Читать книгу The Psalms - Herbert O'Driscoll - Страница 37

Psalm 30

You have turned my wailing into dancing;

you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.

There are times when we experience mortal fear, when all we ask is to survive a serious threat. We are not concerned about our pride or dignity. We ask, pray, bargain, and plead. Whether or not we are the kind of person who readily uses religious language, we are in fact pleading with God, if for no other reason than that we are in the realm where life and death meet.

Such things are the matter of this psalm. “O Lord my God, I cried out to you … I was going down to the grave.” This is the language of doctors’ offices and hospital corridors, of solitary walks with our own lonely terrible fears.

At such times we can realize how much we take life for granted, how sweet its seemingly ordinary things can be when we face the possibility of losing them, and how we can come to trust in our own strength and abilities. “While I felt secure, I said, ‘I shall never be disturbed. You Lord … made me as strong as the mountains.’”

But our experience is full of surprises. “Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear.” Suddenly there is shocking change in our lives. A phone rings, a letter is opened, a carefully measured voice gives us a diagnosis, a relationship is hurt by the discovery of betrayal. Light changes to darkness; music falls silent. Our own voice is that of the psalmist. “I go down to the Pit … have mercy … Lord, be my helper.”

Now comes the voice of other times we have known. “You have lifted me up … You restored me to health.” We recognize the surge of returning life in such moments when a great shadow has been lifted. We want to share the good news. We find ourselves laughing and babbling our relief, as does the psalmist. “My heart sings to you … I will give you thanks!”

Now that the terror is lifted, we forget the hours of fear and worry that became weeks and even months. The threat, the feeling of life betraying us, the thought of God being angry at us for some reason—all seem now to be “but the twinkling of an eye.” The pleading and the promises have become memories. If we dared to be completely truthful, perhaps they are even a little embarrassing.

But whatever our subsequent days may be after such an experience, we have had a clear glass held before us. We have seen deeply into our humanity, and learned its need for grace beyond itself.

Consider some of the important things in life that you tend to take for granted. Thank God for these things. Consider people, both near to you and far from you, who lack such things. Ask God to give those who “have” compassion for those who “have not.”