October 8, 2017

When a challenge presents itself in your life how do you respond? I am a problem-solver, who likes to look at creative solutions to complex problems, I usually take a deep breath and start thinking about all the possible things I can do or say to bring about a better tomorrow. Do I pray about it? Yes I do. But the prayer is often when I walk, when I am most attuned to the whisper of God’s voice in my ear. But lately I have been expressing my prayer in more explicit terms; singing, shouting out in joy words of praise and thanksgiving, calling or emailing someone to tell them how I feel God is moving me to a better place.

Evangelical Christians are better at these assertions, loudly telling others what God is doing in their life to help meet a challenge. I like this. I know many of my more liberal friends get a bit irritated by the sunny response to a deeply troubling challenge. My liberal friends worry the evangelical is in part living in denial and not dealing with the emotional body-blow they have endured. I get that and sometimes there is truth there. But sometimes my liberal friends are underestimating just how changed this experience has been to the evangelical, that a transformative event will mean nothing can be the same in the future. If you are “saved” from pain and hurt who wouldn’t want to run to the highest rooftop and shout, “thank you God!”

The problem I have with those who sing this song of thanksgiving is that sometimes the one delivered does not see how unique her/his journey has been, assuming all of us are “saved” or “transformed” in the same way.  Given the billions of people who have walked this planet and expressed their spiritual lives in so many different ways how can we possibly assume our answer will be everyone else’s answer. And worse, what if the result of the other’s attempt to replicate our healing with God does not pan out as ours did? I can tell you the response, people will ask a) if God is punishing them for some unmet expectation or b) perhaps there is no God.

I think it is perfectly good and right for anyone who feels s/he has been healed by God’s touch to say so, to shout it, sing it, and proclaim it to anyone who will listen. But use “I” statements, tell people what God has done in your life, please don’t assume God will do exactly the same for others, following the prescriptions you lay out. The irony for me is this, some of the people who are most “hurt” by the slights of others will at the same time indulge in this practice of telling others if only they do this or that they too will be healed, completely. The “hurt” of one who follows these prescriptions and remains in pain or lost cannot be denied.

I believe we make our way through the joys and setbacks of life by forming narratives of who we believe we are, what we need and where we are going. Early on the joys and thanksgivings of life are straightforward, we think we know what we need and we don’t spend a lot of time thinking about where we are going. But as life takes us on twists and turns the joys of life are not so straight forward, who and what we need gets some correction and where we are going suddenly becomes crucial. In the end the challenges of our lives force upon us changes, changes in our expectations and in our assessment of what constitutes a good day, a good life.

The Psalms are an excellent source of inspiration for those of us going through these joys and setbacks. Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann has broken the psalms into three distinct types. First, there’s the psalms of orientation. These are a kind of praise Psalm. The Psalms of orientation see God as always good and faithful. The Torah, or Law, is always just. The world is viewed as a stable, fair, and orderly place. God is good all the time, and all the time God is good. These are prayers of joy, peace, and contentment with God. They help us express a life of simple faith and deep trust. Psalm 1 is an example of a psalm of orientation. This Psalm promises that people who love the Lord’s Instruction are like are like a tree replanted by streams of water. And: Whatever they do succeeds (v. 2-3).

The second type of Psalm is psalms of disorientation. These are also called Psalms of lament. They come from those seasons of life when our world has crumbled under our feet. They express anguish, betrayal, confusion, and self-pity. They question whether or not God is as good as we believed. Whether the world is as fair and orderly as we imagined. There is still faith, but there are also many deep and troubling questions. Jesus quoted one of these kinds of Psalms from the cross: My God! My God, why have you left me all alone? (Ps. 22.1) These songs come from the long, dark nights of the soul. When God seems absent and our world makes no sense.

Finally, there’s another kind of praise Psalm called psalms of new orientation. These come from the time after God’s people have experienced disorientation. The people who composed these prayers have come through the crisis, and God has surprised them on the other side of their ordeal with new gifts and blessings and insights into God’s faithfulness. These are Psalms about coming out of darkness into light. Death emerging from life. They celebrate how God is faithful to deliver his people from impossible situations. Psalm 23 is a famous example of this kind of prayer. In the middle of this Psalm, the author tells God: Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger because you are with me. This kind of prayer can only be prayed by someone who has come through a dark and lonely season of life, and realized that God had never left their side.

The Psalms teach us the words to use to celebrate God’s goodness; to speak honestly to God when we are hurt; and to reaffirm our faith after times of deep distress. The well-rounded life of faith needs all of them.

Our Psalm today is Psalm 100. Psalm 100 is a prayer of thanksgiving—a praise Psalm. This short prayer of praise is interesting, and here’s why. We don’t know who wrote it, or when, or exactly why. Remember how we just heard Walter Brueggemann break down the three types of Psalms: psalms of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation? Brueggemann suspects it’s a psalm of new orientation. Think about it this way. There are some events—both good and evil—that change you forever. Like the thrill of your wedding day, or the dashed hopes and resentments that go along with divorce. The hopes and joys that well up in your soul when you’re expecting a child; or the nightmare that descends on you when that child dies in your womb or in its crib. After these things happen to you, you go on living, but your world is never the same. Eventually you adjust to your new normal. Psalm 100 is a prayer from the lips of a person or community that has adjusted to their new normal. This Psalm expresses the seasoned faith of someone who has learned from experience that God works all things together for good for the ones who love God (Rom. 8.28).

The Psalmist didn’t just call the faithful saints, or God’s people, or even the church to celebrate God, but all the earth. All peoples, every tribe and tongue. All creatures great and small. Yes, and even for the trees of the field to clap their hands, and the stones to cry out. Everyone and everything is invited to serve God with joy, because the God who has rescued Israel time and time again is also the King of the Cosmos.

Let me end with two simple acts of new orientation I witnessed firsthand this week. The first happened at the Valley Regional Hospital where I was visiting a friend who is gravely ill. As I walked through the main hallway I heard the heavenly sounds of a harp. There was a volunteer playing the most serene and moving music as patients, caregivers, staff, volunteers and family/friends wandered through the hospital. There was no other sound in that hospital, some forty people sat, some crying, some smiling, all moved. I waited till the harpist was finished then walked up to her and simply said, “thank you”. In that music I felt the pain of my friend, the pain of those in that hospital, and the joy this melody gave to us. Like all offerings of new orientation this music did not take away the pain or suppose it would not return but it did suggest that living in the pain there was still the possibility of joy.

The other act of new orientation happened on Thursday when I joined the mental health community for the 10th annual Festival of Hope to celebrate health, healing and happiness. I saw a long-time staff member there who had lived through the suicide of a son. I cannot imagine the pain of that experience. There are no words to express how I felt when I heard that news. When I saw her at the event on Thursday I said nothing, I just gave her a hug. This mother told me that she believes God had sent her son to her to teach her lessons, lessons she is trying to learn. I listened. When I said, “one day at a time” she replied “one minute at a time”. Later outside there was a band playing lively music and they were attempting to get conference participants up and dancing. About 20 people joined in. One of these dancers was this mother, her movement and smile were not forced but they were not devoid of the pain of living either. The joy was real but it did not mask the pain, rather it worked through and in the pain to form a new orientation of praise.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I pray that you find yourself dancing in a new way to an old song God has written on your heart. Amen.