A Song of Despair and Praise: Diverse Songbooks as a Space for Honest Engagement with God
By Kärt Lazic
Psalm 22:2-3
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest. Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel."
In Psalm 22, David has written lyrics to the tune of "The Deer of the Dawn" that embody in one song the contrast echoing through human history. Under that contrast thunders a question from beyond galaxies: "Is God worthy of our praise? Does God deserve that we proclaim God good? That the entire universe declares God's righteousness? Acknowledges God's throne and crown?"
It is precisely against that background that David lives his life with God. He casts a glance around and struggles to identify the fruits of God's praiseworthiness in his life. He has lost his good reputation; enemies are at his door, his circumstances have made him an object of ridicule, and his conditions have publicly placed his theology in a tight spot (verses 7-9). And as if this was not enough, the tentacles of despair reach much further than just his external conditions: In all of this, David can no longer hear God's voice. "O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest." (verse 3) The picture that David paints of the state of his life and his soul is devastatingly gloomy. And yet…
"Yet," David interjects in his cry of misery, "you are holy, enthroned on the praises [1] of Israel." God, what am I to do when my theory mismatches my reality to such a degree? When what I am determined to consider true in my soul finds no confirmation in practice? When my ideological idealism seems almost ironic in the light of the facts of my life? How can it be that the one seated on a throne made of the songbook of an entire nation—in other words, whose crown-worthiness is corroborated by stories that have, generation upon generation, given people the reason to declare God good and righteous—that that Holy One has forsaken me?
And yet, it is the very same bitter contradiction that simultaneously encourages David: My hymnal testifies that someone somewhere, on their own skin, once experienced God's worshipworthiness, and it resulted in a song of praise. And if someone somewhere once did, perhaps I, too, will find the strength to wrestle through the valley of the shadow of death with my Lord. Perhaps I, too, will one day be composing happier tunes next to my elegies.
— You have answered me! — (verse 21)
And just like that, in the second half of the song, David is carving out his section of God's throne: "I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you /…/ From you comes my praise in the great congregation…" (verses 22 and 25). Just like in his despair, David holds nothing back in his praise—everything to God! Everything to the congregation. He knows his song of praise has a place in the hymnal the tunes of which the next generations will hum, and the lyrics of which will strengthen them, as they cling to the concreteness of God's goodness with all their might. Perhaps, just for a moment, David even feels the jolt of a foreknowing in his gut—a sense that the lyrics of this particular song might echo longer and further than many other songs he has composed, but it is unlikely that he fully envisioned that one evening a bunch of men would sing from that hymnal in the upper room. And that after finishing the hymn, they would go out to the Mount of Olives (Matthew 26). Or that only a day later, God himself would choose to cite that song in the middle of the culmination of the grand project of revealing his goodness—cite it for its contrast, in encouragement, and as a promise.
The story in and of Psalm 22 is a powerful testimony to the importance of using a variety of music (and arts in general) to hold space for different human experiences in their relationship with the divine—the pretty and the ugly, the hopeful and the desperate, the song of praise and the song of despair. All to God, and (note!) all to the congregation!
Let us, then, with honesty sing the part of Psalm 22 that resonates with our hearts today. If we're in the middle of the first half, let us bring our song of despair to God and remind ourselves of the songs of praise composed by all who went before us—so we can know that God will answer us! If our souls are brimming with praise, let us permit it to come out as a song, let us write it, sing it in the congregation and beyond—let us add courageously to the songbook that God has gladly turned into his throne.
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The Hebrew word used here can also mean “song of praise.”
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Kärt Lazic is a featured presenter at the upcoming 22nd annual Andrews University Music & Worship Conference, February 13–15, 2025. Learn more and register here.
