Eric W. Sayers

The text: Psalm 34 – NRSV

This psalm will forever hold a special place in my spirit, as about two years ago it became a very personal prayer for me. It was about that time that I narrowly avoided a personal crisis. When it was clear that the danger had passed, in a wave of thanksgiving I went to the piano and played the opening bars of what would become “Come, O Children,” one of my little anthems. At that moment, the music was there, but I had no text. I knew that what I wanted was a psalm of thanksgiving, particularly a psalm of personal thanksgiving, and after consulting a few references and flipping through the psalter, found myself reading Psalm 34. It was amazing to find the words I wanted to express right there on the printed page!

It’s a fascinating psalm, and rather complex the more one studies it. It is an acrostic psalm, in that each verse begins with a successive letter in the Hebrew alphabet. It is a psalm of thanksgiving, but also one of teaching. The psalmist speaks, but not to God. Who is the audience? At first glance, one might suppose the audience is the psalmist’s disciples. But if we are reading it, then does the audience shift so that it is also us, simultaneously? Then who is truly speaking? Who do you hear saying, “Come, O Children, listen to me…”? This is a lovely example of Hebrew poetry that speaks through multiple layers, together and at once. Listen for them, and perhaps you’ll find a prayer of thanksgiving to call your own.

The text: Psalm 109 – NRSV

When I was much younger, a friend surprised me one day by saying something like “I was so made today that I had to go yell at God!” Never had I heard someone claim to be mad at God. It gave me pause. So today we come to a type of Psalm that may likewise give us pause, as it doesn’t appear to be the kind of song that has a place in polite company. This is not a psalm you will likely hear read in church or at weddings, funerals, or almost any other occasion for that matter. The psalm is like a lament, but the emotions are more raw, and there are calls for retribution or even violence. Such psalms (yes, there are others) are often called imprecatory psalms, literally  psalms that call down a curse. What is something like this doing in Scripture? We might feel ourselves recoiling from this text, much like we might recoil from another person who is raging or in agony. These parts of human experience—pain, suffering, anger, despair—make us uncomfortable. Nevertheless they are very much part of being human, and we have all experienced them, and know that we will experience them in the future. That, I think, is a big reason why these psalms exist, because the psalms express the full range of human emotions. Like we discussed when considering Psalm 10, God is very familiar with these emotions, and God does not recoil from us when we experience them. It reminds me of the story of the Good Samaritan. In that story, to whom is the character of God drawn? From whom do the outwardly “good” people recoil and avoid? Pointedly, the psalmist in v. 22 makes the central claim: For I am poor and needy. It is no longer someone else who is least and lost, it is I. In this sense, the psalm is a profound testament of faith, as the God who cares for the poor and needy will certainly care for us when we find ourselves down and out. Perhaps this Lent, when we feel the presence of enemies at the gate and need to yell at God, this psalm can be a prayer for us.

Perhaps another illustration may help. When I was a teenage my mother would say to people that when she came home after work, she could always tell what kind of mood I was in by the kind of music I was playing on the piano. When I was upset, bothered, or angry, I reliably found that an appropriately angry passage from Beethoven, Brahms, or Rachmaninoff would do the trick. No matter how hard I would throw myself and my disquiet at the instrument, all that would come out is music.

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 103 – NRSV

For my wife, Mandy, and me this psalm will always occupy a special place in our hearts, minds, and souls. It was one of the four Scriptures we used at our wedding. Looking back across the years it is strange to think about that time when we started our married lives in Connecticut, before I had heard about Disciple Bible Study or had any inkling that in just a few years we would be moving to Maryland, would raise two wonderful children there, and that Mandy would become a pastor (she was in law school at the time!). So much has changed, but the psalm is as it always has been. It is truly a fountain of joy and wonders. Align your reading to the rhythm of its couplings and the soaring statements that sweep you off your feet. You will find reflections of many psalms we have covered so far, and even more, it alludes to ideas that we tend to associate with the New Testament.

On a level above the couplets, there is a beautiful ABA structure to this psalm. The A sections are full of imperative calls to bless the Lord, while the B section is a litany of God’s saving acts. What strikes me now are phrases like the opening “Bless the Lord, O my soul…” What does it mean to command one’s soul to do something? What relationship do we have with our souls?

A final thought: if you like hymns and praise songs, this psalm is a treasure. Try a quick Google search for this psalm with the word “hymn” or “song” added, and prepare to spend some time browsing and listening. The hymn “Praise, my Soul, the King of Heaven” (UMH 66) is a great example, and I’ve also linked an anthem by the Prestonwood Choir below. Enjoy!

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 95 – NRSV

We’ve reached the end of a second week! So again on this Sabbath we lift up a song of praise to God. Psalm 95 is often considered an enthronement psalm because of its emphasis on the lordship of God and its call to humble ourselves before God. As you read it, listen for the reasons why God is Lord and what the nature of God’s lordship is.

Another notable aspect of this psalm is the change of voice that happens toward the end (v. 9). When my wife preaches on one of Jesus’ parables, she will often say that the first order of business in understanding the parable is to ask this question: where is God in the parable? In a similar way, when approaching a psalm, a good question is this: who is the speaker (or speakers)? And another: who is the audience? In this psalm, gone are the “I” statements of Psalm 138 or 3, both of which are individual expressions where the psalmist is the speaker and God is the audience. At the beginning of Psalm 95, the speaker is a worship leader and the audience is the assembled congregation. This is a community psalm. But then in v.9, abruptly the speaker becomes God, apparently addressing the congregation directly. The tone of the psalm also shifts from praise to challenge, from celebration to warning. Why this shift of voice and tone, and what does this mean? That is something to take to God in prayer. One possible path to a deeper understanding may be to read the psalm multiple times, as if there were a repeat sign at the end, so that the praise becomes a response to the warning. Like with many good songs, a little repetition can be a very good thing!

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 138 – NRSV

Here we have another lovely psalm of thanksgiving. This is another psalm to read slowly, treasuring every phrase. As you read, note the three stanzas, and how each one ends with a statement about why the psalmist is thankful to God. As you read it and pray it, allow experiences from your own life to surface, and let the expressions of thanks become your own.

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.

The text: Psalm 127 – NRSV

“Well begun is half done.” This proverb attributed to Aristotle certainly sums up much of what I have learned about project management. I have found that one can predict the success of a project largely based on the quality of the planning that preceded the work. This little psalm attributed to Solomon takes this idea a step further, reminding us that all of our efforts begin with God and God’s gifts, and that God is the sure foundation on which we should build all of our work.

While the second half of this psalm may appear to be merely about the benefits of a large family, it’s worth considering that in the ancient world, family was the primary source of labor. It still is in many instances today. If we apply this to our current workplaces, perhaps this passage speaks to us about our teams of co-workers and the importance of working together in unity. If we apply this to our lives of faith, then this family, this team, is none other than the church. How does the psalm speak to you about your own ministry and those who labor alongside you? How would your work change if your “well begun” was none other than God?

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The text: Psalm 8 – NRSV

This is one of those psalms that can really leave you standing agape if you let it. It is very much as it appears: a lyrical and sweeping hymn of praise to our creator God. But it also addresses one of the most profound and central questions of faith. In my life I’ve known several agnostics and have counted them as good friends. In my experience a common objection to Christianity and other religions goes something like this: if there is a being so vast as to create the universe, how can we possibly claim with a straight face that this being cares about, much less loves every human that has ever lived? Nonsense! Or, how is it possible that we can know or understand anything about such a being? Considering that not that long ago we were convinced that the earth is flat and that the earth lies at the center of the universe, our track record at understanding our world is not that great. Even today we discover new species on our little planet all the time. We understand so little about our world, to say nothing of the (very much wider) universe. To be honest, as we have discussed, we have a great deal of trouble understanding ourselves. So how can we expect to understand a being like God? It seems ridiculous and impossible. But setting our ineptitudes aside for a moment, even if you allow that a being like God exists (and more than a few agnostics I have met do allow this), then by necessity this being would be completely inaccessible to us. Such a being must exist beyond space, beyond time, beyond the universe. Completely inaccessible. Up to this point in the argument, I totally agree. Without doubt God is a being so different from us that we cannot expect to understand any part of God’s nature. In fact, God seems to make this very point speaking through Isaiah:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

So how then can we possibly know anything about this God? This is indeed the very question Psalm 8 is asking.

The answer is simple: God contacted us. The pivot is in v. 5: Yet you have made them…yet you have given them… We had nothing to do with it. At the dawn of civilization in Mesopotamia people began preserving stories of these contacts, initially nucleating around the family of Abram, and people have been collecting these stories ever since.

This is the amazing proclamation of faith: as in creation, God always acts first. So this Lent, perhaps this psalm calls us to draw closer to a God who is utterly non-human, beyond anything we can conceive, and yet chooses to draw so close to us. This is, of course, God’s grace. No wonder this is such a psalm of exuberant praise!

O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

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The text: Psalm 3 – NRSV

Life is hard and full of challenges. This we all know. So it shouldn’t be surprising that about one-third of the psalter are laments, songs of sorrow, pain, and suffering. Psalm 3 is the first lament we encounter in the collection, so perhaps it’s appropriate to pause and consider how great a gift these psalms are. In my view, we should not read laments as if the tragedy was happening to someone else. We rather should place ourselves in the psalm as the speaker, and in doing so laments show us how to bring our suffering to God in prayer. This is especially true of individual laments like this psalm, where the speaker is clearly a human individual speaking directly to God. The foes, enemies, and threats are never named, allowing us to substitute freely into the text whatever challenges we are facing.

I’ll add one final note of encouragement. Many of us tend to suffer in silence, as our cultures often regard suffering as a weakness. We humans tend to isolate ourselves from other people when we are feeling sick, down, sad, or troubled. The risk is that when we feel this way, we may also isolate ourselves from God, treating God as if God were human. The good news, as we have discussed, is that God’s presence is always available, right beside us, and laments are a gateway to that presence when we feel unable to reach out. Laments give us permission to “unload” our feelings on God, and assurance that God will not recoil. God can take it. Even better, God will meet us halfway in the midst of the prayer.

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The text: Psalm 49 – NRSV

This is the time of year that I am most reminded of my Oklahoma childhood. It was this time of year when we would look to the west and watch the puffy clouds assemble into towering cumulonimbi around lunchtime, and we would wonder if today would be the day when a massive tornadic supercell would tear through town taking our homes, and possibly our lives, with it. Tornadoes tend to focus the mind, and have a very clarifying effect on one’s view of the permanence of physical property.

At first glance, it may be tempting to reduce this wisdom psalm to cliches: “you can’t take it with you” or “we all meet the same end”. We may feel like throwing up our hands at yet another Biblical diatribe about the dangers of wealth. But why is the psalmist not afraid of the rich and powerful? There’s a wonderful little jewel of seemingly New Testament hope in this psalm. Can you find it? When the storms of life rage, what can we truly trust? Because the thing about tornadoes is that they pass by rapidly and dissipate into nothingness, leaving one to wonder, what are the things the storm can never touch?

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The text: Psalm 139 – NRSV

So today, on this Monday and St. Patrick’s Day, we are dealing with a titan. Psalm 139 is well known and loved for many reasons, but perhaps among them are the astonishing claims it makes about the incredibly personal nature of our relationship with God. There is so much to be said, and we can only begin here. The psalm is hard to classify, as it has elements of trust, wisdom, praise, and toward the end, anger. To me, the psalmist is deeply faithful yet deeply troubled, perhaps by those people mentioned v. 19-24, and perhaps even more because of the psalmist’s awareness of how close this relationship with God is.

To begin, we cannot hide any part of ourselves from God. This God who knew all about us before we existed sees us more clearly and transparently than we will ever see ourselves. Here’s the problem: we put on masks and hide behind them all the time. We set up all manner of psychological defenses. We lie to ourselves about ourselves continuously. We are so accustomed to our masks and lies that even the slightest thought of full exposure is terrifying. Then our fear response kicks in, our higher brain shuts down, and it all becomes that much worse. As Paul says, I find it to be a law that, when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched person that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Exactly. You see now why the poor psalmist is conflicted? And we haven’t even considered all the things about ourselves that are completely unknown to us (but known to God)! So the horrifying problem and the profoundly good news of this psalm is that in our relationship with God, full exposure is our continuous state.

Many years ago a light bulb flashed in my mind while reading about the practice of continual prayer, the idea that all of life can be considered one unbroken prayer. This prayer is rarely verbal, but instead an awareness that in everything we do, God is right there beside us, doing it with us. To me, it is inescapable that this is precisely the kind of relationship that Psalm 139 asserts, at least from God’s side! What if the “where can I go” language in v. 7-12 is less about a physical journey and more of a mental, emotional, or spiritual journey? If so, if we take this psalm seriously, what are the consequences for our prayer lives? Perhaps one answer is that when we pray, we don’t need to tell God things that God already knows (which is basically everything about us). We may need to spend more time listening to God reveal to us things about ourselves that we don’t know! Here’s another problem, and I suspect the psalmist knew it all too well: if through our relationship with God we learn more about ourselves, then there is a 100% chance that this knowledge will cause us to change. The psalmist really wanted to hate those people and have God kill them. But just like Jonah was very concerned that God might have mercy on those Ninevites, I bet the psalmist was very concerned that God had other ideas. Why else would the psalm end with the questions in v. 23-24? This is the inherent risk and joy of sanctification, the journey of faith. We can always be better. There is always a next step.

Oh, what a beautiful and dangerous psalm this is!

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Want to catch up on any you missed? See them all by clicking on ‘Lenten Psalms” below.