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Home Page
The Rector's Welcome
Worship
Sermons
Music & the Organ
Newsletter
Schedule & Events
History
Programs & Ministries
Tour the Building
Links
Map & Directions
Monthly Calendar
Home Page
The Rector's Welcome
Worship
Sermons
Music & the Organ
Newsletter
Schedule & Events
History
Programs & Ministries
Tour the Building
Links
Map & Directions
Monthly Calendar
Fr. J. D. Ousley
25 January 2009Psalm 130“Prayer of a Lifetime”
In the Name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.
A recent horror novel called The Deep describes a war between human beings and human-like creatures who live in a vast series of caverns under the surface of the earth.
While the book is exciting, I don't recommend The Deep for its spiritual insights—nor is it great literature! What's most interesting about the story is that the human characters who have grown up on the surface of the earth must adapt to fighting in their enemies' tunnels and caves in almost total darkness. Imagine a world where the only light comes from glowing animals like fireflies.
The title of the novel reminds me of an opening line from the Psalm assigned for today's worship: "Out of the depth have I called unto you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice." The traditional translation reads, "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord ..."
But far from being science fiction, Psalm 130 expresses a feeling of darkness that might come to any of us. The source of the feeling could be anxiety, or fatigue, or confusion, or anger.
We sometimes say that we feel "down," or we feel "low." When things get really bad, we may imagine that we are in the "depths" — like the depths of despair. We feel the walls of life closing in; we feel surrounded by a thick emotional darkness.
The British writer Oscar Wilde, toward the end of his life, wrote an essay with Psalm 130 in mind. He called the essay, De profundis which means "out of the depths" in English.
In his essay, Wilde admits to many mistakes he has made in his life. With searing honesty, he describes his own journey into the darkness.
He writes, for example, "The gods had given me almost everything. But I let myself be lured into long spells of senseless and sensual ease ... I became the spendthrift of my own genius ... Tired of being on the heights, I deliberately went to the depths in the search for new sensation ... I grew careless of the lives of others ... I forgot that every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character ... I ceased to be lord over myself. I was no longer the captain of my soul, and did not know it ..."
If few of us have the genius to waste that Oscar Wilde had, still, we know what it is to say, with the Psalmist, "Out of the deep have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice."
But notice that at the same time that the Psalm conveys our distress and our pain, it also implies that we won't stay in the pit forever. For we ask God to "hear our prayer." The Psalmist says, "My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning."
As the watchman waits for the sun to rise in the morning, in order that his lonely night of watching can end and he can go home, so we hope that God will respond to our cries "before the morning watch."
Now some optimistic Christians think that this is the end of the story. Once we have cried out from the depths, God will immediately respond to us with love and grace and power. Our emotional darkness will end and the light will shine.
And I suppose that for some Christians, when they have found Christ, life proceeds smoothly, as in today's Gospel story of Jesus' calling of four of his disciples.
In the story, Jesus commands the fishermen to leave their nets and follow him. So the disciples will be with Christ, and Christ will solve all their problems for them.
From that moment on, they will be able to ask him their questions; Jesus will be there with them, to comfort them whenever they need help.
But the disciples were in a unique and privileged position, living with Christ, day-to-day, in the flesh. Unlike the disciples, we can't expect that we will instantly be comforted by the Spirit whenever we need help.
Granted, for us who are not apostles, offering the prayer is critical. Saying the words of the Psalm forces us to admit that we need help in the first place.
But after our pleading admission, though, many of us find that we are still in deep water. Psalm 130 recognizes this: the psalmist says, "I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him."
I wait. My soul waits. Meanwhile, nothing is happening! I still feel like I am wandering in a vast cave, trying to find a way out. I admit that I myself felt like I was waiting in darkness last weekend, when by a complete coincidence two of our parishioners died. Two people I had known for many years — each of whom I had spent hours discussing religion with because, by another coincidence, each of them had been baptized as an adult.
I was reminded that Psalm 130 is not a prayer to say once in a while — like one of those medications, where the directions on the bottle say, "to be taken as needed."
No, this is the prayer of a lifetime. This spiritual medicine is for everyday use.
We will never reach a time in this life when we have everything we need. We will always be waiting for something we want to happen. We will always be in the dark about something. And we will always be tempted to pray "out of the depths."
Traditionally, at least some of the Psalms were thought to have been written by David, the King of Israel who was an ancestor of Jesus. While scholars aren't sure about this, it is easy to imagine King David saying Psalm 130.
For David seemed to have begun his public career with everything going for him. And then he had one problem after another.
He emerged from obscurity when he killed the Philistine giant, Goliath. As a military and political leader, he became one of the most prominent leaders in the history of Israel.
Yet after he killed Goliath, David quarreled with his mentor, King Saul. After he became king of Israel, he seduced another man's wife, Bathsheba, and had her husband killed. His crime was discovered and he was shamed in front of the nation and punished by God. The final years of King David's reign were clouded by heart-wrenching conflicts with his sons.
Despite his wealth and power, then, David must have known what it was like to pray "out of the depths."
Even so, as we ponder the words of Psalm 130, we should also notice that it is a psalm to God. We cry out "to you, O Lord;" we note, "In his word is my hope."
Lost in our individual darkness, it is easy to forget that. If there is anything that isolates us from God and our fellow human beings, it is the feeling that we are "in the depths."
The Psalm even recognizes this by being in the first person: "Out of the depths, I cry unto thee ..."
If we always felt spiritually connected, we wouldn't be offering the prayer in the first place! Times of spiritual darkness by their nature make us feel pessimistic. We think no one cares about us, and that "no one" includes God.
But God does care. God hears us and God answers our prayers when we offer our words and our lives to him.
Today, instead of the usual final prayer, I would like you to turn to your prayer book and join me in saying another Psalm — another Psalm which also is a prayer of a lifetime.
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thoupreparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thouanointest my head with oil; my cuprunneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."