Psalm 6. Honestly Speaking, God.

Today’s Lectio Divina: Excerpts from Psalm 6. (MsgB)

Please, God, no more yelling, no more trips to the woodshed.
Treat me nice for a change; I’m so starved for affection.

Can’t You see I’m black-and-blue, beat up badly in bones and soul?
God, how long will it take for You to let up?

Break in, God, and break up this fight; if You love me at all, get me out of here.
I’m no good to you dead, am I? I can’t sing in Your choir if I’m buried in some tomb!

One of the most surprising things about the Bible is that it contains some pretty crass words.

Words that one doesn’t expect to find in a holy book. Words spoken by people who get damn tired of waiting for God to act on their behalf. Words spoken by real people. Not saints. Not holy people. People just like you and me. People who aren’t always the pretty people. People who struggle with life. People who get P.O.’d on occasion. People who love God but just don’t understand how in the hell He works. People who go to church, sing in the choir, but have a real problem with depression and despair after they leave the Sunday service.

My kind of people.

Real people with real problems. Real people with a bit of crap in their lives. Real people who can’t always find the doorknob to God’s doorway to life. Real people who shake their head in wonder. Real people who truly believe in their God but walk through life wondering at times where God turned left when I turned right.

Maybe that’s why Psalm 6 is so attractive to me.

Here is King David. A man after God’s own heart. A man who has been accurately portrayed as being one of the most godly men in the Bible. And here he is, lying on his bed of tears, yelling to the ceiling tiles, wondering if God really cares for him in the midst of his troubles.

Hooray. Hallelujah.

This gives me real hope for my life. I hope it does for you as well.

To know that David, one of God’s favorites, has days in his life like this is one of the most freeing thoughts found in God’s Word.

Think of it.

If David can talk this way to God, then that opens the doorway for me to be gut honest with the Big Guy upstairs as well!

This gives me the freedom to be gut honest with the God I love. I can shout. I can pout. I can yell. I can raise hell.

And through it all, I can rest assured that my Father in heaven is not turning away in anger or frustration. I can know full well, because God’s Word tells me so, that God listens patiently and lovingly to my rants and raves, knowing full well that He still plans to embrace me, His broken child, after it’s all said and done.

Now that’s love. Deep love. Real love. Amazing love.

My prayer: Thank You, God, for allowing Your Holy Word to contain such crass, gut-honest prayers. Thank You that You are not looking for perfect, pretty people, but Your heart is turned toward me even when I am found deeply disappointed and honestly frustrated with You and life itself. For Your name’s sake. Amen.

My questions to ponder: If God’s Word allows for such gut-honesty, why is it so many church settings today don’t? Why is David’s prayer life allowed to be crass and full of doubt, and yet we tell people that their prayers need to be sanitized and full of faith? What might it look like for God’s people to be given permission to be as gut-honest with their prayers as King David is here in Psalm 6?

So what is God speaking to you today as you ponder the Psalms?

Over a 50-week period, you and I will take a deeper look at The Psalms: God’s Songbook of Prayers. In order to keep all the blog sessions organized, we suggest you bookmark our Contemplating the Psalms home page for ease of use. Keep in mind that one of the best ways to explore the on-going applications of this blog series is to walk alongside a biblically-based, Christ-centered spiritual director who is familiar with how to make material like this part of your overall spiritual formation in God. Many of our directors in our Sustainable Faith-Heartland network are available to companion you in your journey with Jesus. Click here for more info.

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