I remember the morning (many years ago) when Psalm 135 became memorable to me. I started reading and meditating on this psalm on a stormy morning. There was a thunderstorm raging outside. And, I slowly read these lines: “He it is who makes the clouds rise at the end of the earth; he makes lightnings for the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses.” (v.7 NRSV) So, now, when I read this again, I am reminded of that morning.
But, for now, let’s begin at the beginning. Notice how it starts.
There is a lion roaring, but only the prophet can hear. I said that the opening editorial note in the book of Amos (1:1) already raises an issue for me. The issue is: Who speaks for God? It may not be the person we thought was authorized to do so. Which also brings to mind another question: ‘To Whom (if anyone) does God speak?’” The prophet is the one who sees what others do not. There is an interesting detail in the way Amos 1:1 tells us about this prophecy: Amos spoke what he saw. “The words of Amos… which he saw….” Amos conveyed the sense of what he saw. But, in Amos 1:2 it is more a matter of what he heard:
The very opening words of the book of the prophet Amos raise a question for us. The question is this: Who Speaks for God?
The scholars often remind us that the prophets were people who spoke for God. Thus, they were primarily forth-tellers, not primarily fore-tellers. It is a point that needs to be repeated often. The word prophet does not mean “someone who predicts things.” It really means “someone who speaks the Word of God.” The prophets enabled the people to hear what God was saying to them at their own particular place and time in history.
For some reason, in the popular mind, prophesy has become connected with prediction. When popular preachers speak of what they call “Bible Prophesy” they are most often referring to Bible Apocalyptic: like the highly symbolic material in the book of Daniel or the book of Revelation. But, this is not the heart of prophesy. The heart of prophesy is: “Thus says the LORD.”
There are times when God seems absent. It seems that direction and blessing are gone. We have no sense that our prayers are being heard. We may be in a time of stress and trial, where there seems to be no relief in sight. Service that formerly brought us joy becomes dry and unrewarding. And we ask: Why?
Christian readers need to continually remind themselves: the Old Testament believers had no developed doctrine of the afterlife. In much of Christianity the idea of the afterlife — of rewards and punishments in the world to come — dominates the thinking of believers. In Christianity, this has become such a commonplace idea we must consciously remind ourselves that it is missing (for the most part) from the thinking of the Old Testament writers.
It’s not just Christians who may be surprised — or even shocked — by the absence of this theme. There are some observers who have theorized that religion exists as a way of addressing the fear of death. If that were the case, it would be impossible to account for the Jewish religion in Old Testament times (or: the religion of the ancient Greeks at the time of Homer, either. Just read The Iliad sometime.).
Because the believers of Old Testament times had no developed doctrine of the afterlife, they tended to see the issues of right & wrong / rewards & punishments as playing themselves out in this life. For example, you can see this clearly in the book of Proverbs: do right and things will go well for you, do wrong and you will suffer.
Forgiveness — the pardon of sins — is a central issue in Christianity. Jesus has made it so — and has taught us to pray: “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”
Yet, it is also such a difficult issue. When there is a deep wound, the pain is still there, and the anger still arises. In times like this, we wonder: do the words mean anything? When time and time again, you have to pray “Lord, give me the grace to forgive my enemy” you have to wonder if there is ever hope for you. There have been many times, when I have wondered this about myself. And, I know I’m not alone in having this problem.
Those people who have done things that have caused wounds — especially those who have done it quite deliberately and knowingly — are hard to forgive. Many people have been treated unfairly and unjustly. People have been abused. And, the problem with forgiveness is that it seems to say that all that was okay. To let go of the anger and the outrage seems to give in to injustice — to give permission for the abusers to do it again.
Some people think that if they can just find God’s perfect will then their life would be easier — problems, setbacks, and disappointments would be eliminated. Really? I don’t know where such ideas come from — but a moment of thought will dispel them.
The great Bible characters did not have lives that were devoid of difficulties or setbacks or griefs or disappointments. If this did not happen with them, how can we reasonably expect it for ourselves? Jesus grieved over Jerusalem. The apostle Paul knew setbacks and discouragements in his ministry. How can I suppose my life can be free from such things?
The path of the Lord is not easy, it is worthwhile. Those who choose to live as Christ has taught make a positive contribution to life — to their own life and to the lives of others. We move along a difficult path characterized by faith and love and hope. And, by doing so, we bring more faith and hope and love into the world.
How would we want other people to think of you? Wouldn’t you want them to think the best? For some people it becomes an obsession: wondering what other people think of them. It is a source of anxiety and shame. Most of the time the truth of the matter is: they don’t spend much time thinking about us at all. And, how much does it matter anyway? Should it?
How do we want God to think of us? That can be a disturbing line of thought. Many people I know were raised in a hellfire and brimstone religion, where the angry judgement of God was a prominent theme. Human sinfulness & depravity was held up as the basic fact of human nature. We are sinners. And, God is holy. God is offended and angry over our sin. God must condemn us. It is only right.
This message, resonates with something deep inside us. We know we are not the people we should be. We are often ashamed of ourselves. And, we can’t help but reason: God must know of flaws and errors that we don’t. We are quick to condemn ourselves. Why wouldn’t God condemn us? In fact, it is hard for us to imagine that God would think more highly of us than we think of ourselves. Isn’t it?
That is why the message of God’s love is always so hard to believe. If we are sometimes tempted to worry about what other people think of us — how much more worrisome the thought of what God might think of us.
There are times when we may feel we’ve lost our way. The future seems uncertain and the direction we need to take unclear.
But, there are also times when we feel confident that we know the way — that we know the will of God — at least reasonably well. Psalm 25:4,5 suggests that we really don’t know the way unless we seek to know it. It further suggests that the process of seeking God’s will may take me some time and effort.
I have been discussing this Psalm as a Psalm for the “Waiting Times” of our lives (here and here and here). Verses 4 and 5 show us the positive value of these times of waiting: it’s a time to seek God’s will and direction.
I have commented here and here about the themes I see in Psalm 25, but I haven’t said a word so far about the structure of the Psalm. This hardly seems right. It is a bit like putting the cart before the horse. But, I wanted to give you an idea why I find this Psalm so interesting.
The structure is interesting too. This is one of those alphabetic psalms. The first verse begins with the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the next verse with the next letter, and so forth. (Other alphabetic psalms are 9, 10, 34, 37, 111, 112, 119 and 145.) The last verse of Psalm 25 is outside this structure.
