Reflections Upon Psalm 30

“I’m Trading My Sorrows” was one of my mother’s favorite songs.  I haven’t actually been avoiding it, rather I have been not actively sought to listen to it.  I’m not sure if it’s one and the same thing.  However, the chorus hasn't been far from my mind.  So I Googled the verse.  I have finally found a tool that actually lets me look up Bible verses when I have a vague idea of the words that’s in the verse.  It directed me to Psalm 30:5.  How could I possibly just look up the verse without reading what came before and after? 

Now, I don’t claim to be a theologian, a biblical or rabbinical teacher, or pastor, or preacher, or anything other than myself.  I've read Psalm 30 before.  Only this time I was facing personal stress inducing situations, and feeling overwhelmingly depressed and discouraged.  I was simply trying to find something to latch onto, a word, anything to try to find my way out of this sea of despair I was quickly sinking into.  I wanted God’s reminder that “weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).  What I found was more than anything I expected.  The heading for this psalm says it was a song of the blessedness of answered prayers and it was sung at the dedication of the house of David.  However, as I read the words, a picture began to form of a night in Gethsemane, a man praying with such passion that his sweat and tears became droplets of blood.  In the midst of David’s psalm, a picture of Jesus’s grief, his obedience, his suffering, his victory, his resurrection began to emerge. 

¹ I will extol You, O Lord, for You have lifted me up, 

And have not let my foes rejoice over me.  

² O Lord my God, I cried out to You, 

And You healed me.  

³ O Lord, You brought my soul up from the grave; 

You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.  

⁴ Sing praise to the Lord, you saints of His, 

And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.  

⁵ For His anger is but for a moment, 

His favor is for life; 

Weeping may endure for a night, 

But joy comes in the morning.  

⁶ Now in my prosperity I said, 

“I shall never be moved.”  

⁷ Lord, by Your favor You have made my mountain stand strong; 

You hid Your face, and I was troubled.  

⁸ I cried out to You, O Lord; 

And to the Lord I made supplication: 

⁹ “What profit is there in my blood, 

When I go down to the pit? 

Will the dust praise You? 

Will it declare Your truth?  

¹⁰ Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me; 

Lord, be my helper!”  

¹¹ You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; 

You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, 

¹² To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. 

O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.  

~ Psalm 30:1-12 (NKJV) 

Yet what stood out the most, literally shouted up at me, were David’s bold words “I cried out to You, O Lord; And to the Lord I made supplication: “What profit is there in my blood, When I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your truth?  Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me; Lord, be my helper!” (Psalm 30:8-10)  This is no meek cry of desperation!  This is no wail of the broken heart!  This was the cry of a King to his God, boldly making his needs heard before his God.  This is the cry of one who is confident of God’s love and care for him.  This is the bold declaration of a child secure in the love of his heavenly Father. 

Why is my heart faint?  Why am I afraid?  Is His promise not the same for me as it was for those who came before me?  His words says “whoever believes” “should not parish,” does that not also include me?  Where is that boldness?  Will I allow my emotions to drown out my praise?  The lyricist wrote, “I will praise you through the good or bad” because “praise is what I do.”  It is not enough to simply cry out to God for help but like David I need to boldly claim God's blessings and continue to give him praise.    

Shall then be like Mary the sister of Martha who chose to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to his words?  I have dreams and goals which are secular of nature.  Shall I be divided between my two selves and live forever with one foot in the spiritual and one in the secular?  I am Martha, concerned with the care of the secular aspects of my life.  But I long to be like Mary, to indulge in the spiritual without reservations.  Martha invited Jesus into her home and wanted to gift him with her best hospitality.  But Jesus saw to the heart of her, her worry about all the little details which really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.  Mary didn't just invite Jesus, she chose him with every fiber of her being.  Why then should this choice be taken from her? 

Free will is a powerful concept.  We think of our basic human rights, the right to life, liberty, and prosperity.  Our government gives us this.  But have we ever considered what it really means to really have those rights?  Circumstance happen and will continue to happen and very rarely can we actually control them.  The more we try, like Martha, the more overwhelmed we will feel.  But what if…like David, we choose to boldly cry out before God, pour out all our miseries, our worries, trade our “yolk” and take up His instead?  What if we “yolk” ourselves to Christ and choose life, to boldly praise Him always and forever? 

Does it mean we need to accept our circumstances and repeat that overused cliched phrase Christians love so much?  “I’m too blessed to be stressed?”  I stopped to think about it because it just seemed insincere to me.  Upon closer examination, I've come to the conclusion that it should be spoken with boldness, as a reminder that we have chosen Jesus and we are recipients of His blessings.  Those inconsequential details of our everyday life that cause us to despair, to become stressed, cause us to falter, we can simply give it over to Him.  As it says (1 Peter 5:6-7), “therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” .

I am blessed, with a promise that “the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, [will] perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle [me].” (1 Peter5:10).  I have seen death.  I have stared it in the face.  I have spent many hours in its presence.  Like David, I can boldly claim that I “have put off my sackcloth and [am] clothed…with gladness…[I] will sing praise to [God] and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever” simply because like Mary, I am choosing that which is needed, the good part and it will not be denied me. 

I realized that unless I boldly accept God’s blessings in my life and continue to praise Him and thank Him, I will continue to slip into that quicksand of despair and hopelessness.  In all circumstance, let’s not forget God’s advice, His promise, and finally His commandment to Joshua, "be strong and of good courage" God will never leave us or forsake us; he’s always with us, where ever we go.  Armed with this knowledge, I realize that I am free to make a choice.  I chose to get up and get on with my life.  I chose to take my blessings with both hands and accept them with a heart filled with gratitude.  The heartaches are a part of the blessings because they have allowed me to value my blessings.  My pain has shown me the depth of my courage and strength.  I am determined, like David to sing His praise and give Him thanks forever. 

Choosing to Let Go…

Life doesn’t not wait but it ever marches forward to a beat that matches the rhythm of the living heart.  The dead do not care, they do not dream, they simply sleep an eternal slumber.  If faith in Christ gives us anything it is hope that one day this hollow pain we feel, this thorn in our flesh that reminds us of our loss, will one day end and we will see those who have gone before.  So the choice is clear isn’t it?  Or at least it should be, maybe.  It’s been months and here I stand at yet another crossroad.  Like petals torn from a flower, it’s time to let them go and watch the wind sweep them out of your hand.  The flower is dead.  You ripped it off.  The petals would have fallen off with time anyway.  But at least for a moment, you held it in your hand, smelled its fragrance, taking in its beauty in wonder.  Now it’s time to let it go and walk away.

Perhaps the most powerful realization we can have is that of free will.  I am not burying my pain.  I have embraced it.  I am not ignoring my loss and letting it fester like a deep wound inside of me.  I acknowledge that it has healed and there are scar tissues that has formed in its wake.  I will feel them when I least expect it.  It’s a reminder that I am still alive.  I get to choose how I will live my life, if I will live at all.

I have keenly felt this medical history that has been handed to me without so much a by your leave.  I do wonder if I will be struck down in similar fashion in the future.  Will cancer kill me or will dementia make me forget all the wonders of my life?  Perhaps God allows the storms of life to come so that we can learn to be still and acknowledge that he is still the God upon the throne.  It feels as if everything in my life is coming to a headlong collision all at the same time and the biggest obstacle at the head of this brigade is my loss, specially since tomorrow is Mother’s Day.  I keep thinking, maybe, just maybe if I can get through this then I will be fine. 

I read two articles today, one written by a mother and another written by a father.  They were both about the loss of a child.  These articles reminded me how close I came to losing my own son on the day he was born.  My mother’s cry of anguish still echo in my ears as I remember by body finally expelling this wrinkly purple looking child after over twenty hours of labor.  He didn’t cry.  His father’s face broke as he kept saying this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.  I remember only this absolute peace that everything was going to be just fine.  He wasn’t breathing.

I knew something was wrong because my midwife called the ambulance.  One of the other midwife actually got to the Birthing Center before the ambulance.  His father would later tell me of singing Amazing Grace to our son.  Before they took my baby to NICU, the midwife brought him to me so I could kiss him good-bye.  I forgot that my mother was there or anyone else and I just saw this perfectly pink little boy and he was really quite beautiful.  I didn’t get to hold my son until the day after he was born.  He was so tiny but the moment I had him in my arms I knew I would never be the same.  He changed me.  He made me a mother.

Today I am choosing to take off my hat.  I will stop straining to hear the faint echo of the word “daughter” from the past.  I will stop being angry as my anger doesn’t serve any purpose but to steal from me moments in the present.  I told her I am letting her go so today I am doing just that.  I am leaving behind the daughter and embracing the mother.  This is who I am.  I am a mother.  I don’t need a day to remind me of what I have lost or one to celebrate who I am.

All I need is this immense gratitude that I had an amazing mother who loved me the same way I am now privileged to love my sons.  One day it will be my turn to step into the doorway of eternity.  When that time comes, I will leave them behind but until then, I can’t be distracted by grief.  I need to love them as much as I can, while I have the time.  I will be with her again.  Until then, I’m here, so I’m choosing to let her go and move on with my life.  I need to.  It’s about time.