Primal Cry

My soul weeps because of grief; strengthen me according to Your word.  Psalm 119:28  NASB

Weeps – The psalmist likes unusual words.  That’s stock and trade for poetry.  It makes the reader pay attention.  So, here he uses dālap, found in only two other places (Job 16:20 and Ecclesiastes 10:18).  The context tells us that once it means crying and once it means dripping (a leaking roof), so “weep” is probably good enough.  We all know what it’s like to feel as if your whole being is sobbing.  But now we need to ask why?  Why does the poet feel as if his entire person is crying?  He tells us.  “Because of grief.”  But that doesn’t quite explain it, does it?  Grief over what?  Sorrow, sadness, distress, pain, agony, heartache—these things don’t happen for no reason.  There must be a cause.  What is it that is so intense that the poet feels as if everything about him is tears running down his face?  To answer that question we need a little reflection.

The word translated “grief” is tûgâ.  It has some related terms that help us see how it differs. “The primary meaning is a mental troubling resulting from affliction. yāgâ stresses mental sorrow in affliction. kāʾab accentuates the ’ pain. ʿānâemphasizes humbling.”^[1]  So we know that some affliction is in the background here.  What might that be?

This is the fourth line in the daleth section.  The first line draws our attention to the fragility of life and to our inherent connection to dust.  It sends us back to Genesis 1 and 2.  The second line speaks about our need for open communication, for telling our whole story.  The third asks God to do whatever is necessary to acknowledge His oversight.  And as we shall see, the fifth line continues this personal examination theme by focusing our attention on our mistakes.  What is grievous about all this?  Can I suggest that the poet weeps because he discovers just how much he’s like his forefathers, how much his own life is linked to the first dust-man who rebelled against the Creator?  He’s dust even now centuries later, and that pull that he feels to have things his own way makes him grieve over is yetzer ha’ ra.  The struggle to bewhat God intended, that’s his affliction—our affliction.  It is a struggle that never leaves us, that’s embedded in the dust of our existence, and we weep not only because it’s difficult but also because it exists.  How we long for a life so committed to God’s ways that the fight is over, and how far we are from that goal.

Why do I come to this conclusion?  It’s because in every one of these daleth lines, the solution offered is a return to God’s voice.  “Your word,” “Your statutes,” “Your precepts,” “Your wonders,” “Your Law,” Your testimonies,” “Your commandments”—in each line the poet pleads for God’s instruction, admonition, counsel, and correction.  This section is personal confession, a deep look into the heart of the author.  And an exposé of our own circumstances.  Maybe weeping is what we need.

Topical Index: dālap, weep, tûgâ, grief, dust, affliction, Psalm 119:28

^[1] Alexander, R. H. (1999). 839 יָגָה. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament(electronic ed., p. 361). Moody Press.