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“Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has his promise failed for all time? Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?” Then I thought, “To this I will appeal: the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand. I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. … Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen. (Psalm 77:7-11, 19)

This psalm gives one of the hardest set of questions found in the land of lament.  It is a moment when the rug has utterly been pulled out from under the psalmist and where no trace of God can be found.

I think of Kevin.  Of Erin.  Of Kelly.  Of Michael.  Of Paul.  Of Rianti.  These young parents stolen away from their families cruelly by disease and circumstance.  And of course, there are others too.  Our church and wider community have known so much death and pain in these last few years. 

Psalm 77 gives voice to exactly the sort of questions we have asked and demanded answers to from God over these past years.  Perhaps they are questions we’re still asking for these or any number of other reasons.  We each have pain and heartache particular to our own lives.

The beauty of our faith, is that we stand with a community that includes the psalmists, and which not only permits us to shout out our raw, un-sanctimonious questions, fears, and emotions, but actually encourages and teaches to do it through psalms like this! 

We often think it’s better to not say the hard things we feel to God—that it’s better not to question his “plan.”  But that is a false reverence—our relationship with God demands honesty above all, even when it’s raw and painful.  The alternative is to lie.  Or to avoid God altogether.  And neither of those options are good for our soul or our faith.  It’s best to just get the truth out then.  And, God is big enough to handle the hard stuff. 

It's only through that sort of raw honesty before God that we are brought back and more deeply into relationship with God.  And it’s in that place that slowly we begin to remember who he is; how he cares for us; and how the silence that we see and feel from his end may not be the whole story.

The psalmist scours their memory—searching for any traces of God—for any memories to hold on to, experiences of worship, familiar songs or stories of the faith.  Slowly the pieces fall back together. 

God was the one that made a way through the sea for the Israelites… but no one actually saw God there either.  His footprints were not seen.  But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t with his people: saving them, making a way for them even still.  And maybe, the psalmist begins to reckon, just maybe that’s true in my life right now too.  Just maybe God is still present, with me, even here, even though I can’t see him either.

Dear friends, be honest with God.  Go to him often and always with whatever is on your heart.  It is from that place of honesty that we are best able to remember and believe—not just in the work of God in the past—but that this God might also be that same God still in our lives and sorrows today.