way, I can testify as our psalmist does –   You have changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my funeral clothes and dressed me up in joy so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever. You who are faithful to the Lord sing praises to him and give thanks to his holy name. “

Done. Amen.

“Whenever the Psalter is abandoned, an incomparable treasure is lost for the Christian church. With its recovery will come unexpected power –

Dietrich Bonhoeffer