I cry to the LORD with my voice; to the LORD I make loud supplication.
This is a hard psalm for me to say. I was the youngest child. As kids, my brothers had little desire for my company. One of them took every opportunity to say and to do hurtful things to me, and when as a small child I cried, then I was a cry-baby, beneath contempt. Tormenting me seemed to be his hobby.
By age five or six, I had decided that it was better to be borderline invisible than to make a fuss about anything. Better to be ignored than to be vulnerable.
King David (or whoever wrote this psalm) considers it highly appropriate to “cry out” and make sure God hears – full volume, please! I shrink back. No fuss, please. Let ‘er rip, yes, in praise and song and celebration. But in times of physical or emotional pain or trouble, well then: whining is not okay; no one wants to hear that.
So as an adult, it’s been a bit of a revelation to discover that real men do cry. That real people learn to be open about who they are. Real people ally themselves with spiritual partners – real people seek out trustworthy listeners. And learn to be trustworthy listeners themselves.
I admire the human behind Psalm 142. This was someone who was wholeheartedly opening him/herself to God.
Not a bad model to follow.
Lord, we all know that short verse, “Jesus wept.” Thank you for leading us as you opened yourself to the fullness of your humanity which is lived in the fullness of God. Stay with us and be our Guide and Savior always. Amen.