Sermon Text: Psalm 42
Date: June 23, 2024
Event: Proper 7, Year B
Psalm 42 (EHV)
For the choir director. A maskil by the Sons of Korah.
As a doe pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, O God.
2My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and appear before God?
3My tears have been food for me day and night,
while people are saying to me all day,
“Where is your God?”
4I am overcome by my emotions
whenever I remember these things:
how I used to arrive with the crowd,
as I led the procession to the house of God,
with loud shouts of thanksgiving,
with the crowd celebrating the festival.
5Why are you so depressed, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Hope in God, for I will again praise him
for salvation from his presence.
6My God, my soul is depressed within me.
Therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan,
from the heights of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
7Deep calls to deep in the roar of your rapids.
All your breakers and your waves have swept over me.
8By day the Lord commands his mercy,
and at night his song is with me—a prayer to the God of my life.
9I say to God my Rock, “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go around mourning because of oppression by the enemy?”
10It is like breaking my bones when my foes taunt me.
All day long they say to me, “Where is your God?”
11Why are you so depressed, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Hope in God, for I will again praise him
for my salvation from the face of my God.
Why Are You So Depressed, O My Soul?
You might not have been there or experienced anything like it, but we can probably work to empathize with the psalm writer this morning. He sits in a foreign land, Babylon, cut off from not only his home and the home of his ancestors but also the land that God had promised to give them. Jerusalem, the city where God had said he was going to place his name, had been conquered, and the temple, the great reminder of God’s presence with them in stone, wood, and precious materials, lies a ruin after the destruction of the Babylonian army.
So now, the inspired poet pours out his heart and soul to God. He’s not just homesick, he’s engulfed in a profound sense of hopelessness. There is no temple, tabernacle, or place to focus his worship. He cries out in despair, but it must feel like shouting into the void. Is anyone listening? Does anyone care? If God did care, why is he letting these things happen?
He knows the reasons for all of this. God had been clear through the prophets that the Israelites, his people, had been unfaithful to him for generations. There had been bright spots occasionally, yes, but on the whole, things had been bad. Many people in Israel, from the least to the most powerful, had dedicated themselves to worshiping false gods—the fertility gods of Baal and Asherah, but also, in extreme cases, horrendous gods like Molech, who demanded the sacrifice of children in fire.
The psalm writer repeatedly asks himself a question in this psalm: “Why are you so depressed, O my soul?” The answer seems pretty obvious. “Why? Because things are bad—really, really bad. They seem to be getting worse, and there seems to be no way out. So what is left but depression-fueled despair?”
We have the theme of storms running through our readings for this morning. Be it literal, natural storms on the Sea of Galilee for the disciples and on the Mediterranean for the apostle Paul, to what we might call the storms of life that Job and the psalm writer endure. Being trapped in a storm, literally or figuratively, is a totally helpless feeling. If you’ve never been on a boat amid a raging storm, perhaps you’ve been driving a car in rough weather, slipping on ice, or losing control hydroplaning on a rain-drenched road. Things go really badly quickly, and you feel utterly powerless to do anything. You can’t control the wind and the waves; once the tires have lost contact with the road surface, braking, steering, or acceleration will make little difference.
Is that what your life feels like? Do you feel like you're flying down the highway in a vehicle spinning wildly out of control? Do you crave help, care, direction, and stability but feel there is none? My dear Christian, you are not alone.
The psalm writer is reflecting on the past. The loss of what he thought he would always have is overwhelming. I am overcome by my emotions whenever I remember these things: how I used to arrive with the crowd, as I led the procession to the house of God. Over and over again, he replays what it was like to worship God in Solomon’s glorious temple. He was even a leader of that worship, and now that’s all gone. He sits in this foreign land, cut off from everything he held dear.
But as these thoughts fester and accumulate, the psalmist tries to correct course: Why are you so depressed, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I will again praise him for salvation from his presence. Things feel really bad, and everything is different than he hoped for. He can easily feel cut off from God, but he reminds himself that his relationship with God has not changed. God still loves and cares about him. This is a powerful reminder for us in our own times of despair and distress.
Consider something very similar in our Gospel for this morning. The disciples fight the storm, and an exhausted Jesus sleeps in the stern. Their cry comes to Jesus amid fear and panic: “Don’t you care that we are about to drown?” (Mark 4:38). Well, what’s the answer? Of course, Jesus cares! But it sure didn’t look or feel like it when the storm threatened to destroy the boat, and it seemed their lives were forfeit. After showing his ultimate control over nature, Jesus asks his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still lack faith?” (Mark 4:40).
In our Second Reading, Paul has bad and good news for his shipmates. There would be no calming of this storm. The ship would be torn to pieces, and the cargo would be lost. But God had assured Paul that the lives of everyone aboard were safe. Paul said to those on the ship with him: “But now I urge you to keep up your courage, because there will be no loss of life among you…. last night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood beside me… So keep up your courage, men, because I believe God that it will be exactly the way I have been told” (Acts 27:22-26). In other words, “Things are going to go from bad to worse, but I belong to God and know that he will do exactly as he promised.”
The psalm writer continues battling his thoughts and emotions in our psalm for this morning. He acknowledges to God what he is feeling; even for himself, he validates his emotions and acknowledges that they are real. But he also sees that his thoughts and feelings are not the be-all, end-all of reality. My God, my soul is depressed within me. Therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan… Depression grips him, but he turns his attention away from the inward, downward spiral and towards the promises of God, remembering what God has said and done.
The fears and concerns of this life sap our energy physically, emotionally, and spiritually. So where do we find rest? We thirst for God like a parched deer desperately seeking out a stream of water. We must look outside ourselves and find hope not in what things feel like or how we consider our present circumstances but in the God who made us.
The psalm writer’s work has a lot of similarities to modern therapeutic treatment. A therapist or counselor will encourage people to examine their thoughts and see what can be modified. For example, if I am overwhelmed by the thoughts that I am a failure to those depending on me or my work is an unproductive disaster, I can start challenging those thoughts. “Is that real or just what I’m thinking? Is it actually as bad as it feels, or is there some nuance there? What if I changed the way I’m thinking about this situation?” If I change my thoughts by acknowledging where there are distortions, often my emotions follow along.
But we Christians can take this even one massive step further. We don’t have to rely on the hope that probably things won’t be as bad as we think they might be. We have God's firm and certain promises. The one who gives these promises calmed a raging storm with just a word; he is trustworthy.
What has God promised you? And what would Satan want you to forget or doubt? To be clear, God has not promised a happy-go-lucky life. Jesus was clear that life in this world would mean bearing crosses. The thought that the life of a Christian should be easy and smooth is a vicious lie that seeks to undermine us and our faith in our weakest moments. No, God did not say there would be no distressful days in our lives, but he did promise, “Call on me in the day of distress. I will deliver you, and you will honor me” (Psalm 50:15).
There will always be deliverance from troubles, even if it “only” comes in eternal life. Sometimes, God has decided to let the trouble we’re experiencing remain. But it’s never because he’s angry at us, doesn’t like us, or has left us. In some way, God is working that trouble for good. I would dare not speculate this morning about what good God is working through your specific troubles, but that is perhaps a good question to ponder for yourself. Instead of weeping and wailing, “Why won’t you take this away, Lord? Why are you letting this happen to me?” perhaps we do better to focus on the question, “What good might the Lord work through this temporary or permanent hardship?” And perhaps even follow up those thoughts with a prayer, asking God to help you to see the good he’s working, if that is his will.
Satan would have you see trouble as God forgetting you, holding out on you, or even hating you. But my dear sisters and brothers, this is not the case, no matter how real it may feel or how intrusive the thoughts are. Let’s zero in on a few more promises of God that remain true no matter what we’re thinking or feeling:
God is with you and is powerful enough to control things for your good. God will not give up on you; you will make it through this, and it will end well. He promises through the apostle Paul in Romans 8: We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, for those who are called according to his purpose… If God is for us, who can be against us? Indeed, he who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also graciously give us all things along with him? (Romans 8:28, 31-32).
Sin has consequences, but whether it’s the result of my or others’ sin, the consequences do not indicate that God is done with me. In fact, God will never be “done” with me because Jesus bought me with his blood; he paid the whole price for my sins. God’s comfort rings out through the promise of a Savior in Isaiah: It was because of our rebellion that he was pierced. He was crushed for the guilt our sins deserved. The punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all have gone astray like sheep. Each of us has turned to his own way, but the Lord has charged all our guilt to him (Isaiah 53:5-6).
You are not a victim of your circumstances but a conqueror through your Savior, Jesus. Again, Romans 8: What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers, neither things present nor things to come, nor powerful forces, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35, 37-39).
Why are you so depressed, O my soul? To one degree or another, we all ask this question regularly. Why are you so down? What is so grievous that things cannot be fixed? But on the really bad days, we might not even get that far. We might not feel able to challenge those thoughts and feelings. Everything can feel dark and hopeless.
Martin Luther struggled with depression regularly. At a particularly low time for him, his wife, Katie, came to where he was; she was dressed completely in black. Luther took notice of his wife’s attire and asked if she was going to a funeral. “Well,” Katie said, “you were so down that I figured the only possible explanation was that God had died, and we all should be in mourning.” That helped to snap Luther out of it and focus on the promises God had made and the things he had done.
The truth is, God did die, but that doesn’t produce despair; it brings joy and confident hope. The bloody cross means you have no eternal reason to be down. While God did die on that Good Friday, he did not stay dead. He conquered your sin on that cross and rose to prove that he is the victor and to show that nothing, no trouble or sadness or sin, could ever separate us from him. Drag yourself to Golgatha to see your Savior abandoned by his Father for you. Claw your way to the garden tomb, and even if tears cloud your eyes like they did for Mary, see the tomb where they laid him, empty; see your Savior alive and well in front of you.
And maybe this isn’t your struggle. Maybe it’s not something you deal with regularly. Or maybe you, at least, have times of respite and relief. Then, you can serve others by bringing them to Jesus yet again. You might not have answers or solutions, and you might not have any way to calm someone’s anxiety, bring peace to their panic, or uplift their downcast heart, but you can share Jesus and his love with them. You can remind them of the promises of God and lift up their eyes to the one who saved them from their sins and will bring them to eternal life.
In good days, but especially in troubling ones, hold on to the psalm writer’s question and direction: Why are you so depressed, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I will again praise him for my salvation from the face of my God. Things will work out for your good, and God will give you the strength to endure the sorrows of this life. God has promised, and so it will be. Amen.
