“But You…” (Psalm 102)
You may have heard this story before. Florence Chadwick was an American swimmer who made her greatest contribution to the sport in the 1950s. In 1950, she became the first woman to swim the English Channel from France to England in both directions. In 1952, she wished to swim the 41-kilometer route between Catalina Island and the California coast. Boats made the trip with her, in case she needed to be fished out of the water because of sharks, or if she got too tired. After 15 hours of swimming, a very thick fog rolled in. Florence began to doubt her ability to go much further; she told her mother, who was in one of the boats, that she didn't think she could make it. Her mother told her she was almost there; but Florence, exhausted and blinded by the fog, couldn't believe it. She asked to be lifted into the boat. It wasn't until she was in the boat that she learned that the coast was barely two kilometers away. Indeed, she was almost there, but with no end in sight, she couldn't hold on.
I often think of this story when studying the Bible. It can be really stimulating to discover theology—there are so many incredible concepts in the Bible that spark the imagination. And that can be enough to fuel your Christian life for a while. But you will always come to a point where you have to ask what difference all this fascinating theology makes for your life. When you’ve come up against a problem that needs solving, how will the doctrine of the Trinity, or the doctrine of unconditional election, or the doctrine of justification by faith alone, help you deal with the problem you’re facing?
The Bible is filled with lessons for dealing with real-world problems; but the lesson we learn in Psalm 102 is the one that has helped me the most, the one that has been the lesson I have come back to the most often in my Christian life.
What we need to think about today is how the great biblical truths about God can be a comfort for us in suffering. So we’ll look at the psalmist’s reaction to his suffering first, and then we’ll examine the truths he clings to that enable him to respond in that way.
1) The reaction to suffering: "But you..."
The beginning of this psalm describes the mentality of someone going through very difficult suffering.
It describes emotional suffering. His heart is stricken, and he is depressed—v. 4: My heart is struck down like grass and has withered; I forget to eat my bread. V. 8: He suffers insults from his enemies—v. 9: For I eat ashes like bread and mingle tears with my drink.
He also describes physical suffering. He loses weight—v. 5-6: Because of my loud groaning my bones cling to my flesh. 6 I am like a desert owl of the wilderness, like an owl of the waste places. He can't sleep—v. 7: I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.
Like every sufferer, he's well aware of his own mortality and the fact that there's nothing he can do about it.
V. 3: For my days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace.
V. 11: My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass.
And the only explanation he gives is that God must be angry with him for a sin he has committed. V. 10: [I suffer all this] because of your indignation and anger; for you have taken me up and thrown me down. Interestingly, the psalmist gives no particular sin that might have inflamed God's wrath. Perhaps the psalmist is speaking less about the reality of his situation than about the feeling he has—and shares with almost anyone who believes in God and suffers without knowing why. The psalmist doesn't blame God—he never says that God is unjust in allowing this pain—but he simply acknowledges God's sovereignty over his suffering.
It is extreme suffering that is described: it causes mental depression, prevents sleep, causes weight loss, incites insults, makes one realize the limit of one's own days. The frankness of this psalm is astounding—sometimes we imagine that the Bible gives us an overly idealistic version of the world; we imagine that the Christian worldview is profoundly out of step with the reality of the world we live in. But this psalm should make us realize that the Bible doesn't ignore the reality of suffering at all—it tells us that the pain we may go through is real and vivid, and not to be ignored.
Most people react to suffering in the same way as the psalmist…and their reaction to suffering stops there. They suffer, they take medication, and they wait for it to pass, so that they can stop feeling the pain and get on with their lives. But the psalmist doesn't stop there. Just as we imagine him on his knees, head to the ground as he proclaims his lament, in verse 13 he looks up.
V. 11-12: My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you are remembered throughout all generations.
If you suffer, you must be honest with God about your suffering...but you mustn't drop anchor there. The psalms in general and this psalm in particular teach us to be honest with God about our feelings and our pain...and then to look up and say, "BUT". The Bible doesn't tell us that we won't suffer; but it does say that there is always a "But". The worst mistake we can make in suffering is to forget to say: "But...".
But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you are remembered throughout all generations.
In almost every psalm of lament or intercession, it happens the same way. The psalmist is honest with God about his worries...then he says, "But." And then he gives a reason why he can be encouraged, a grace that God gives him that enables him to combat his negative reaction to suffering. The Bible never tells us that negative reactions aren't appropriate, but it does tell us not to drop anchor there.
In Psalm 102, the psalmist gives us two "Buts", two truths that reassure and comfort him in his predicament.
2) Future Grace: God will establish his holy city
The word "Zion" appears over 150 times in the Bible, and essentially it means "fortification"-a strong place, a stable and secure dwelling. "Zion is the city of God, the city where God dwells. In the Old Testament, Zion was synonymous with Jerusalem, where God's temple was located. God's city was Jerusalem (Isaiah 40:9). In the New Testament, "Zion" took on an even deeper meaning-the eternal dwelling place of God, the city that God would establish as His dwelling place and that of His children (1 Peter 2:6, Hebrews 12:22, Revelation 14:1). "Zion" is therefore another name for what we call paradise, the holy city, the New Jerusalem where God will forever establish his kingdom on earth.
The psalmist's first comfort is found in the promise that God will establish his holy city, and that all God's children will be able to settle and establish themselves there, and dwell there forever.
V. 13-14 : You will arise and have pity on Zion; it is the time to favor her; the appointed time has come. For your servants hold her stones dear and have pity on her dust.
V. 28 : The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you.
For the psalmist, there was a real link between the city God was going to build for his people and his own well-being at the time. And this attitude runs counter to everything we know today. In our world, everything has to be immediate: we can recall as many promises as we like, but it doesn't change a thing-"That's all very well, but I'm still suffering!"
Indeed, attaching oneself to God requires a radical adjustment of our worldview and priorities. The child of God has his priorities not in what happens to him now, but in what will happen one day. Last week we saw that Jesus' vision was so fixed on the future that he was able to undergo the worst suffering imaginable. Hebrews 12:2: for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.. The amazing thing is that it wasn't weightless hope that kept him going, but the promise of even greater joy. The suffering of the cross was enormous; the joy to come was far greater still-so he was able to endure.
In the same way, if we have our eyes fixed on the grace to come, we too can endure. If Florence Chadwick could have seen the approaching coast, she might well have finished her journey. Likewise, if we keep our eyes on the grace that will one day come, we'll be able to finish ours-no matter how much suffering we go through. It doesn't lessen the pain, but it allows us to live our pain the right way, for God's glory—trusting in his wisdom and sovereignty.
The promise the psalmist gives us is that God will establish his holy city, where he will dwell forever, and where his children—that is, us—will be able to strengthen themselves and live in joy for all eternity. It's a promise that gives us real comfort in our suffering—if at least we have our eyes fixed on the glorious future that awaits us, and not on our present situation.
3) Present Grace: the knowledge of God's glory
If the psalmist gives us this grace to which we can turn in suffering, he gives us yet another: the reality of God's glory, which the nations of the world will see and praise. (This word "glory" means seeing and rejoicing in the beauty and greatness and majesty of God. When we see and rejoice in God's excellencies, He is glorified).
We can see why the promise of joy to come might comfort the psalmist. But when the psalmist refers to the other great truth that relieves him in his pain, it doesn't seem to be related to himself at all. Rather than saying all that God will do for him, he speaks of God himself.
11 My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass. 12 But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you are remembered throughout all generations.
15 Nations will fear the name of the LORD, and all the kings of the earth will fear your glory. 16 For the LORD builds up Zion; he appears in his glory…
21 …that they may declare in Zion the name of the LORD, and in Jerusalem his praise, 22 when peoples gather together, and kingdoms, to worship the LORD.
Rather than saying all that God will do for him, he speaks of God himself, as if God himself were the benefit that gave relief to the psalmist's suffering. But how is this possible? Why should the knowledge of God's power and eternity and glory be a comfort to the psalmist, what he looks up to when he's suffering?
To answer this question, we need to pause and reflect. If the psalmist finds comfort in the knowledge of God's glory, there must be a reason.
In fact, that reason can be found on every page of the Bible, from beginning to end. The Scriptures proclaim without reservation that the reason God does what He does is so that His creation can know Him, love Him and see His glory. First of all, everything God did in the Old Testament was aimed at this goal. All his law and his intervention on behalf of the people of Israel were designed to help them see God.
Isaiah 40:9:
Go on up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good news; lift it up, fear not; say to the cities of Judah,“Behold your God!”
That's the point of what he was doing in the New Testament too. God sent Jesus Christ to take our place—to live a perfect life in our place, to pay the price for our sins in our place-so that we might be reconciled to God. He did this because he loved us—but even that love is not an end in itself. While God would be just in punishing us, the love he shows us demonstrates his great mercy and compassion—when we accept the love God has shown us in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we give him glory. God's love and Jesus Christ's sacrifice for us glorify God. So the main reason Christ died was not primarily to save and forgive us, but that through this act of divine salvation and forgiveness, we might see and know and give glory to God.
1 Peter 3.18:
For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God…
2 Corinthians 4.6:
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
This is the main reason why God does everything he does from the beginning of creation—and it's his plan for us too. God does everything so that the men and women he has created will see, love, rejoice and take pleasure in that glory. When we know God's glory, we fulfill our reason for being-as Isaiah 4:6-7 says:
…bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the end of the earth, 7 everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.”
Now we're ready to return to our question. Why would the knowledge of God's power and eternity and glory be for the psalmist a relief, what he looks up to when he's in pain?
Because he has found his greatest good not in things he can lose—his health or his family or his work or his hobbies or his relationships—but in God himself. Everything he possesses could be taken from him, but God never changes-his existence is constant, his power inexhaustible, his glory always visible.
11 My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass. 12 But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you are remembered throughout all generations.
Verses 27-28: [Earth and heaven] will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end.
And since he knows that God is the only being who doesn't change, he knows that God is the only reliable source of comfort. So even if it's hard, even if his suffering has reached a level that seems unbearable, he looks up to God, for he is sovereign; he is eternal; he is trustworthy.
Application
Now the main question here is, how do we learn to do this—to respond to suffering like the psalmist does? It can seem impossible: how does someone who is going through suffering so intense that they’re not sleeping, they’re not eating, they feel like their body is wasting away… How does this person respond sincerely, like the psalmist did, and find comfort in what they’re saying?
I’m going to suggest two very practical things, and then I’ll explain why they’re so important.
First of all—and it sounds ridiculously simple—if we want to learn to respond to pain like the psalmist does, read the Bible, and go to church. The church—the body of Christ—is the main means God has given us, through his Spirit, to let the Word of God take root in our hearts and change us.
When we come to church, what do we do? We sing songs that proclaim these truths about who God is. We listen to the Word of God that proclaims who God is. We comfort one another with these truths about who God is. We need to see these truths lived out and celebrated, and we need other people who can help us stand when we no longer have the strength to do it on our own.
Secondly: if we want to learn to respond to suffering like the psalmist does, we must develop the habit of praying like this when we’re not suffering.
If we look at the second half of this psalm—basically, at everything starting at v. 12—with very few exceptions, we can pray all of these things in any and every circumstance. These things are always true.
We have two couples in the church who are getting married in less than two weeks. Their wedding day will be, for them, a wonderful, joyful day—the beginning of their life together.
And on that day, they can stop for a moment, look out at the celebration happening around them, and then can say in all honesty: “But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you are remembered throughout all generations… Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you.”
If we develop the habit of thinking like that all the time—in good moments and in completely boring, ordinary moments—we will be ready to think that way when the storms arrive.
It’s not a quick fix; it’s a long-term plan for peace.
We so often look for easy solutions to our problems—or we look for ways to pretend our problems don't exist. Real solutions—the ones that get to the root of the problem and uproot it—are rarely quick or easy. The Bible offers real solutions to our pain—not quick fixes or ways to live in denial. They're sometimes slow, often difficult—but they're real and definitive. Anchoring our relief in God's great plan for humanity and in God's glory is the only way to find real, lasting comfort here and now.
This is exactly what the psalmist does. Even if he has to suffer now, he knows that God will accomplish His purposes for His people, and he finds happiness in that knowledge. After honestly telling God of his immediate suffering, he looks up to God's plan for mankind—the establishment of his holy city, where all his children can grow strong—and to the greatest good there is-the glory of God himself. His suffering isn't necessarily over, but at least he can see the end of the tunnel...and so he can hold on.
A month after her failure in the English Channel, Florence Chadwick tried the route again. The fog rolled in as before, and she tired as before... But this second time, she made it to the end, because she knew that even if she couldn't see the coast clearly, it was there, and it wasn't as far as it seemed.
Likewise, if we keep our eyes firmly fixed on God's plan for his people, and on God himself, we'll be able to hold on until the end—because even if everything we have is taken away from us, our God and his will cannot be taken away from us. We can find comfort in this today, as we say with the psalmist:
...you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you (v. 27-28).
