The Lawnmower
My heart has been struck like grass and has withered, Indeed, I forget to eat my bread. Psalm 102:4 NASB
Has been struck – We might use the idiom “Go pound sand!” but I’ve never heard anyone say, “Go beat grass!” That makes me wonder what the psalmist had in mind when he chose this verb, nākâ. Certainly it means, “smite, strike, hit, beat, slay, kill,”[1] but none of those English verbs seem to be connected with grass. I cut my lawn. I don’t strike it, hit it, beat it, or kill it. What in the world does this author mean?
Perhaps we can find some answers if we pay attention to the syntax (the word order). In Hebrew, the first word in this sentence isn’t “my heart.” It’s הוּכָּה (hukkah)—“has been struck.” Some outside fatal blow has struck my heart. It makes me feel like grass. Why? Because, as Yeshua pointed out centuries later, grass is so transitory. Today it’s green and flush. Tomorrow it’s piled high, withered, and burned. In fact, the syntax of this sentence really reads like this: “has been struck like grass and has withered away my heart.” Temporal fragility is the focus. Grass doesn’t last. Especially in a climate like Israel’s. A little rain. Green hillsides. Two days later. Dried up and brown. That’s how the psalmist feels. His problems are a lack of nourishing moisture and intense enemy heat. He’s withering. His heart feels every blow as if someone is stomping on him, beating him, trying to kill him.
And where, oh where, is God? The most important element of ancient religion is protection. I offer sacrifices to the gods in order that they will watch over me, first, to ameliorate their anger and second, to exterminate my enemies. In the pagan world, the gods are useless unless they protect. Quite naturally, the psalmist expects that same. God will guard. I’ve done my part. I’ve been obedient. I’ve offered sacrifices. I’ve prayed. Now, God, protect me!
But many times it doesn’t seem to work that way. If we were pagans, we might understand. After all, the gods are fickle. Sometimes they just like to torment men. Sometimes they just don’t care. But not YHVH. He is faithful to His promises. At least that’s what we believe, what we’re taught, what we hope. And then, one day, I get mowed over. My green grass turns brown. I’m scorched, dissipated into smoke. Like a pan in the desert, I evaporate. I am beaten down by the utterly temporal nature of my existence. We have the uncomfortable idiom, “Here today. Gone tomorrow.” Is that all there is, short of inventing “heaven”?
I don’t know how you will react to these words scribed more than three millennia ago, but they resonate with me. I am withering, burning up, drying out—finished. I feel the pounding on my heart. And I want to know, “Where is the God who protects me? Where?”
Topical Index: grass, nākâ, beat, smite, kill, promise, protection, Psalm 102:4
[1] Wilson, M. R. (1999). 1364 נָכָה. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 577). Chicago: Moody Press.
