Psalms for Turbulent Times - Psam 27: The Lord is my light

Psalm 27[1]

1    The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? 

The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?

2    When the wicked, even my enemies and my foes,

came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.

3    Though a host encamp against me, my heart shall not be afraid, 

and though there rise up war against me, yet will I put my trust in him.

4    One thing have I asked of the Lord and that alone I seek: 

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,

5    To behold the fair beauty of the Lord and to seek his will in his temple.

6    For in the day of trouble he shall hide me in his shelter;  

in the secret place of his dwelling shall he hide me

and set me high upon a rock.

7    And now shall he lift up my head above my enemies round about me;

8    Therefore will I offer in his dwelling an oblation

with great gladness; I will sing and make music to the Lord.

9    Hear my voice, O Lord, when I call;

have mercy upon me and answer me.

10  My heart tells of your word, ‘Seek my face.’ Your face, Lord, will I seek.

11  Hide not your face from me, nor cast your servant away in displeasure.

12  You have been my helper;  leave me not, neither forsake me,

O God of my salvation.

13  Though my father and my mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up.

14  Teach me your way, O Lord; lead me on a level path,

because of those who lie in wait for me.

15  Deliver me not into the will of my adversaries,  

for false witnesses have risen up against me,

and those who breathe out violence.

16  I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord 

in the land of the living.

17  Wait for the Lord; be strong and he shall comfort your heart;  

wait patiently for the Lord.

  

Praying the psalms in these days, we discover that they ring true to our hearts’ cries. These ancient laments and praises were compiled by people of faith from another culture and another place seeking God. The genius of their non-specific complaints and concerns means we are able to pray them with integrity, in our culture and place as we seek God.

These are prayers, in particular, for those who find themselves in the wrong place. Place is a key feature of most psalms. The person with the lament will often cry out about finding themselves in a place where they are cut off or abandoned, surrounded by enemies, mocked or scorned, afflicted or humiliated. As a psalm progresses they may still be in that ‘pit’ or still feel ‘encircled’ by enemies, yet something shifts, something changes in their outlook as they pray; and they now see a new future – lifted out of the pit, safe in a refuge, standing in light, hidden in a shelter, high on a rock.

Over the last 24 hours, an estimated 18,978 people across the UK have found themselves either newly admitted or still in hospital being treated for the Covid-19 virus. Over the last 24 hours, 847 more people have been recorded as having died from coronavirus related symptoms in hospital.  A total of 14, 576 people have died in hospital in the UK since this pandemic began to claim lives. Many more have died in care homes or at home but have not yet been officially recorded as such. So many find themselves in places where they feel encircled with grief.

Here, in Psalm 27, the psalmist begins with proclamation not about circumstances but about God. Although there is much to concern the writer – he or she feels surrounded by those who mean them ill (vs2, 3, 11 and 12) – the first thought is to turn to a living relationship with God.  And God is addressed as one who is an illuminator, a stronghold, a life-giver. Eugene Peterson translates the opening verse with customary energy like this: Light, space, zest— that’s God! So, with him on my side I’m fearless, afraid of no one and nothing. And so, fearlessness pervades the whole psalm. Once again, the place and the situation of the psalmist is perilous. Yet there is confidence that the place is not fixed and the situation is not the last word.

‘One thing I ask,’ says the psalmist in verse 4, ‘and that alone I seek: 

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord and to seek his will in his temple.’ This one thing is a prayer to be in God’s place of safety. And it is also a prayer for an attentive spirit which enables the psalmist to ‘see God’ while still being in the place that is not safe.

The last word for the psalmist is a commitment to this spiritual sight, wise insight, which comes from patience (vs16 &17):  ‘I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and he shall comfort your heart; wait patiently for the Lord.’

Through the millennia, the faithful have found that an attitude of patient waiting (something an ill person has to be, as well as their family and friends) is part of the transformative process which opens our eyes to God. Somehow, it is in the very act of waiting and trusting that the fixed-ness of a bad place and the finality of a bad situation can be transformed into a place of safety, a place of fearlessness, a place of trust and love and faith. A place where God dwells. This waiting does not need to be done alone. It gathers strength from the prayerful waiting of the community of the faithful. Faithful people networked in prayer for someone do this too.

I was struck afresh today about the power which flows from communal quietness, stillness and waiting. In a reading from Exodus 14, the whole nation of the Hebrew slaves have arrived at the Red Sea. The hordes of Pharaoh’s armies are descending on them – the dust clouds can be seen. The Israelites are trapped between desert and sea. They start to complain to Moses. This is not a good place to be. ‘In great fear the Israelites cried out to the Lord. They said to Moses, “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us?”’ (14.10-11) Fear sweeps over them. Moses tackles the fear but cannot change the place. He says to the people in vs13: ‘Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today… the Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.’

I have in my mind’s eye this image: the dust clouds are getting closer, the mighty Egyptian descending upon them at speed in chariots, and that sense of being trapped is very real. Yet, with Moses’ leadership (which at best seems always questioned and at worse is not trusted) stillness descends on this vast crowd. A powerful stillness. A trusting stillness. An expectant stillness. And it is then that a new reality dawns. Fear of the situation is changed.

The transformative story of the faith of Judaism (and of the psalmist) is rooted in this moment. Where fear leads to stillness, stillness leads to faith, and faith takes the people of Israel stepping out of the ‘pit’ onto a path of dry land across a sea. This exodus story has become a founding story of the Christian tradition too. It is our story. Wait for the Lord. 

Perhaps you would like to sing this Taize chant, The Lord is my light, as you wait for the Lord today. 

The Lord is my light
My light and salvation.
In him I trust.
In him I trust.

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[1]Common Worship: Daily Prayer, material from which is included here,
is copyright © The Archbishops' Council 2005 and published by Church House Publishing