1 Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.
2 Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
3 My soul is in deep anguish.
How long, Lord, how long?
4 Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
save me because of your unfailing love.
5 Among the dead no one proclaims your name.
Who praises you from the grave?
6 I am worn out from my groaning.
All night long I flood my bed with weeping
and drench my couch with tears.
7 My eyes grow weak with sorrow;
they fail because of all my foes.
8 Away from me, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
9 The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
10 All my enemies will be overwhelmed with shame and anguish;
they will turn back and suddenly be put to shame.
Though I cried out yesterday, I cry out again today. My pain is not decreasing. All around me, I look for you. I wait for you. How long will this go on? The Psalmist is not afraid to restate his needs and concerns. Or, the depth at which they affect him.
It almost sounds as though his circumstances are torturous – as though his state of mind is unrelentingly burdensome, like that of a man wandering in the desert, unable to relinquish his strong thirst for water. But, instead of water, he thirsts for God’s face. His presence. His touch. His victory.
It sounds dramatic, but is it? Life’s periods in the valley can be long and drawn out. Many are our hours and minutes of need. Deep are the ways in which our souls can hunger. God is there, desiring a connection with us. He can relieve the agony in our bones and the deep anguish in our souls. Let us pray to Him.
Father, we turn to you with our heaviness. Each day brings new blessings, but each day can also bring pains that are real. We need you to sense your realness just as strongly. Just as closely. Lord, please hear your children. Hear our weeping and our cries for mercy. Accept our prayers. Amen.