A Place of Rest

At the end of September, I began reading the Psalms.  I read one each day.  Last night, I read Psalm 88.  If you do the math, you'll note that I've skipped some days, but not many.  The reason I read every night is not that I'm a very disciplined person.  No, it's just easy like dessert after dinner.  Every night before I bed, I open the Bible and know God has something to tell me--little old me.  It is very much like dessert after dinner.

So, last night was interesting.  I will include Psalm 88 here so you can have the context.  Please bear with the length and that it's the Bible for those of you who may not be so inclined to read it.

O LORD, the God who saves me,
     day and night I cry out before you.
May my prayer come before you;
     turn your ear to my cry.

For my soul is full of trouble
     and my life draws near the grave.
I am counted among those who down to the pit;
     I am like a man without strength.
I am set apart with the dead,
     like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
     who are cut off from your care.

You have put me in the lowest pit,
     in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily upon me;
     you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.
You have taken from me my closest friends
     and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
     my eyes are dim with grief.

I call to you, O LORD, every day;
     I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
     Do those who are dead rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave,
     your faithfulness in Destruction?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
     or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?

But I cry to you for help, O LORD;
     in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, O LORD, do you hide your face from me?

From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death;
     I have suffered your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me:
     your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
     they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken my companions and loved ones from me;
     the darkness is my closest friend. (emphasis mine)

In Bible Study Fellowship this year, we have learned about the Psalms since we are studying books of the Bible that include King David's life.  He wrote many of the Psalms, but not this one.  We've learned that there are three different types of Psalms:  Hymn (Praise), Thanksgiving, and Lament.  I bet you can guess which type this one is.  More than half of the Psalms are laments.  What I find interesting is that Psalm 88 does not follow the normal pattern of a lament which is a cry or plea that leads to confession and then praise.  Do you notice how this one ends?  "The darkness is my closest friend."  This is not an ending of praise.

From our life circumstances, anyone would understand if darkness described the condition of my soul.  You could sympathize if I was crying out to God and "my eyes were dim with grief."  There is absolutely nothing wrong or sinful about this psalmist's response.  On the contrary, a lament is everything right.  It is our heart cry that God wants, whatever it may be. I considered this and thought, "But this is not me right now.  Even in this difficulty, I am not in a season of lament, but rather in a place of rest."  How could that be?  Why am I not lamenting?  Rest, really?  Herein lies my reflection of the past week since finding out more about our Wylie.

Love makes a place for rest.  She nurtures a soul to admit weariness in the bones.  She is so gentle in her pursuit as she lulls and quiets any noise or agitation.  Her acceptance entreats a vulnerable laying down of anything heavy or cumbersome.  Guards fall and hands fold in the lap--peaceful surrender.  That's what love does sometimes.  That's what love has done for me this week.

All your prayers, all your kind words, all your help, all your blessings have made room for rest.  Even now.  Even in this.  Thank you.