There’s Always Hope — Psalm 77

Introduction

I’ve had the opportunity to go on a few African safaris, and all you hear about are the Big Five game animals. They’re the ones you want to see. They’re the lion, leopard, elephant, cape buffalo, and rhino — since I know some of you will be wondering the whole service. Each of them are known to be aggressive toward humans, and each of them will make your heart skip if when you have an encounter. Just last year, we had an adolescent elephant bluff charge our open air vehicle, and it was like watching a tornado come at you. There was nothing we could have done.

Over the next five weeks, I want us to look at a different, though just as aggressive, Big Five. They feel like predators seeking to ruin, or even end, our lives. That is, over the next five weeks, we’re going to talk together about the five most common problems people are seeking to resolve in counseling: depression, grief, anger, lust, and anxiety. These are experiences that are common to the human experience that no one wants to talk about.

God’s Word

We’re going to start by looking at the vicious predator — depression. Depression is less like a lion and leopard and more like a boa constrictor. It slowly tightens itself around until you can’t breathe and you see no escape. Depression is a deep, personal experience of the world’s curse. You may be depressed like Jonah because of sin in your life. You may be depressed like Elijah because nothing in your life seems to go right. Or, you may be depressed like Jesus because the sin of others has brought consequence into your life. So, what I aim to do is not to get into why you individually may struggle, but rather A Christian Response to Depression: (Headline) no matter the specifics.

“Express” yourself.

Psalm 77:1–9 “I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” Then my spirit made a diligent search: “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah”

The reformers believed that the Psalms were at the core of a well-rounded Christian experience. They teach us the nature of the Christian life and how to express it. They’re filled with joy and grief, shouting and whispering, singing and moaning. So, they give you the expectation that life is going to be up and down, boring and exciting, sad and joyful, and they give you the permission to experience each of those most fully — responding with the proper emotion.

Circumstances have done for the Psalmist here what circumstances do. They have taken a turn for the worse. His life has gone off the tracks in some unexpected way. “The day of (his) trouble” has come, a dark night of the soul. You see, the pursuit of happiness is one that will always disappoint. Americans aren’t an exception. Christians aren’t an exception. You aren’t an exception. This is the human experience.

Express yourself “freely.”

He “cries aloud”. He prays and prays. He “stretches his hand out” toward God continually in hope that God will change his circumstances and lift him from the abyss. He does so “without wearying”. He’s relentless in his pursuit of relief. If he lived today, he would’ve pursued every doctor, tried every cure, listened to every podcast, and prayed every prayer. But, his “soul refuses to be comforted.” Nothing works. And, this is the height of despair, isn’t it? When everything and everyone seems to promises relief — including God himself — but you find none. “My soul refuses to be comforted” is an interesting way to phrase it, isn’t it? He seems frustrated with himself, yelling at his inner man, “Why can’t you just snap out of it?”

This is depression. It’s gnawing misery. It’s consistent sadness and/or withdrawn numbness. It’s the inability to snap out of it. It’s the failure of hope. It’s the inability to interpret your life in any positive light.

And, what’s important for you to recognize is how freely the Psalmist is able to express himself in the face of God. There’s a progression that takes place, and it’s a progression in his thinking that only happens as you’re doing to the work of processing your experience. It’s a progression that gets worse before it gets better, yet moves him toward the source of his depression that he might rediscover the light. He starts by saying, “This is how I feel.” Next, he’s saying, “This is what I’m thinking.” Beginning in verse 4, the author increasingly begins to question God’s trustworthiness. “You hold my eyelids open.” Then, he asks a series of questions aimed at God.

Express yourself “boldly.”

In verses 7-9, he questions at least six different aspects of God’s covenant and promises. He’s asking out loud whether God is really good and really trustworthy or really even there. He isn’t just expressing himself freely. He’s expressing himself boldly in the face of God. He’s allowing himself to ask the hard questions and seek their answers. That’s important to note.

The fall of Jersualem is the likely background of this Psalm. God’s promises seem quite literally to be failing in front of him. What he’s always been told about God is suddenly colliding with a reality that is clearly saying something else, a feeling that is feeling something else. His life is the evidence to him that God’s promises aren’t being upheld.

And, now, we get to the source of his depression. His hope had failed because his faith was in God giving him the life he expected. His ideals weren’t realized, and his dreams weren’t coming to fruition. So, he felt betrayed. His hope hadn’t really been in God. His hope had really been in the life that he had wanted and having the experience of God he expected — Jersualem would always stand and he would always live there.

And, that gets to the source of much of our depression. We equate our dreams to our hopes. “Hopes and dreams” are synonymous in our society. Our hope is in our marriage being wonderful or motherhood being rewarding. So, when marriage is really hard and motherhood is monotonous — or when you never marry or are unable to have children, your dreams don’t live up to your ideals and your hope can evaporate. You may have been a high achiever all of your life, and your dream is to continue to be. But, when you have a sink filled with dishes and yelling children and husband who comes home late, high achieving is impossible. You feel smothered and hope evaporates. You dreamed of traveling or starting a business, but then you find out you have an autoimmune disorder that won’t allow it. Your dream doesn’t just die; your hope does.

(show picture) I’ve been open with you about my past depression. One day, not long after my spinal fusion, Andrew walked in on me crying. I was looking at this picture of when I had hiked across the AT, and I was coming to grips with the realization that I would never be that person again. Like verse 5, “I considered the days of old.” I had to come to realization that my life was not going according to my plan, and it was pouring out of me. But, you know, that was a step toward healing for me. You’re wrestling with these thoughts and with these questions inside, but you have to express them. Freely and boldly. Because you have to see how what you’re facing and what you’ve believed fit together, and that only happens when you pull everything out so you can look at it.

That’s what the Psalmist does, and it’s what enables him to begin finding his way out of the pit. You’ll see that then he teaches you to…

“Talk” to yourself.

Psalm 77:10–20 “Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples. You with your arm redeemed your people, the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.”

(show quote) Martyn Lloyd-Jones was a world renown medical doctor when he became, in my opinion, the greatest preacher of the 20th Century. He wrote a book called “Spiritual Depression” where he says this: “Most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself.” You see, we have all of these thoughts that find their ways into our minds, and we have all of these feelings that are lying to you about reality, and if you just listen to them, they’ll ruin your life. It’s interesting that the turning point of Psalm 77:10 begins with, “Then I said…” Whose he talking to? Himself. He’s the one there, and he’s giving us insight into what transformed his perspective. And, it began by him changing the narrative of his internal voice.

Ed Welch reminds us: “All pain is interpreted pain.” You aren’t just coping with your circumstances. You’re also coping with your interpretation of it. That’s why everything can be right, and you can still be miserable. The deepest depression may come, not from experiencing unexpected problems, but from realizing your dreams, and your dreams not living up to your expectations. “I have everything I want, and it’s not that great.” It’s an interpretation problem. So, the Psalmist recognizes that he needs a reinterpretation. He needs to change the narrative that he’s been telling himself. His circumstances do not change between verses 9 and 10, but his interpretation does.

“Do” the “work.”

Notice what happens. First, he commits himself to doing the soul work in verse 12. He says: “I WILL ponder your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.” Depression tells you that you can’t. It says in verse 2: “I refuse to be comforted.” But, to move forward, you have to respond with, “But I will.” The one thing you can’t do with depression is nothing. Depression wants you to always take the easy path. Withdraw. Stay in bed. Drink. Be embarrassed. But, you have to commit to doing the hardest work in the world: soul work.

So, he commits to talking to himself to change the interpretation. I want you to notice the change that takes place. In the first 10 verses, it’s “I…I…I…my…my…my.” But, notice starting in verse 11 the shift. Now, it’s “Lord…you….you..your…your.” That’s the move that has to happen. That’s the reinterpretation that moves you from hopeless to hopeful. You see, so long as you know there is a sovereign God who is present, good, and willing, hopelessness is a rational impossibility. For who is God other than the source of hope.

And, I know you’re immediately thinking, “Okay, yes, but how do I start.” Hold on just a bit. I’m going to give you more of the specifics when we talk about how to lament.

“Change” the “perspective.”

So, he begins to retrace his argument that God doesn’t keep his promises by looking at reality. He’s changing his perspective. He goes to the Exodus to remember why his God is great and trustworthy. He remembers the plagues (v14), the redemption from slavery (v. 15), the dividing of the Red Sea (v.16), and the quaking earth at Mt. Sinai where the covenant started (v. 17-18). And, he comes to this conclusion: The times that looked the worst was when God worked the best. It looked hopeless in Egypt when the world mightiest army bore down on them, but there was hope because there was God. And, his “way was through the sea.” A way otherwise impossible for them.

I love how he summarizes it: “Yet your footprints were unseen.” God’s redemption often doesn’t look and feel like redemption in the moment. It often looks and feels like pain and hopelessness. But, just because you can’t see God’s footprints today doesn’t mean that you won’t see his fingerprints on every part of your life looking back. You can’t understand the ways of God in real time; you can only live by faith.

In fact, this is what the cross teaches us, isn’t it? Jesus cries out the cry of depression: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus was in the most bitter darkness with the least comfort. He knew personally what this Psalmist only knew emotionally. But, it was through the sea — the symbol of judgment and chaos — that Jesus wrought our redemption from judgment and brought order to our lives. That’s the story that we tell ourselves. Don’t despair over missing footprints. Trust that one day you’ll see the fingerprints, and that when you do, you’ll say in the face of God what the Psalmist says: “Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God?”

And, that brings me to where I want us to land. I want to put the tool of psalmist in your tool box so that you can process your disappointments and sadness as they happen. You do that when you….

“Empty” yourself.

You see, trauma has compounding interest. The longer you hold on to it, the bigger it becomes. Many of us are trying to close this door in our minds that hides all of things from our lives that we don’t want to look at. But, you can’t trick yourself, can you? That doesn’t work, does it? In fact, trying to compartmentalize it and pretend like it isn’t there makes it even scarier to face so that when you inevitably do face it, you’re drowning, not just in your current trouble, but beneath every stored hardship you’ve refused to face over the course of your life. And, that “day of trouble” will come, friends. The psalms teach us to expect them.

“Open” the “door.”

So, we must open the door and empty that room in our minds if we want to avoid feeling like we’re coming apart. And, men, this includes you…especially you. We need men to start stepping up and dealing with their stuff so that your kids don’t have to deal with dad issues later. We need a recovery of Hebrew manhood that we learn in the Psalms. David wrote more Psalms that anyone, and I want you to think about him. David was a man’s man. He was a warrior. They said that “Saul killed his thousands, but David killed his tens of thousands.” He was the kind of man that would do the hard work of protecting his family and his people. He incurred the trauma of the battlefield. Then, he went home, felt it deeply, and wrote poetry about it.

Psalm 77, and numerous others, are what we call a lament Psalm. And, if you’ve met with me and were depressed, then you know that I believe that this is part of what we need to recover. You don’t have to write poetry, but you do have to lament when your life goes off the tracks, when you feel misery and numbness setting in, when you face disappointments, or you’ll just keep having to pretend like that door isn’t there.

minimum with your journal, ideally with someone else —getting past the shame to your lifelong counselors

You could break down a lament into three questions: What do I feel? What do I think? and What do I know? It’s the process of getting out of you what’s in there. These questions can be asked and dealt with your spouse or a counselor. They can be dealt with in a journal where you write. Shame is going to try to scare you way from. Pride is going to try embarrass you out of it. Don’t listen to yourself. Talk to yourself. And then to someone else. What do I feel? What do I think? and What do I know? The Psalmist felt deep sadness and exhaustion. He felt betrayed. What did he think? This is where you have to be willing to raw with God. I’m not talking about impugning God’s character, but I am talking about asking the hard questions. The Psalms are often written in a rated MA way. The Psalmist asks whether God is really going to keep his promises or if He’s even there. This was the thought he need to empty. But then, the psalmist lands on what he knows. God’s redemption often does feel like redemption when it’s happening. It’s only recognized after it’s over. So, he has hope because he has God.

“Ask” the “questions.”

So, ask yourself the questions: what do you need to empty? What do you really feel when you think about how your dad treated you? What do you really feel about your life as a mom or a husband? What do you really feel about the disappointments with your career? How does your mind feel? How does your body feel? And, what are you thinking about those things? Do you think you’ve been betrayed because you aren’t married or can’t have kids? Do you think you’ve been treated unfairly because of the parents you have or didn’t have? Does you health make you think you’ve been picked on? Well, say those things. Write those things. Weep over those things. And, once that’s emptied, go through every memory and every tear and every disappointment while you sit with Jesus. Let him reparent you. Let him treat you the way your spouse should. Let him remind you that the cross isn’t just hope for one day. It’s hope for today.