Email from Church of the Redeemer

Morning Devotion for the Season after Pentecost

September 23, 2022

Invitatory

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.

Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness: Come let us adore him.

Reading: Psalm 88 (A Prayer of Despondency)

O Lord, God of my salvation,

at night, when I cry out before you,

let my prayer come before you;

incline your ear to my cry.

For my soul is full of troubles,

and my life draws near to Sheol.

I am counted among those who go down to the Pit;

I am like those who have no help,

like those forsaken among the dead,

like the slain that lie in the grave,

like those whom you remember no more,

for they are cut off from your hand.

You have put me in the depths of the Pit,

in the regions dark and deep.

Your wrath lies heavy upon me,

and you overwhelm me with all your waves.

You have caused my companions to shun me;

you have made me a thing of horror to them.

I am shut in so that I cannot escape;

my eye grows dim through sorrow.

Every day I call on you, O Lord;

I spread out my hands to you.

Do you work wonders for the dead?

Do the shades rise up to praise you?

Is your steadfast love declared in the grave

or your faithfulness in Abaddon?

Are your wonders known in the darkness

or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness?

But I, O Lord, cry out to you;

in the morning my prayer comes before you.

O Lord, why do you cast me off?

Why do you hide your face from me?

Wretched and close to death from my youth up,

I suffer your terrors; I am desperate.

Your wrath has swept over me;

your dread assaults destroy me.

They surround me like a flood all day long;

from all sides they close in on me.

You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me;

my companions are in darkness.

Meditation – Peter Vanderveen

“So what.” If you want just two words that signify despondency, these certainly qualify. They are meant to evacuate meaning wherever they’re put in use.

Years ago (when I was in graduate school and Goth fashions were suddenly in vogue), I noticed a young woman sitting several tables away in a local coffee shop. What seemed to be most notable about her were her jeans. With a fine point marker she had written the words “So what” in small letters across every available square inch of denim, from belt-line to hem, front to back. It had been done meticulously, hundreds and hundreds of times. I was young enough to be a bit brash, so I walked over and said that I had been impressed by all the work she had put into making a statement. And I followed this with a question about which I had genuine curiosity. I asked her, if it truly was the case “So what,” then where did she get the reason and the energy to spend so much time documenting this? Wouldn’t just saying it once be enough? Or more than enough?

I remember getting a look but not an answer.

At the time, I thought that her inscripted expression was more a style to be worn than an actual cry of despondency. It’s more attractive to act despondent than it is to be despondent. But in the years since, I’ve come to think of the repetition that was on display in a different way. For it may be – and I want to say this as carefully as I can – that it’s very difficult to finally touch bottom, at least if one has any sense whatsoever of God. “So what” – no matter how many times it is written – may not become entirely conclusive. Some very slim, remaining spark of light may endure, enough to cause the same words to be repeated again, once more – and then again, and again.

This same repetition is evident in the psalm appointed for today, when the writer tries to state the full extent of his troubles. He is repeatedly “like those;” he is like those who have suffered the worst, from whom all has been taken. It’s as if he cannot say this enough. But, still, this does not leave the psalmist with nothing. For there is yet room for appeal, for a voice that cries out once more in wait of response, and for the possibility, at long last, of a restorative reply. For God remains, deeper than all depths. God remains as that light – however dim it might seem – that cannot be finally extinguished. Which gives lament meaning, as – ultimately – the evocation of hope.

The Lord's Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy Name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those

who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

and the power, and the glory

for ever and ever. Amen.