Removed from their original Hebrew context, we don’t sense them as poetry, let alone lyrics.
These were the ancient worship songs of Israel. Studying them teaches us something about worship songs. They are brutally honest expressions of every kind of human emotion.
Our modern worship songs are narrow in scope, telling God that he is good, telling God that we love him, reciting canonical truths about what he has accomplished for us. Those are not bad things, but the Psalms tell us that worship lyrics can be deeper.
Much deeper.
We can cry out in anger, fear, misery, frustration. We can express doubt and horror. We can blame and exaggerate and use sarcasm. The lyrics of the Psalms are often brutally honest and even confused. Reading these lyrics speaks permission for a deeper and more honest kind of singing in our worship of God.
I was reflecting on this as I read two contrasting psalms, both of them lyrics to songs whose melodies are long forgotten.
Psalm 23 is beloved. In The Message the translation is rendered:
God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through Death Valley,
I'm not afraid
when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd's crook
makes me feel secure.
You serve me a six-course dinner
right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
my cup brims with blessing.
Your beauty and love chase after me
every day of my life.
I'm back home in the house of God
for the rest of my life.
Many of us remember these lyrics in various other translations. The words are safe and comforting. These lyrics are what we expect in a reassuring worship song. We want to sing it over and over.
Yes, Psalm 23 is beautiful and it’s model for our own modern worship songs. That’s fine.
But what struck me, on reflection, were the lyrics to the song just before this one.
Psalm 22 starts like this:
God, God...my God! Why did you dump me
miles from nowhere?
Doubled up with pain, I call to God
all the day long. No answer. Nothing.
I keep at it all night, tossing and turning.
And you! Are you indifferent, above it all,
leaning back on the cushions of Israel's praise?
We know you were there for our parents:
they cried for your help and you gave it;
they trusted and lived a good life.
And here I am, a nothing-an earthworm,
something to step on, to squash.
Everyone pokes fun at me;
they make faces at me, they shake their heads:
"Let's see how God handles this one;
since God likes him so much, let him help him!”…
Not a conventional worship song? Too personal? Too depressing? Lyrics that accuse God of indifference in the midst of my suffering? Who would dare put that to music?
Who would remember lyrics like that in a time of despair?
I asked myself those questions.
Then I reflected on one of the most poignant truths in all of the Bible.
Jesus Christ, my savior, hung suffering and dying on a Roman cross, the ultimate innocent lamb paying once and for all for your imperfections and shortcomings…paying once and for all for my imperfections and shortcomings. As he suffered there what came to his lips were lyrics from an ancient song he had known since childhood. Songs have a way of transcending logic and speaking when isolated words can’t. Jesus used lyrics to speak beyond time. We’re not told that he sung these words, but he might well have.
Jesus didn’t sing lyrics from the encouraging Psalm 23.
He chose the lyrics of Psalm 22.
Matthew 27 records the moment:
From noon to three, the whole earth was dark. Around mid-afternoon Jesus groaned out of the depths, crying loudly, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"
At that moment he sang an ancient worship song to us.
We don’t need to be afraid of honest worship songs like that.
He wasn’t.
4.10.18
No comments:
Post a Comment