Read: Psalm 137

For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
-Psalm 137:3

As I read the first part of this psalm, I was reminded of an episode of the NPR show “On Being with Krista Tippett” where she was interviewing Joe Carter, who spent years educating people worldwide about the meaning of African-American spirituals:

And sometimes I imagine how some of those songs were used and I imagine someone on the plantation, the master, who is always very happy when he hears the slaves singing because he knows where they are, he knows they’re not escaping, as long as he can hear them. An old master comes out one day. He says, “Hey, Joe. Big Joe. I don’t hear nobody singing down there. You guys strike me up one of them good, old spiritual songs. You know how I like them. Give me one of them good, old songs.” And often when I go to the schoolchildren, I have them sing with me. I say, “OK. Now pretend you’re going to be — you’re all slaves, OK? And master wants us to sing a song, but we don’t really want to sing for master, do we?” “No. No, we don’t.” I say, “Well, I’ll tell you something. Master loves our singing, but he doesn’t listen to the words we say. He doesn’t have a clue. So we can say anything we want. So, let’s give the master a good old song.” (Joe Carter, “The Spirituals”, May 9, 2003)

There is a very strong parallel between slaves in the antebellum South and the Israelites. Both were taken from their native lands to a foreign one, both were forced to work in inhumane conditions, and both were mocked and told to be cheerful even when they were living a miserable life. Is it any wonder that the slaves created spirituals out of Old Testament stories?

This is an “imprecatory” psalm, meaning that it calls out God to judge the psalmist’s enemies, which is why it ends with the words “O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!” (vv. 8-9) One could say that this anger is overkill, but we have to remember that it comes from a place of great pain. The anger that got BLM started is similar. It moves people to act, and if tempered, it is useful. God works in our anger, and sometimes the pain behind that anger is how God gets our attention.

Lord, be present with us in our hardships and give us your aid in tempering our anger at injustice that we might use it for better things. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: Psalm 52

I will thank you forever, because of what you have done. In the presence of the faithful I will proclaim your name, for it is good.
-Psalm 52:9

This psalm is a recounting and commentary by David, the psalmist, of the terrible events recorded in 1 Samuel 21 and 22. As he runs for his life from Saul, David seeks refuge from the priests at the tabernacle of God in the city of Nob. Doeg the Edomite informs Saul that David has been provided assistance by the priests. An angry Saul sends for the priests and Doeg kills 85 priests, and women, children, and animals in the city of Nob. The psalmist, David, condemns this massacre and prophesies what will happen to Doeg. In verse 9, David praises God for what God has not yet done. David trusts that God’s love will outlast Doeg’s evil.

Similar evil deeds exist in our world. There are those who “love evil more than good, and lying more than speaking the truth,” and who “trust in abundant riches, and seek refuge in wealth!” The Psalm calls us to “trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.” We are called to trust and we can only do it with God’s help.

Dear God, help us to have the faith and trust that we need to know that your love transcends evil. Guide us and direct us. Amen!
-Cathey Frederick

Read: Psalm 39

Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.
–Psalm 39:4

The Psalmist is in pain. He is sick and trying to keep the information from his enemies. I understand the pain, but I’m not sure I would ask God to give me my expiration date. I think it is enough to live each day to the fullest and, frankly, who cares what my enemies think? Our days are numbered. None of us is getting out of here alive. A burial office of one sort or another will be prayed over each of us.

What I fear is reaching the end and never having lived in the first place. Perhaps the psalmist isn’t asking for a peek at his sell-by date, but to be reminded that he is mortal, and for the courage to live life to its fullest. Not in that “eat, drink, and be merry” sort of worldly stupidity, but in a “how may I experience and express the love of God to the best of my ability day by day?” sort of way.

When I hurt, I am prone to snap and snarl like a wounded dog. Healing comes in time and with time. Perhaps the psalmist is asking if he or she has time to heal. I hope so. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it certainly can help, especially when we place ourselves in the hands of the One who holds the Hourglass, even when it hurts.

Lord, my days are numbered. Help me rise each day knowing you are there. Guide and direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose. Let me lie down in appreciation for the day ended, and in hope for the morrow. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg

Read: Psalm 32

For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.
-Psalm 32:4

I’ve lived in some pretty hot places in the course of my life. India; Iran; Stockton, California; Boise, Idaho. Having grown up in the temperate climate of San Francisco, it took moving far from the Bay Area to appreciate the meaning of “debilitating climate” (try Kolkata in August). But far worse, especially when coupled with the heat of summer, is the turpitude of the soul. I’d rather cross the burning deserts of Iran’s Dasht-e-Lut than experience the bone-crushing weariness of a crisis of faith and the loss of hope that attends it. But what has always saved me is love — and that love originates from a source more eternal than the sun and is just as surely reflected by those who have chosen to share that love with me.

Lord, thank you for sustaining me in my most difficult moments of doubt and anxiety, and for your constant reminder that, in the words of the psalm, “many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him. Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: Psalm 13

How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
-Psalm 13:2

A year ago on a Monday, one of my students thought it would be funny to come up behind me and poke me in the side. It backfired magnificently because I have PTSD from being assaulted by someone who grabbed me from behind, and she also managed to poke me in the ribs hard enough to leave a bruise. When I told her sternly not to do it again, she responded by laughing at me and telling me that I was overreacting. Her response triggered a massive PTSD flare-up, and I had to flee the classroom and leave campus because I was sobbing so hard. Thankfully, I have a support network of people I trust, and one of them took care of me that afternoon, getting me to the point where I could parent my son when he returned from school.

I did not have work the next day and thankfully had a therapy appointment already scheduled. My therapist had never seen me cry until that appointment, and she had the task of getting me OK enough to go back to work on Wednesday. We started trying to work through the trauma, but the pandemic hit, meaning that my sessions were now phone ones at home where I do not have as much privacy as her office. Making things harder, she left the practice a few months later, and she was replaced by a man who reminded me of my attacker. Eventually, I did get another therapist, but trust takes time to build and the trauma is sitting on my soul like an open wound. I have no choice but to heal because it will affect my future relationships if I don’t, but it is painful work to try and untangle the knots of anger and hurt.

Needless to say, verse 2 of the psalm speaks to me right now. I need the reminder of God’s presence with me as I do the work to heal, and God’s presence is not always felt. I am having to step out in faith and trust that God will be with me in all of it, and that I will eventually heal from what happened to me.

Gracious God, be with us in our pain and anger. Give us the strength we need to persevere in the midst of it and help us to trust that we will make it through to the other side. Amen.

Read: Psalm 51

Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.
-Psalm 51:10

When I was a small child, a Sunday school teacher told us that Mary was chosen by God to be the mother of Jesus, because she had been so good all her life. In my child’s mind, and in a circular way of thinking, I thought that if I were very good all the time, I might also get to be Jesus’ mother. From then on, I was as good as I could be, so I was very easy to bring up, and a delight to classroom teachers. I couldn’t understand why others thought it was so difficult to follow rules and behave as one should.

Then as I grew into adulthood, I began to find it more difficult not to sin. Or maybe I was just more aware of all the ways I could hurt others and God. God once forgave me for what I thought was an unforgivable sin, and I then understood my need for God to keep me on the straight path. I couldn’t do it on my own.

The psalmist was way ahead of me, knowing deeply how easy it is to sin, and how only God can cleanse us and set us on the right path. Most of us try not to hurt others or to do what is wrong, but, oh, how we fail. Our loving God, however, is so ready to forgive us and welcome us into God’s warm, loving embrace. Then, having been forgiven and cleansed, we can go forth again, trying to do what is right in God’s sight.

Oh, Lord, thank you for always being ready to forgive us and to lift us up into your loving arms. Without you, we cannot be whole, but with your grace, we can try always to do what is right and good. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
-Penny Worrell