Psalm 77

"Has his faithful love ceased forever?"

The spiritual life doesn't proceed in a linear fashion. Intimacy with God doesn't follow a smooth course. The Psalms give ample evidence of this. 

In the contemplative tradition, these seasons of struggle are both necessary and purifying. Necessary as we begin the journey of faith with false ideas and immature expectations. A lot of idolatry is baked into our relationship with God. All this must be confronted, challenged, burnt away. It's not a pleasant process. We feel betrayed, dismayed, and disoriented. The God who had been so close and attentive is now experienced as absent or antagonistic. We ask with the psalmist, "Has his faithful love ceased forever?" 

I'm struck by the object of the question. God's "faithful love" is hesed. And if you know anything about hesed, you know that this is the very word that speaks to God's faithfulness and fidelity. To wonder aloud about hesed "ceasing forever" is a very deep and significant challenge, questioning the very integrity and character of God. If hesed can "cease forever" it was never hesed in the first place.

In the midst of this despair, the psalmist looks back. Memory comes to his aid:

I will remember the Lord’s works;
yes, I will remember your ancient wonders.
I will reflect on all you have done
and meditate on your actions.

Remember. Reflect. Meditate. God's faithfulness in the past provides hope for the present. There is some intentionality on display here, how the poet directs his attention. A discipline of memory. Commitment to the story. 

In The Shape of Joy, which I talked about last week, I describe how possessing a transcendent narrative identity is associated with psychological resiliency. You see that on display in Psalm 77, how the story comes to the poet's rescue. And worth pointing out, in a bit of a challenge to our individualistic age, is how the poet's story is communal and collective. This is Israel's story, and the poet is a part of it. This bigger story transcends the merely personal. This experience, as I also describe in The Shape of Joy, triggers wonder and awe:

God, your way is holy.
What god is great like God?
You are the God who works wonders.

This wonder creates what psychologists call a "small self," a more connected, humble, and relational self that fits into a larger whole. My story finds its place in that bigger story creating capacities for self-transcendence in the midst of the darkness.