Out of the Deep Waters

In your great mercy, O God, answer me with your unfailing help.
Save me from the deep muck; don't let me sink!
Let me be rescued from those who hate me and out of the deep waters...

Ok... so who's saying these words? (besides the obvious: the one who first sang/wrote Psalm 69)
~Could it be some destitute Lakers fans, grieving their horrifying defeat by those dastardly Celts?
~Could it be me, after the kind of day I've had today, when the to-do tasks keep piling up as I spin my wheels and feel sorry for myself, then feel guilty for wallowing in self-pity, which only deepens the muck I'm stuck in?
~Or would it be one of the too-many Iowans who've lost everything in the swirling flood waters covering their beloved towns?
~How about the child who's fury is building up inside after a school-year full of bullying?
~Or a young woman of Darfur who must venture out to find fresh water knowing she may well be raped along the way?

So many reasons to cry out, to reach up out of the whirlpool waters sucking us under, hoping for a strong hand to hold onto... So many awful things are going on in the world that I hardly feel I have a right to lament, since I do live in a safe place and I don't need to wonder where my next meal's coming from.

But lament I do, many times a day, pouring out my own personal complaints and (by the grace of God) my complaints on behalf of people I know have it so much worse than I do.

The psalms in the Bible are full of such lamenters, desperate people spilling their guts, getting it all out, before God and other God-lovers. I don't find a lot of answers when I read the psalms, but I do meet other questioners there. They keep me company. They teach me it's ok to get it out, to be angry and ugly, to feel those unlovely feelings instead of chastising myself for feeling them. Feeling them allows me to begin to see beyond them. And usually what I see is a patient God waiting for me.

My patient, listening, absorbing God is waiting for me to empty out my yucks, so that there's some new room for the good stuff. The good stuff is hard to describe. It's a God-presence that's still and quiet and humble and centered. It's a power and a peace and a readiness to take on the world again.

Draw near to me and redeem me... asks the singer of psalm 69. Come closer, God. Take me back. Steal my heart away from the self-pity swamp. Give me a peek into what's beyond...

~Kari Henkelmann Keyl