Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him
For the help of His countenance.
– Psalm 42:5
I had a teacher once who shared a thought that has stuck with me. In a class discussion about theology, the comment was made that good theology has balance to it. The teacher’s perspective was slightly different. Rather than thinking of it as balance, his preference was to think of it as tension. Maybe the difference between the two isn’t significant. Still, there is a nuance that I have found valuable. Tension suggests a more active resistance at work, forces that are countering the others so that the whole functions well. A trampoline makes a great illustration. The only way a trampoline works well is to have many springs pulling in opposition to one another. Tension makes it work.
Psalm 42 returns us to the subject of “why.” In the blog post Why (part 1) we considered Psalm 10:1 and the matter of gnawing questions that God leaves unanswered. The “why” of Psalm 42 is like the tension to Psalm 10. Rather than the question being posed to God, the psalmist poses the question to himself. And rather than the question expressing frustration, the “why” is used to recall a necessary piece of information, something that changes the game. Why are you cast down, O my soul? The writer knows perfectly well why his soul is cast down. Reality has burned it into his consciousness. It is not a question of curiosity; it is a question that reaches back into the memory of faith.
By now you may be noticing the emotional tension that lives in the psalms. As you move from one psalm to another, or even through the verses within a psalm, you will see the swing from anger to pleasure, from fear to security, from soul-wrenching grief to the deepest places of satisfaction. The tension helps to make the psalms real and relatable. We read them and say, “I’ve been there! I have felt exactly the same.” We know the frustration of Psalm 10 and others like it, wondering why God doesn’t do what we expect. However, if you have walked with the Lord for any substantial amount of time, you will also know the power of recalling God’s character and former deeds. That recollection is the “why” of Psalm 42.
There are a number of scenes described in the Bible that, in my opinion, powerfully illustrate how faith changes one’s perspective. One of those scenes is found in Acts 16. Paul and Silas had come to a region called Macedonia to share the gospel about Jesus Christ. They ended up being beaten with rods and thrown into a Roman prison with their feet fastened in stocks. To me, this qualifies as being a pretty rotten day. If this happened to me, I would have no problem describing why my soul would be cast down and disquieted. Apparently, though, Paul and Silas knew how to ask the second “why” question. In the middle of the night they are “praying and singing hymns to God” (Acts 16:25). Those acts of faith prime us to remember who God is. His nature is good and His love unwavering. Great is His faithfulness. If we have observed God’s faithfulness to us in the past, we know He will be faithful to work in the future, in the time and manner that is best.
The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,
And in the night His song shall be with me—
A prayer to the God of my life.
– Psalm 42:8
The person of faith lives in the tension between two seasons: daytime and night. The daytime is when we are actively seeing the hand of God work; the night is when we are waiting for His hand to work again. God does not abandon us in the night; His song is with us. When we are in the really dark nights, asking the “why” of pain and frustration, it is good to raise the “why” of remembrance. The daytime is coming again. Knowing that changes our perspective. And since you know it is coming, go ahead and sing.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
– Horatio Spafford




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