A Psalm for Early Spring
You have been invited, in this season, to reflect and also to pour out your soul. The Psalmist is pouring out the soul, or as the Hebrew can translate the word for soul, pouring out one’s emotions, one’s life, one’s very breath, as if gasping for the air between sobs. Literally, the Psalmist has been poured out, marking it with tears that have been as food night and day. The soul is “downcast” and “disquieted,” or “disturbed.” Why have you [God] forgotten me? the Psalmist queries.
You know this. In some deep way, you know your own pouring out of the soul. You are spent, empty, tired. You feel isolated, disconnected. All around you, your “enemies” jeer—people who feel threatened by you or who have yet to welcome you; there are the failures at your feet, the disastrous program, the loss of income, unmet expectations, the work that overwhelms, and the injustices that anger; critical funds have been pulled, relationships have broken, faith falters, the kingdom of God seems, not at hand, but certainly far off.
A choice soon approaches. You know you cannot live on this way. You make a choice to believe—if only out of a desperate need and not some noble ability on your part. You choose to believe that God, the One whose very presence connects all living things, the One who has called you, sustains you just as all creation is sustained, this One, is good. You realize that as clichéd as it can sound, or as poster-perfect but intellectually unsatisfying it can be, believing that God is good is something like a soothing warmth on a cool, spring’s night.
There, even in the darkness, God is present, at work. “Deep calls to deep.” Beneath the muddy grounds, there is life anew, blossoming and approaching. There, in the darkness, you will receive your strength. And from there, you will offer your life’s song to others. Amen.
Comments? Contact the Office of Student Life