30 Days in the PsalmsНамуна

Day #15: Psalm 77

We continue hearing the prayers and songs of Asaph in Psalm 77. This psalm is both poignantly beautiful and painfully honest—a raw lament born in the long sleepless watches of the night. The journey of faith in the midst of deep darkness is sketched out in four movements.

First, the psalmist describes his prayer life almost as if he were an outside observer, looking in on his painful, extended season of trouble (vv. 1–3). What he sees and hears is a robust and desperate refusal to be comforted with anything less than the responsive action of God on his behalf. This is loud, embodied praying—he cries out, he moans, he stretches out his hand. This is persevering prayer—he reaches out for God “without wearying,” without giving up. Then he whispers, “Selah.” No one is completely certain what this word means, other than that it indicates some kind of interlude. It’s almost as if, after the impassioned pleas, the poet now draws a breath and waits—at least for a moment—in silence.

In the second movement of the prayer (vv. 4–9), he turns to address God directly. It’s here that we hear the anguish that tears at his heart. Whatever the circumstances are that keep him awake, too troubled to sleep, they have caused him to question God’s favor, love, compassion, and grace. He wonders: Has God turned his back on me forever? Has his love ceased? Has he forgotten to be gracious? Has his anger blotted out his compassion? We’d like for these to be rhetorical questions (anticipating an “Of course not!”), but they seem to be genuine, honest wonderings. He cannot make his circumstances match up with God’s own revealed characteristics. And then, again, the whisper: “Selah.”

In the next section (vv. 10–15), we see the pivot point of the prayer. In the silence after the questions, God has spoken, and something has changed. The psalmist says, “It is my grief that the right hand of the most high has changed” (v. 10). God has made himself known, and although the circumstances remain the same, lament is now tempered by hope. The psalmist chooses to nourish and cultivate that hope for his present and his future by remembering God’s gracious and powerful deeds of the past. Then, a third time, the pause. “Selah.”

It’s interesting that the fourth movement does not end with “Selah” (vv. 16–20). It’s simply a crescendo of faith-building memories of the exodus, the definitive expression of God’s salvation in Israel’s experience. This fourth section builds up to the final declaration: “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” That memory of powerful liberation and gentle shepherding is what will now sustain the psalmist.

If you’re in a season of sleepless nights, these are good days to cry out to God in full-voiced lament—and then to wait in expectant silence. These are good days to exercise memory of God’s faithfulness in the past to build hope for your present and your future.