Keep Psalm and Carry On, March 4

Friday, March 4

Psalm 42:9-11: I say to God, my rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?”

As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, “Where is your God?”

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

I am always drawn to the Psalms, which makes sense because poetry, journaling, and songwriting have been powerful forms of self-expression for me since I was pretty young. I actually still have a diary from a bazillion years ago when I was just about the same age as my son. Parts of it are “dear diary” entries, but a lot of it was prayer journaling. I learned at a young age that talking to God was always available to me, and that is how I built my relationship with the Divine: I just talked to God through my multi-colored retractable ballpoint pen. From the swelling in my chest, I poured out the love and pain I felt for those suffering around me, roared anger from the heat in my belly out in messy scribbles, and often smeared the pages with splashing tears. I imagine the Psalmists were pretty much the same (sans multicolor pen and jewel-tone pages.)

Why have you forgotten me?

Why can’t I change? Why can’t I kick this habit? Why, when I try so hard to speak and act from love, do I still say and do hurtful things?

Must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?

My son told me he thinks sin is like a bully that tries to force us to do things we don’t want to do, but if we learn to ignore it, eventually it will go away. I loved this. But sometimes it feels like the bully is never going to leave me alone, that I’m not strong enough to ignore it, and I feel trapped under the weight of shame and helplessness.

As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, “Where is your God?”

Listen, I don’t really have adversaries. I mean, there are some people that rub me the wrong way, and I’m sure I have some haters in the world, but I just don’t really pay them mind because emotionally, I. just. can’t. Instead, I try to draw good boundaries that allow me to love them without being abused. However, I do deeply desire to be seen for my intentions. More importantly, I want to leave a lasting net-positive impact, but my deadly wound pulls me into

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?

You know one of the most amazing things about journaling, writing, creating? Once all of that junk gets poured out, somehow, a bit of the weight lifts and there’s space again to consider hope.

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

We are not alone. We are one with God, led by the spirit, and brought into community together. We’re better together. Praise God!

For the Lent season this year, I have committed to journaling daily. I’ve been out of practice for a while, and even though my pretty, new (read: had it for five years at least) journal sits right next to my bed, I tend to choose ways of dissociating instead (read: Netflix). I haven’t committed to a format, only to put pen to paper once a day and let whatever comes to me flow out unfiltered. I invite you to join me in whatever iteration makes sense to you. As we let a little weight fall away through our pens, maybe we’ll also find a little more room to choose hope and choose love.

Kim Gnagey, Director of Worship Arts