Fault Lines
Do not hide Your face from me on the day of my distress; Incline Your ear to me;
On the day when I call answer me quickly. Psalm 102:2 NASB
My distress – Why do earthquakes occur? The simple answer is that geological plates move under stress. The shift in the land is what we call an earthquake, but it really isn’t anything more than stress relief. You can think of the root verb here along the same lines. “ṣārar means ‘to bind up’ or ‘to tie.’ . . . It also may refer to the strong emotional response that one experiences when pressed externally by enemies or internally by wrong decisions or passions;”[1] In other words, we have personal fault lines and when they come under enough stress, something has to give. That condition is ṣar, “distress,” emotional confinement, personal anguish, trouble. And like the psalmist, those are times when we most likely expect God’s protection. When we don’t get it, we cry out. We experience our own personal earthquake.
Notice, however, that the psalmist doesn’t immediately ask for a remedy. The first thing he does is ask why God isn’t present. His expectation is that God protects, and now, when he discovers he isn’t protected, he declares that it isn’t supposed to be like this. This reminds us of David Lambert’s insight into the ancient tradition of divine drama. Many psalms (including this one, I believe) are like dramatic plays. Lambert writes: “the psalmist identifies himself as one ‘who relies on you,’ in order to remind the deity of what’s at stake: YHWH’s potential loss of an ally, his reliability as a patron, and the acknowledgement he stands to get if his dependent survives—all matters of quasi-political nature.”[2] Lambert’s point is that ancient ways of dealing with fealty involve psalms that remind God of the loss of reputation that will occur if He doesn’t act as divine provider and protector. The petitioner suggests that it is God’s reputation that matters here, not the petitioner’s request. Fulfilling the request will indicate to others that God’s honor is upheld. This reminds us of Moses’ argument in Exodus 32:11-14. It’s God’s reputation that’s at stake here. The petitioner’s plea is merely window-dressing.
But it doesn’t feel like window-dressing when we are the ones praying, “Don’t hide Your face from me.” It feels like betrayal. All this time we’ve held on to God’s promises to watch over His children. Now, when it really counts, He can’t be found. Are the promises a giant spiritual fraud? A way to get us to obey by offering the carrot rather than the stick? What do you feel like when life turns against you, when God doesn’t seem to care anymore? Isn’t He in charge?
I’ll tell you what it feels like. It feels like indifference. You see, the opposite of love isn’t hate. It’s indifference. “I don’t care” is far more painful than “I hate you.” Hate implies strong emotional connection. Just like love. The relationship remains, even if it’s a hostile one. But “I don’t care” wipes away the relationship. Not hot. Not cold. Nothing. It says, “You don’t matter to me. You’re nothing to me.” That’s what the psalmist fights. He can’t be nothing to God because God has promised. That promise might have been years ago, even centuries. But it’s God’s promise. It’s forever. So God can’t be indifferent to this. Even if He is angry, He still cares. The psalmist assumes that God will hear him, no matter what the situation.
Where are you? Feeling abandoned? Feeling like those ancient promises might have been forgotten? Feeling like God just walked away when you needed Him most? Here’s the psalmist’s answer. Not hearing is far better than not caring. God cares. Try again.
Topical Index: ṣar, distress, care, indifference, Psalm 102:2
[1] Harris, R. L., Archer, G. L., Jr., & Waltke, B. K. (Eds.). (1999). Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 778). Chicago: Moody Press.
[2] David Lambert, How Repentance Became Biblical, p. 37.
