“No One Cares,” He Said.

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell all my trouble. When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. In the path where I walk men have hidden a snare for me. Look to my right and see; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge, no one cares for my life. I cry to you, O Lord; I say, "you are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living." Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me. Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me. Psalm 142

I’m drawn to the Psalms of lament, and I appreciate David’s frank vulnerability in this particular one. Did you catch that in the midst of his trying circumstances there also sits loneliness? "No one is concerned for me. I have no refuge, no one cares for my life."  I would wager most people who have endured suffering could speak to the loneliness of such, even within the church. It’s a sad reality which breaks my heart. This should not be in the body of Christ: this loneliness whether perceived or actual. This is a tragedy compounding sorrow. 

We know there is no greater comfort than that of our Comforter. There is no ear that listens so well as our Father. In our sorrow we do well to remember this. Over the past fifteen months there have been times when even the ones who’ve stayed and loved me so well just did not or could not offer what I needed. I remember a specific time where the Lord made it clear that no one else could really know the pain in that moment except himself. I was lonely, but I wasn’t alone. Here, David (the psalmist) is an example to me in that he allows the tragedy itself and the resulting loneliness to press him into the One who sees and cares deeply. Press in and cry out. That's been a mantra of mine. 

In his desperation he cries to the Lord, "set me free from my prison." Why? What does he expect will happen? This is especially difficult for me to think on. "THEN the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me." This saddens me. Why can he not expect the righteous to show up in his darkest hour BEFORE he is granted relief? Is it that he believes only when there is a resolution, a freedom from his prison, only when God's goodness in the situation is revealed THEN God's people will gather round him? This seems so opposite of what it should be. 

Yes, we as Christ followers want the Lord to receive praise when the captive is set free, but what about the praise of his goodness even when we sit in the prison of dark sorrow? What if he does not release us from a particular prison this side of eternity? Are we not to still praise him for his goodness and surround those sitting in the dank cells with prayer, love, and encouragement? 

This all reminds me of a "phenomenon" of sorts I have observed in many well-meaning and precious churches over the years. We so often will bring people before the church for corporate prayer when it is either a celebratory circumstance (graduations, baby dedications, commissioning in ministry, etc) or when the outcome we hope for is still a possibility (healing, restored relationship, etc). 

Yet, where are we in bringing these people before the body of Christ to be touched, encouraged, and prayed over when all hope for our expectations being met is gone? When the child dies? When the divorce is final? When the healing is not to come this side of eternity? When they face their darkest hour? When God's goodness in the situation is not clearly seen? When the discomfort and awkwardness linger like a sour note? What does this say to them, the world outside the church, and to their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ when we bring them forward in happy, hopeful moments, but corporately neglect this service in their darkest most hopeless and sorrowful moments? 

Some might say this particular Psalm ends on a positive note. I'm not so sure. I could be wrong, but I'm so encouraged by the frankness of scripture and the sheer amount of lament found within its pages. The Lord knew our hearts would need both the rejoicing and the mourning; he invites them both. He also instructs us to do both. "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15. Pondering over this Psalm makes me grateful for the ones who do press in even when it's hard to see God's goodness and the prison still stands. My prayer is that we (that I) may be a people that encourage others with our presence as they cry out to God. May people not feel there must be a happy outcome or resolution before they can expect God's people (myself most included) to show up. 

God forgive us. 

God help us.