Psalm 73
There is a song by Amanda Cook that came out last year called Heroes. It’s about the overcoming hope of Christ, but the part that gets me every time is this line that goes “You’ve taught my feet to dance upon disappointment, and I will worship.” I am overwhelmed by the possibility of that every time I hear it, so naturally, I’ve had that song on repeat for about a week now, hoping those words will soak into my bones and be true.
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I felt the weight of my disappointments again this weekend and was being overwhelmed by them. I wanted to fight, but I was too tired, physically and spiritually, and I didn’t have the energy to combat every thought that forced it’s way into my sleepy mind. I kept trying to rest in what the Lord has told me. That he sees. That he cares. It is a good resting place. The ache doesn’t leave as I lay in that place licking my wounds, but it is a good resting place nonetheless - a safe one - and those are hard to find. I’ve been trying to learn the balance of aching and resting and trusting and worshiping, and how they can all be true and work together at the same time. It’s difficult, and I suspect often that I am doing it wrong, but I have to trust that the Holy Spirit is still completing his good work in me.
I read an article this weekend on Psalms 73 and breathed a sigh of relief. I steeled myself as I read the title, preparing my already bruised heart for a scolding, but what I found there was compassion and “me too.” Envy of others’ success and bargaining with God, as it turns out, is not new. Even the Psalmists in the old testament were familiar with this. I won’t rehash the whole article, but you should go read it if you have the time. The gist is this: We turn to Psalms 73 and find a man in despair and confusion, unable to make sense of why the wicked are flourishing. It’s 2 + 2 = 5 and the math doesn’t add up. He expresses his frustration openly. He is envious, angry, and indignant as he cries out to the Lord. There is a twinge of entitlement and self pity in this text. Why are the unrighteous experiencing this success? Why are the wicked prospering? Why has all his good work lead to naught?
I read Psalms 73 and see myself all over it.
“All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence.” Haven’t we all felt that? Haven’t I said that exact same thing in secret prayers to the Lord in the dark of the night?
The psalmist wrestles with this, but he doesn’t stop there. After some time of trying in vain to understand, he draws near to the Lord. In verse 17 the psalmist turns and confesses “When I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God...”
With his eyes fixed on the Lord, he could begin to see the folly and the temporary nature of the success of the wicked. He could begin to look in hope to our promised future. The scriptures proclaim it and it has proven to be true. As we seek the Lord, our pain is softened, our hearts are comforted. It may appear that 2+2=5 in the present, but we can see that in eternity, 2+2 still equals 4. Our hope is Christ and he will bring our reward in the total restoration of the world - when heaven and earth collide in a stunning and brilliant rescue, the one where all sad things come untrue. But I’ve never been very good at abstracts. How do you grab hold of something so ethereal?
The answer is so easy, and so very hard at the same time -- He will help us. Verse 23 landed softly on my heart and slowly washed over my despair, leaving behind a better rest that felt more like peace. Maybe it will for you, too.
“When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast towards you.
Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand."
He doesn’t leave us. In the midst of our confusion and frustration, he stays right beside us. Even while we act like a stubborn ox, He grabs hold of our hand and leads us gently through the hard path. The path that shows us that our strength is Him and our portion is Christ. He’s not waiting for us to get everything figured out, he’s just saying, “Come now, let me show you the way."
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I sat in church this weekend, feeling the sting of my circumstances and seeing no change in sight, but I could hear the Lord calling “I love you as you are, rest in me.” I prayed that the comfort I found in him would satisfy, and that my eyes would be fixed on him. I know all too well that when I leave that sanctuary, temporary comforts will look more appealing and sound more promising, and that the prospering of the unrighteous would feel like betrayal again. I prayed that he would not let me be deceived in those things. To feel the ache and not go running to the nearest numbing agent.
I read that article, and turned to Psalms 73 and resonated with the Psalmists closing words.
“For me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.”
I’m not saying the change is instant or drawing near to the Lord takes the hurt away. I’ve found the opposite is true, actually, that healing is a slow, exhausting, painful, infuriating process. But underneath the shadow of the almighty there is rest, and there is healing, if we would be content to do the work of it.
And in the meantime, he walks with us, holding our right hand and saying “Come now, child, I am not finished yet. Stay with me, I will still teach you to dance.”