Song for the Speechless (Psalm 137)

Here’s my sermon Sunday from Psalm 137. It was a fun day, as we introduced new members and an intern and baptized three people! You can get the audio and video here. Also, be sure to subscribe to our podcast here.

I can’t express just how thankful I am for our preaching team. We’ve sent out a lot of great preachers over the years. But I think our depth chart is - right now - better than ever. I love it when people say, “the preaching has been awesome this summer,” and I’ve not even really been near this pulpit. I’ve so much appreciated the break this summer. But I’m really ready to get back into it.

Why the Psalms?

A few years back, I remember talking all the time about the beauty of the Psalms. About what a gift they were to God’s people. How they are God’s prayer book. How they’re the church’s song book. And how we should be in them every day, inhaling them like air, and exhaling them back as prayers, as songs to our God. And then it hit me. If I feel so passionately about this, then why don’t we ever preach from the Psalms? And so we started this rhythm of once a month stepping out of our current series - which now is Matthew - and walking through one of these songs together.

Why do we need this book so much? Well, as Aarik put it way back, in our intro sermon to this book, “the psalms connect the dots between every part of us.” In these pages, we see the full range of human emotion. We see the writers - David and others - taking their lowest lows and highest highs - to the Lord. Hear Aarik:

“The Psalms are good news for the anxious or depressed, for those living with the pain of fractured relationships or living through serious instability and insecurity. They are a refuge for infertile couples who watch friends get pregnant for the second, third or fourth time. They are consolation to the faithful employee who watches a corner-cutting co-worker get the promotion that should’ve been theirs. The Psalms don’t say we’re always right; they give us permission to feel every bit of our feelings under the sheltering wing of the God who loves us.” (Aarik Danielsen)

Why This Psalm?

Now we’ve been doing this for awhile, and I’ve never taken on one of these on myself. And I’m excited to do that today. So I decided I would start out with an easy one. But when we get to passages like this in the Bible, we can do one of two things. We can ignore them - maybe even rip them right out. Or we can admit the fact that we’re finite and frail. That we’re fallen and foolish - in so many ways. And we can receive them - from our God who is bigger and better than we could possibly imagine. After all, if we don’t have a God who’s big enough to shake our positions and question our opinions, then we don’t have much of a god at all.

Now though these words today may initially make you cringe, I’m convinced that, if you hear them clearly - through ears of faith - they’ll eventually move you to celebrate. We’ve felt a lot of big emotions over the past several years. Or at least I have. I’ve felt so much pain and sadness. And so, so much anger. The knee on the neck of George Floyd. The guy with the horns in the Capitol. All the atrocities over in Ukraine. COVID and all the deaths. It’s all just felt like too much to handle. I’ve felt some really big emotions. But what do we do with all of this pain? And all of this rage?

God and Our Big Feelings

Psalm 137 - and so many of these songs - show us that we can take it straight to our Lord. God can handle those big emotions. He’s not like earthly parents that lose their cool. We can be real. We can be raw. Yes, we can. And God really understands these feelings. He gets our desire for justice - that we’ll see here. In fact, we get it from Him. We’re made in His image. And He is also ready to forgive, when we go off the rails. He’s just and He’s kind. This is what He loves to do. Like a good dad. That’s just who He is. But I don’t want you to think that praying this Psalm is somehow bad.

Seeing ISIS slashing throats of followers of Christ. Reading the accounts of all of Larry Nassar’s victims. Alex Jones telling those Sandy Hook parents they made it all up. These things make us angry. They make us weep. They make us long for God to judge. To end all this pain. Or something’s in fact really, really wrong. We need Psalms like this. Psalm 137 gives language for the pain and the anger. For the deep emotions we feel. And so do all the other Psalms like this - what many have called the “imprecatory Psalms.”

Imprecatory? What’s that mean? Well, an imprecation is a curse. Where David and others here ask God to act. To judge their enemies. David Powlison defines this type of song like this: ”It is a plea that God will do what he has promised to do: destroy evil and remove everything that harms others and defames God’s name.”

Tish Harrison Warren says it like this: “These psalms express our outrage about injustice unleashed on others, and they call on God to do something about it.”

Now we bristle against the idea of praying like this. Or certainly having them accompanied by a tune. But soon in Matthew, Jesus is going to call down curses on the Pharisees. We see Paul in the New Testament cursing the gospel’s enemies, as well. And don’t we do this all the time? But just in our hearts? Or to their faces? This Psalm leaves us an example. Of what to do with all this pain and anger. The right thing to do. We’ll get to that in a bit.

Exiles in Babylon

Let’s think for a minute about the context of this Psalm. God’s people are looking back and they’re remembering their exile. Where they, as a people, are yanked out of their land and taken into Babylon, the land of their enemies. And they, as a community, had to fight back then to trust on. And here they are, later looking back, as a community again, trying not to forget - either their pain or their God. There’s so much we can learn from this Psalm today.

A Song For When We Don’t Feel Like Singing

Here we see a song for times when we don’t feel like singing. And within it are three verses of that song. In the first stanza, in verses 1-3, we hear a painful memory. God’s people who have returned from exile remember. They look back on dark days. When God’s people are “by the waters of Babylon.” They’re weeping, on the shores of the Euphrates River, and its tributaries. They’re remembering their homeland, the great city, Zion, Jerusalem - and all it represents. God, His people, their land, His promises. And they’re heartbroken.  Devastated. So much that they want to hang up their lyres. Put the guitars back on the rack, the trumpets back in their cases.

And to make things worse, their captives are taunting them. As Esau McCaulley puts it, they’re not just taking away their freedom. They’re trying to rob them of their emotions, too. “Sing us one of those songs about how God’s going to deliver you. LOL! Yeah, right!” God’s people are thinking back to those days, to that trauma. They remember.

In the second stanza, in verses 4 through 6, we see a feeble promise. They vow never to forget. They hear that command, to sing those songs, and they respond, “I… just… can’t.” Or do they? “How shall we sing the LORD’S song in a foreign land?” Now, at first those words have a ring of despair. But then we read on.

THEY WILL KEEP ON KEEPING ON. They will not let go. In verse 6, the Psalmist says, if I forget Jerusalem - and all it represents, make it so I can’t sing anymore. And he says, in Verse 5, make it so I can no longer strum those strings. He’s calling down curses on himself - if He should ever give up. But they won’t. No, God’s city - and God Himself - will remain their “highest joy.” No matter what. That’s this feeble promise. They will never forget.

In the third stanza, in verses 7-9, we see a hopeful demand. Here the prayer is,  “Oh God, remember!” Remember those Edomites - those longtime enemies of God - who stood alongside and cheered. Judge them, Lord. And then the Psalmist calls out to Babylon, the evil city that destroyed their homes, that dragged them to their land. They call out, in verse 9, in God’s hearing, and say, “Blessed be those armies who come along and do the same to you. That take your babies and smash their skulls against the stones.”

Here, God’s people, looking back on that day, are asking God to act. To bring justice. To remember their pain. And do something about it.

But what do we do about it - about this Psalm - that seems so confusing and so disturbing? In this fallen world, where we’re east of Eden, and can’t see the Promised Land ahead, it’s so easy to be overwhelmed with pain of our own. And we don’t feel like we can sing. So we often move away from the Psalms. And we forget that songs like these exist. Or maybe just don’t know what to do with them. But we rob ourselves of hope.

And this is also what we’ve done in the world of worship music. Old Testament scholar Michael Rhodes did a survey of the top-25 worship songs, just about a year ago, and he came up with this humorous title: “Why Don’t We Sing Justice Songs in Worship: Let’s Swap ‘Sloppy Wet Kiss’ for ‘Break the Arm of the Wicked Men.’”

Looking at those top 25 songs, he only found one passing mention of justice, although it’s one of the major themes of the Psalms. There’s no mention of the poor and the oppressed, though they’re spoken of constantly, as well. There are zero references to the enemies of God, despite the presence of so many songs in the book like we’re seeing today. And then he says, most troubling of all, there is not a single question posed to God in those tunes. This is despite the fact that, as Rhodes puts it, “Prick the Psalter and it bleeds with the cries of the oppressed, pleading for God to act.”

It’s no wonder why we struggle to process our hurts. We sing songs that make it seem like we’ve got it all together. That we have everything figured out. Rhodes says this is the result of our cushy, comfy white evangelical culture. We don’t know what to do with these words. But Dane Ortlund reminds us of this:

“The Bible does not summon you to a super-spiritual existence, asking you to wade stoically through life above the reach of pain and weeping. The Bible rather gives us categories and language by which to speak and pray our tears to God.” (Dane Ortlund)

Why It Matters

We need these songs - to process these big feelings. Think about those three headings again - of those verses. A painful memory. Don’t we all have those? In the last couple of years? Stretching back to childhood? Author Pete Scazzero says that we have all of these experiences that are under the surface that have shaped us, that result in these emotions we feel. We just see the tip of the iceberg. Are you willing to get below the surface and deal with your pain? Will you deal with your painful memories? Or will you just continue to harden up and never get to those wounds?

A feeble promise. Robert Cheong explains that struggles in our lives, the trials we go through, hover over us, like clouds that keep us from seeing the greatness and goodness of God. Are you willing to fight to hold on to trust in Him? Or will you turn away and just give up?

A hopeful demand. As I read this Psalm, my mind goes to Lieutenant Dan Taylor, in the film Forrest Gump, screaming in the rain at the sky. God doesn’t want us to stay there. But it’s sometimes where it can start. Are you willing to hand your pain, your rage, over to Him? Or are you going to just deal with it? And go battle your enemies yourself?

Now if you’ll commit to these actions - that we see here in these Psalms - that’s great. It’s what we need. But if you won’t, then what are you going to do? Today’s it’s becoming more and more hip to walk away. You deconstruct. You say you’ve moved on. Now you can talk about giving up on the Lord, but you’re really like the seven-year-old kid, who looks at her parents and says she’s going to run away. And God stands there, like the father saying, “Ok, honey. What’s your plan then?” But  you’re not just running from something. You’re running in some direction, as well. And where you’re headed is toward hopelessness.

Maybe you’ve heard of the singer/songwriter Noah Gundersen. He comes from a large Christian family in the Pacific Northwest. But at some point, he walked away from his faith. And he’s lived in rebellion against God ever since. In his most recent album, there’s this tune called “Exit Signs,” which has this really honest, tragic lyric:

Cause if you burn it down

You still get to dance around

The ashes like you’re not too old to party

But down in the afterglow

All this letting go

Is just another thing you’re holding on to

You can walk away. Give up on your God. But if you burn the house down, you still have to find somewhere to live. And there is no refuge - no shelter - like Him.

See Him here in this Psalm. These verses are God’s gift. They’re His invitation to bring our deepest hurts, our biggest grievances, our most painful injustices to Him. He welcomes us to come as we are. And to quote His promises to Him. Did you realize that’s what’s happening here? God’s promised to judge our enemies. And grant us relief. We’re just asking God to do what He’s said He’d do. And in that reminding our souls of those truths.

This Psalm - like the so many of the laments in this book - serves like a sort of trampoline, where we bounce down low, into our deepest and darkest pain, and spring back up in new confidence and hope, leaning on His promises to save.

How We Miss Out

But the church has a weird relationship with Psalms like 137. We usually don’t know what to do with them. A few years back, I was sharing with this pastor, Elliot Grudem, about some struggles - really a huge betrayal - I was working through. And I shared the story. I talked about my pain. And he responded, “Have you prayed any of the imprecatory Psalms?” And I looked at him and said, “Can I really do that?”

Author Tish Harrison Warren, in an article entitled, “Go Ahead. Pray for Putin’s Demise,” puts it this way:

”The imprecatory psalms name evil. They remind us that those who have great power are able to destroy the lives of the weak with seeming impunity. This is the world we live in. We cannot simply hold hands, sing ‘Kumbaya,’ and hope for the best. Our hearts call out for judgment against the wickedness that leaves fathers weeping alone over their silent sons. We need words to express our indignation at this evil.

Very often in the imprecatory psalms, we are asking that people’s evil actions would ricochet back on themselves. We are not praying that violence begets more violence or that evil starts a cycle of vengeance or retaliation. But we are praying that people would be destroyed by their own schemes and, as my professor prayed, that bombs would explode in bombers’ faces.” (Tish Harrison Warren)

Perplexed by Privilege

But now you might be starting to gathering up your stuff. This is hard for us to get our hearts and minds around. But here’s what I think our problem is: we may be perplexed because of our privilege. Now one thing playing on our family TV far too much is the 2006 film “High School Musical.” I’m not a fan. I hope that doesn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. But take a great musical like The Sound of Music or something like that. Douse it in a bunch of high fructose corn syrup. Bake it for half the directed time. And something like that “musical” is gonna come out. I don’t need to see Zach Efron dancing to cheesy pop music in the middle of a basketball court. It has to be some sort of crime against Broadway.

But I digress. There’s this character in this film called Sharpay. Do you know who I mean? Filthy rich. Always in pink. Crazy spoiled. Always whining. Now I don’t recommend this as a parenting tactic. But from time to time, in our home, I’ll look at the kids, and I may, in moments of incessant complaining, refer to him or her by that name.

“Seriously, Sharpay? Well, I’m sorry we don’t have your favorites on hand.” Occasionally, I get a chuckle. But usually it’s angry glares. “Oh, you’re too fabulous to pick up your trash? Really?”

Maybe it’s our lifestyle that’s made it hard for us to identify with these words. Think about it. It’s not that we don’t shed our tears or throw our fits of rage. We do. But more often than not, it’s over insignificant things, over temporary things. And praying that the guy who burned our meal be widowed or that the gal who cuts us off in traffic become childless - that does seem a bit too extreme.

Esau McCauley has written this terrific book entitled Reading While Black, and he calls Psalm 137 a gift to the black community. How it’s a guide in how to process rage resulting from injustice. He writes:

"These are the words of a people who know rage, a people who know what it is like to turn to those with power hoping for recompense only to be pushed further into the mud. These are the words of those who walk past homes and families living in luxury knowing that this wealth is bought with the price of their suffering. The oppressor’s children live at ease while children of the oppressed starve. The rich man's wife has the latest fashions while the oppressed man's wife remains in rags… we must listen to the injustices that give rise to the anger. It is an anger born of powerlessness; it is a cry to the only one who is left to right these wrongs, God. To whom could the battered and bruised of Israel turn if not God?

What kind of person of faith could ask that babies’ heads be dashed by rocks, and in what sense can we receive these texts as a meaningful sense Christian? In response, I ask, what kind of prayer do you expect Israel to pray after watching the murder of their children and the the destruction of their families? What kind of words of vengeance lingered in the hearts of Black slave women and men when they found themselves at the mercy of their enslavers’ passions?” (Esau McCauley)

Now these words in Psalm 137 may come off as odd or even offensive to us. But how do you think they’d play right now over in Ukraine?

Interestingly, a version of the Bible printed in 1807 was handed to slaves. Recently discovered and now referred to as the “Slave Bible,” it had passages removed that the “missionaries” thought would incite rebellion. What was a massive section ripped out? Yes. The book of Psalms. They didn’t want them reading Psalms like these and praying for God to act. And hoping He’d bring about better days.

We can try to rip these words out. But we shoot ourselves in the foot. If we look at our world with clear eyes and soft hearts, we’ll find ourselves praying these prayers. Over all our sufferings. And over the sufferings of others - maybe things we’ve not ourselves experienced.

What About Jesus?

But sirens might still be going off in your head. Kevin, are you serious? Haven’t we been walking through the Sermon on the Mount? What about love your enemies? And pray for those who persecute you? How does that square up?

You’re thinking: Kevin, aren’t we to love? Didn’t Jesus pray for His enemies, asking God to forgive? How could we ever sing these words? Well, speaking of Jesus, as we’ve talked about in Matthew, He’s the point of the whole Bible.

As Matthew 5:17 makes it clear, He fulfills it all. And He’s talking about the whole Old Testament. Every word of it points and finds its purpose in Him. We don’t tear these words out and throw them in the trash. We hold them up to His light, where we can see them more clearly.

In this beautiful auditorium, there are these stunning pockets of stained glass. Think of how we read the Old Testament this way. Like it shines through those multi-colored mosaics. And Jesus brings that color. He refracts their light. We learn that Jesus is the one who will come one day and judge. That shines on one side of the room. He’ll defeat God’s enemies and bring His people relief.

But He also does something else. That we can see on a different spot on the wall. He dies on the cross and takes the judgment of those who believe. Listen to words near the end of our Bibles, from Revelation 19:

Rev. 19:11 Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war.

Rev. 19:12 His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself.

Rev. 19:13 He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God.

Rev. 19:14 And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses.

Rev. 19:15 From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty.

Rev. 19:16 On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.

Judgment will come. He’ll come on that horse. But there’s also mercy now in Him. That’s why His robe is covered in blood. Yes, Jesus changes things. And teaches us to forgive. But we’re still, I’m convinced, meant to pray this prayer.

What About the Rocks?

But there’s still this elephant in the room - verse 9. “Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!” What? Seriously? Well, that’s what happened in those days. That’s how battles ended. You let those part of the past, the old people, live. It’s those who are the future, the little ones, that get snuffed out. This is what God’s people had to witness. It’s what conquering enemies did in that day.

The Psalmist’s point is this: Lord, end their reign of terror! It’s surely a metaphor for him, and certainly is also for us. Shut them down. Don’t let them continue to rape and kill and destroy. Let their bombs blow up in their faces. Bring justice upon our enemies, oh Lord.

We still pray those prayers today. Yes, on the spiritual enemies of God. But upon those, the most hardened ones, that Satan seems to be most working through. The woman who slept with your dad and ruined your childhood. Or Dylann Roof that shot up that Charleston church. Vladimir Putin and his armies blowing up children in their homes. Or that man that abused your sister and stole her smile. We ask God to work. To make things right. We give Him our pain and rage.

As many have said, this is just praying the closing plea of the Bible: “Come, Lord Jesus.” As so many have pointed out, this is just praying the Lord’s Prayer. John Tweeddale says this:

“The imprecatory psalms in particular vocalize Israel’s tears in the face of injustice and suffering.”To pray the imprecatory psalms is ultimately to pray as Jesus taught us to pray. As Christians, we long for God’s kingdom to come. We yearn for His will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. Praying the imprecatory psalms is not a call to arms but a call to faith. We lift our voices, not our swords, as we pray for God either to convert or curse the enemies of Christ and His kingdom.” (John Tweeddale)

On this side of the cross, and knowing we’re sinners ourselves, we also pray for their repentance - not just for justice, but for mercy. Think about it: God’s justice will come to all. Either they’ll suffer punishment in hell. Or Jesus has paid for them on the cross. We pray prayers like this - asking God to sort it all out - as He knows best.

We can pray for God to hold people accountable and pray that God might grant them repentance at the same time. Warren says this:

“I still pray, daily and earnestly, for Putin’s repentance. I pray that Russian soldiers would lay down their arms and defy their leaders. But this is the moment to take up imprecatory prayers as well. This is a moment when I’m trusting in God’s mercy but also in his righteous, loving, and protective rage.” (Tish Harrison Warren)

Our problem today isn’t that we’re praying too many of these prayers. It’s that we try to take matters into our own hands. It’s hip to lash out. These are prayers, not plans, for punishment. Taking this pain and giving it to God - is not just a way to call down fire from heaven. It’s a way to extinguish it in our hearts. Giving it to God is the pathway of forgiveness.   

He was dashed against the rocks - God’s one and only son - so we don’t have to be. And we who do believe know that we, too, deserve that kind of end. So it fills us with gratitude, that spills over in mercy and love. And yes, it makes us those who love our enemies - like our Lord - and pray for those who hurt us. We don’t have to go around cracking skulls ourselves.

You might have heard my wife’s story. At 12 years of age, her mom died - from a failed tonsillectomy. The doctor botched the surgery and she bled to death. Amy’s dad got them a settlement that she used - in almost a Prodigal Son kind of way - to drown away the sorrows that came as a result. But looking back as a Christian, she felt guilt about that and saw herself filled with compassion.

She found the doctor’s number. She left him a message. And then one day, out of the blue, he called. And Amy got to tell him she forgave him. She got to share the gospel of Jesus. She could have gotten even. And that’s the way everyone works today. But she got to display Christian love. As Esau McCauley puts it, “The sword gives birth to the sword, but the cross breaks the wheel.”

Exiles in America

We need these words in America today. Because we’re still living in Babylon. Have you thought about the fact that we’re also in exile? That’s how the writers of the New Testament put it. Right? We’re not in our home. We’re waiting for a new world to come. Things are tough and seem to get worse every minute. And until that day, when God’s rescue is complete, we need a community around us to help us not forget. That God is good, in control, and with us. No matter how hard things seem.

Why We Need Psalm 137

And we need these Psalms. Our first sermon in this series was back in January of 2020. And we had no idea just how much we’d need them. Aarik’s second point was this: “the Psalms get the songs of Jesus stuck in our head.” Jesus is the One who can truly pray these prayers and sing these songs. And He does it on our behalf. He’s the true, better David. He’s felt deeper hurt than we can ever imagine. And through all of that, He’ll give us this deep relief we so much want.

Karis, throw your longings for justice to Him - no matter how messy - trusting the Lord, in Jesus, to make all things right. Let’s pray.