In football parlance, this is a psalm of two halves. Or maybe three.
As a sufferer from depression myself, I would say that verses 1 to 9 suggest that the psalmist is in the grip of some form of depression: “When I was in distress, I sought the Lord… and I would not be comforted.” (verse 2), “… I groaned… and my spirit grew faint” (verse 3), “… I was too troubled to speak” (verse 4). Nothing, it seems, can alleviate his mental anguish – not even doing the right thing and turning to the Lord. This is the nature of depression: an overwhelming sense of helplessness and distress that sometimes even the power of prayer does not seem to touch.
So deep is the distress of the Psalm-writing dude – Asaph, apparently – that he even begins to wonder whether God has given up on his people, whether he has shut up shop and gone into retirement. In an almost comical paradox, he questions whether God’s unfailing love has… er… failed. A paradox indeed because if God’s love has “vanished”, it is not unfailing, whereas if God’s love is unfailing, it can’t go out of business.
[If I may interrupt myself rudely for a moment, this phrase, or its equivalent (which occurs over 30 times throughout the Bible, mainly in the Psalms) is just about my favourite in the whole Bible – not just the words, which are easily skipped over, but the concept. Which is mind-blowing.
It is mind-blowing because the word ‘unfailing’ is one that has limited application in this world in which we live. Can you imagine the unfailing light bulb – no more groping around in the dark and risking electrocution or a broken neck as you balance precariously on a three-legged stool and three volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica? Or the unfailing battery – no more disappointment as your youngest son’s Christmas gift of a battery-operated death ray blaster depletes your entire stock of AAs before the end of Christmas Day. Or, better still, the unfailing car? The unfailing relationship – marriages that outlast the honeymoon? The unfailing politician? (Too much?) When I was a kid my Mum and Dad gave a fantastic watch: it was self-winding, shockproof, waterproof, unbreakable. I lost it.
We’re just not used to the concept. Everything has an end – runs out, dies, fails, perishes, becomes obsolete or breaks. Not God’s love, though; that is unending, unbreakable, un-losable, infallible. Unfailing.]
The second half of the psalm kicks off in verse 10 and it heralds a remarkable transformation in mood. “I know,” says Asaph (more or less) in one of those moments of realisation like the one that had Archimedes leaping from his bath like a scalded cat, “I’ll think about all the good things God has done and maybe life will look a little brighter.” What he actually says is: “I will remember the deeds of the Lord, yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds” (verses 11-12) but had he been around a few millennia later, he might have launched into a chorus or two of that old and slightly twee but irritatingly catchy song (trust me, it’s been in my head all morning) that goes, “Count your blessings, name them one by one… [tum ti tum ti tum] and it will surprise you what your God has done.” I don’t want to stray into triteness so I’ll come clean; I really struggle to do this; I don’t seem to be able to tell my brain what to think and change established thought patterns – that’s probably the depression at work – but it worked for the psalmist and if you have a “normal” brain I hope it’ll work for you.
The third half of the Psalm – extra time, if you like– is the proof of the metaphorical pudding (a bit like real pudding but not as fattening). With the benefit of a mind conditioned to remember and meditate on the past mighty acts of the Lord, Asaph launches into a song of praise;
“Your ways, God, are holy. What god is as great as our God? You are the God who performs miracles; you display your power among the peoples. With your mighty arm you redeemed your people, the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.”
He goes on. Writhing waters, depths convulsing, clouds pouring down water, heavens resounding with thunder, lightning lighting up the world, the earth trembling and quaking: all speak of God’s almighty delivering power at the parting of the Red Sea where the Egyptians all took a much-needed bath.
I once heard someone describe this psalm as the antidote to depression. In my own experience this is not the case – not when it comes to depression with a capital “D” anyway. But when we are feeling the burdens of life weighing heavily upon us, when the waves are rolling over us and we’re in danger of going down for the last time, when we face trials, terrors, tests and temptations, let’s remind ourselves of what God has done in the past and remember that what he has done in the past he is just as able – and willing – to do again.
We have an almighty God. Let’s trust him.
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