Stand and Deliver

Yes, I am like a person who does not hear, and in whose mouth are no arguments.
For I wait for You, Lord; You will answer, Lord my God.  Psalm 38:14-15  NASB

No arguments – Maybe the psalmist read Job.  Maybe we should before we try to understand this poem.  The word he uses is tôkaḥot, “reproofs, arguments.”  We should note the following:

“(tôkaḥat). Argument, reproof, correction. Often used in parallel with mûsār (q.v.) ‘discipline, instruction, discipline.’”^[1]  The psalmist is not suggesting that he doesn’t have any objections or debate.  He’s saying that he isn’t offering any.  He recognizes what Job discovered—discipline.  There’s really not much point in complaining about our circumstances if we hold the belief that God cares and is sovereign.  Whatever is happening somehow, some way, fits into the divine purpose.  “Lord, make my heart so malleable that I can accept whatever You choose for me.”

That’s the first part.  Of course, there are times when objections make a difference.  Moses objected to God’s intention on more than one occasion.  It mattered (unless, of course, the exercise was really rhetorical).  The prophets sometimes objected.  Abraham pushed back too.  He just stopped short when he thought he’d pushed too far.  But for most of us, objecting to life’s treatment is an exercise in futility.  Thus, the rabbinic attestation.  Mercy rather than justice is our only real plea.

That’s the second part.  “I wait for You.”  When we finally confront the Holy One of Israel, the Creator God, the Sovereign Master of All, what can we really say?  We’re like Peter at the Transfiguration.  We blurt out some emotive gibberish and then realize we’re face to face with the author of life itself.  We fall on our faces and hope that mercy outweighs justice.  There are no arguments, no excuse, no defense.  It’s mercy or nothing, end of story.

The psalmist comes to the same conclusion.  Yes, life is difficult.  Yes, our humanity is on the line.  Yes, we feel separated, alone, perhaps confused.  We just don’t understand how all this works.  “There’s a difference between truth and fiction.  Fiction has to make sense.”  Because we live a world of truth, all we can do is wait—and hope that He will notice us.  Heschel’s insight is crucial.  Prayer isn’t really about voicing our demands no matter how carefully we try to make them sound like spiritual praise.  Prayer is really the effort to allow God to notice us, to become an object of His concern. There’s absolutely no point at all in pleading our case if He doesn’t notice us, and if He does notice us, then there’s really nothing more to say.  He already knows.

Once in a while, a very great while, God allows debate, argument over His intention.  Those very few cases do more than break the rules.  They show us that He cares enough to tolerate objections, but more than that, they tell us to be very careful.  If and when we feel the need for tôkaḥot, we’d better be prepared for any answer, not just for the one we want, and since it’s God from whom we want an answer, we’re asking for something that is way beyond our control.  The better plan is “Wait.”  Are you willing?

Topical Index:  arguments, tôkaḥot, wait, Psalm 38:14-15

^[1] Gilchrist, P. R. (1999). 865 יָכַח. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 377). Chicago: Moody Press.