Learn to Cry and Then Wait for God (Psalm 130) 

Our next song deals with one of the more difficult practices of the disciple's life, waiting for God. Because of who God is — and who we are — there are bound to be various stresses in our relationship with Him. He will confuse us at times. We will be frustrated with Him at times. If God is infinite, flawless and perfect and I am finite, sinful and imperfect, then it stands to reason that I will become frustrated in my relationship with him at times.

But this practice is crucial because wait for Him we must. His processes are slow and often mysterious. We must learn how to cry out to Him from the places of difficulty in life, but then to wait once we’ve cried. Our psalmist has learned how to do both. The crying out to God is the more natural part, for we have been created in His image and have a hole in our hearts only He can fill. But the waiting — once we’ve cried to Him — is often unnatural, a forgotten part of God’s process in our lives. 

In this brief song, we will see how the pilgrim cries to God from the depths and becomes awed by His grace, which stimulates a continual waiting on God. Then there is a testimony about how much that waiting works.

The Pilgrim Cries to God - From the Depths 

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!” (Psalm 130:1-2)

The song begins in a place familiar to all of humanity, the depths. Job tells us “man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward” (Job 5:7). No man or woman is unfamiliar with pain. We’re all well acquainted and this song flows from that trouble and pain. The description our song gives to this trouble is simple, "the depths." This word is a condensed form of “the depths of the sea” or the “depths of the waters.” 

The idea of the depths is one of drowning and flooding, of being overtaken by waters that are too strong and powerful and all-consuming for the singer. In other words, his trouble has come to overwhelm him and he stands helpless in the face of these trials and tribulations. Certainly, we all know the kind. In the face of “the depths” you often want to simply let go because the fight has left your body. It feels better to surrender and let the waters carry you where they wish. Instead, our psalmist cries out to God from these depths. 

So our song is birthed in tragedy. Later, the song will conclude with an exhortation to the congregation so it is not an entirely private song. It isn’t a song only sung on the private journals of the psalmist. It is public, known. This tells us that tragedy was not an overly embarrassing element for our singer, for suffering and pain are part of life. Rather than treat his pain as a problem for the theologians and philosophers, the pilgrim treats it like a springboard for prayer. We, of all people, understand suffering is part of life. 

Christ, our Lord and champion, suffered for us in the flesh, and we follow His example, taking up our crosses and dying daily. We aren’t masochists, choosing the pain for the sake of pain, but we do often emulate our Lord and run into the fire for the sake of obedience and other well-being. Additionally, we know our God hates human suffering and has provided a way to permanently end it (without making humankind into unthinking automatons). 

The cross of Jesus Christ — and the salvation it brings for all who receive Him — provides us with a secure future without pain or suffering of any kind. Heaven is our future home. An unbroken and flawless world awaits us. 

Finally, we have found that it is in the suffering that we have often seen our Lord most completely. The lessons we’ve learned, the victories we’ve been given, the transformation we’ve experienced through the trials of life have proved invaluable. We have watched our redeeming God redeem our sufferings time and time again. Our singer knows all this and is not ashamed.

However, though this song is birthed in tragedy, it seems this particular tragedy might have been one of the self-induced variety. In a moment, our singer is going to wax on his iniquities and the forgiveness of God. He will conclude the song rejoicing about God’s redemption from iniquities. So there’s a strong indication his particular depths weren’t your run of the mill pains of life, but pains caused by his sin, his own decision making, his rebellion. You know the kind. We all do. We’ve all spoken words, committed acts, made decisions (or indecisions) which have made our lives unnecessarily hard. Sometimes the difficulty we create for ourselves is so harsh we might call it “the depths.”

So it seems our psalmist had gotten himself into a bit of trouble. Some “iniquity,” some sin, had beset him and he had made a bit of mess of things. From that place, he cries out to the living God. He is a man confident of grace. Rather than take the “I made my bed and now I must sleep in it" perspective, he believes in God’s merciful and forgiving heart. Law tells us we are done, but grace tells us “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1).

The truth of the matter is that it is often hard for us to run to God. When pain comes into our lives, which is not of our own doing, we are tempted to wonder if God has failed us. A sickness, some abuse, a measure of misfortune, and we wonder if God has forgotten our lives. The enemy tempts us to grow angry with God, to resist Him, to say, “Well, He didn’t work for me.” But when pain comes into our lives of our own doing, we are tempted to wonder if God will receive us. A divorce, an addiction, a failure, and we wonder if God is frustrated to the point of exasperation with us. Yet, in either situation, we must cry out to God.

I give you a biblical character for each situation, Jeremiah and Jonah. Both were prophets, one hyper-obedient to God, the other not so much. Jeremiah’s obedience to God was demonstrated in his willingness to say things that would get him into trouble with the authorities. They continually rejected Jeremiah’s words. After years of rejection and hatred, they finally threw Jeremiah into a pit. There, in the mire, Jeremiah cried to God; “I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit” (Lamentations 3:55). Rather than grow angry at God, giving up on Him, Jeremiah considered it an honor to suffer for God’s name. He cried out to His Lord and was ultimately delivered. When you are in the depths not of your own doing — perhaps even depths directly related to your obedience to God — remember Jeremiah.

But when you are in the depths created by your disobedience, remember Jonah. His depths were actually God’s mercy, for his depths could have been the Mediterranean Sea, but were instead the belly of the great fish. That fish was God’s mercy, for God had a second chance in store for Jonah. And from that fish’s belly, Jonah cried to God; “I called out to the Lord, out of my distress…out of the belly of Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice.” (Jonah 2:2)

The disciple's life will not last you long if you cannot learn to cry to God from both kinds of depths, especially the self-inflicted kind. We are bound to run ourselves into sin and trouble during this life, and if we think God wants nothing to do with us every time we fail we won’t last long. If God was willing to send His Son to rescue us from our massive sin problem initially, don’t we think He wants to continue to rescue us from our minor sin problems continually? Our pilgrim has learned this — he cries to God from his depths, even self-induced ones.

The Pilgrim Is in Awe of God - Because of His Forgiveness

“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.”  (Psalm 130:3-4)

Our pilgrim has gone into the depths and, from there, has cried to his God. His deep longing is familiar to us, for he desires God would hear his voice. He craves the responsiveness of God; this is his prayer. But, in the midst of this, he seems to come to a theological roadblock. He says it here: “If you should mark iniquities who could stand?” He seems to realize, in light of his own sin, God’s perfection. God’s holiness could never abide man’s unholiness, our pilgrim begins to realize. If God kept a record of sin there isn’t one person on earth who could stand in his presence. What does this do to our singer? He is crying out from the depths and he is aware of his sin. Yet he desires God would hear him. But can he have any hope of God’s listening ear? No one can stand before God. But our pilgrim goes on to realize more of God’s beautiful nature. Not only is He holy, but He longs and loves to forgive. 

Even in this Old Testament era, the concept of God’s justification was foreshadowed. In our New Testament era, on this side of the cross, we see it and feel it more fully. We “are justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by His blood, to be received by faith” (Romans 3:24-25). God does forgive, through Christ and His cross. Our singer isn’t declaring forced forgiveness from God toward unwanting men, but the possibility of forgiveness for those who crave it. The craving is satiated through Christ’s blood.

This forgiveness, our singer cries, leads to the fear of God. This fear, as we’ve seen in the 128th psalm, is not terror, but awe and this psalm help us come to that conclusion. If God was looking for a servile paranoia, His forgiveness would not lead to more of that paranoia. No, God is not looking for the terror of Him, but appropriate worship of Him. The psalmist has been forgiven and, resultantly, is in awe of his Lord.

The forgiveness of Christ is to produce this fear in the heart of the disciple. The pilgrim life ought to be full of wonder, worship, and amazement at God; this awe stems from His forgiveness. “The grace of God has appeared,” which produces “a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works” (Titus 2:11-14). The deeper we go into forgiveness, the deeper we will go into worship. Deeper forgiveness isn’t found through more sin, but a deeper understanding of sin. The more we see how far sin had run its course — the darkness of it ran deep — the more we will cry out to God in wonder at His ability to forgive and redeem it. 

One day, Christ came to the house of Simon the Pharisee. Simon hosted Christ, but barely. He gave Jesus no customary greeting: no kiss, no anointing oil, no foot washing. Clearly, he saw himself as Jesus’ judge and jury. 

As they dined, a sinful woman entered the room, weeping. She broke an alabaster flask and anointed Jesus. She kissed his feet and wiped his feet with her hair and tears. She did, beautifully, all Simon would not do. Simon silently thought Jesus idiotic for allowing this woman to treat him that way. Surely, he thought, if He knew who this woman was He wouldn’t allow this.

Then Jesus broke through the silence and rebuked Simon. “You did not greet Me. You did not kiss Me. You did not wash my feet. But she has.” She had done all Simon would not. “Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven — for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” That was Simon, the one who loved little. The woman, of course, loved much. She came into that room to thank Christ for some previous moment of forgiveness. It must have been a private episode, for it isn’t recorded in Scripture, but her thanks was a public episode.

But why did she behave as she did? She had been forgiven much. None of us will last long on the disciple's path as long as we see little of what Christ has done for us. If we think we’ve been forgiven little, we’ll inevitably love little. The long walk of discipleship requires a long view of forgiveness. Grace must be the constant motivation and love and celebration of the pilgrim life.

Take the life of Paul as an example. To the Corinthian church, he wrote of his many sufferings for the name of Christ (2 Corinthians 11). What compelled him to suffer so? Was he — like so many — a naturally zealous man? Was it his craving for adventure? Did he suffer deeply because he was a strong man doing strong work? No. None of that. Paul was perpetually motivated and propelled and moved forward by the glorious grace of God. “The love of Christ compels me,” he would write. He moved because he’d been moved.

This attitude of awe at grace is required equipment for the counter-cultural, different, narrow gate, difficult path of the disciple. “Come,” Jesus invites, but that invitation is filled with peril. Only fear of Him rooted in His grace will see us through. 

The Pilgrim Waits for God - In Strong Hope 

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” (Psalm 130:5-6)

So our pilgrim concludes, “I am in the depths. I’ve cried to God. I want Him to hear me. Thankfully, forgiveness is with Him. So I will wait on Him, eagerly.” This is where he’s landed: “I must wait for God.” He describes the waiting as the kind carried out by night watchmen as they wait for the morning. Eagerly, they wait for their shift to conclude, for rest to come. Our pilgrim has determined to wait for God with the same level of anticipation.

The work of the night watchman is hard. The duties are often light, but the pain of staying alert during a time nature dictates sleep for a man makes the night shift a painful one. But companies and universities and organizations and shopping centers all over the world have deemed the night watchman necessary. Someone has to watch over the stuff. It might not seem so, but night watching is important work. But, essentially, the night watchman is employed to wait for the morning to come.

As the night watchman waits, he longs. The minutes slowly give way to hours and then, finally, an entire shift. Slowly, steadily, the morning comes. But that waiting can be painful and hard. The longing of the night watchman for the end of the shift is strong. The end of his “workday” never catches him by surprise — he is counting down the seconds.

Our singer’s illustration is perfect because it highlights the often tedious nature of waiting for God. He has cried. He has wanted God’s ear. He has become confident in God’s forgiveness. But now, in the same brand of desperate longing of the night watchman, our pilgrim waits for God to work. How will He redeem my situation? he asks. How indeed.

Now, our theology demands times of unanswered prayer, times when God refuses to affirm our desires. He is God and we are not. He is infinite and we are not. He is always good and we are not. He knows His wise plans for the future and we do not. He sees the end from the beginning, living outside time and space, and we do not. So it stands to reason He will say "no" to many of our shortsighted prayers. Perhaps often. This rejection of our shortsighted desires is another facet of His grace.

Additionally, we don’t always know how or what to pray for in the first place (Romans 8:26). Nor do we always pray according to God’s will (James 4:3). Additionally, we don’t always ask in faith (James 1:6-8). So we would expect times where our prayers are rebuffed. If Paul and David heard God say "no," we can expect it as well (2 Corinthians 12:8-9, 2 Samuel 12:20, 23). Even Jesus tasted a bit of rejected prayer when He prayed, “Let this cup pass from me.” Alas, thankfully, it did not.

Still, we ought to wait for God, especially in matters where we need Him to intervene. Far too often we run to God from the depths, during the emergency, even the self-induced kind. We are comforted by His forgiveness, and then we begin to wait for Him to get us out of our mess. But then, even if our depth was caused by decades of ill-advised decision making, we give up on God after two and a half days. We want Him to fix it, and to fix it now. While His forgiveness is immediate, His redemption is often a process. To wait for His slow unwinding of our tangled mess is a requirement for the pilgrim life. Wait to see what God will do.

When you come out of the disaster, allow God time. Noah took his family into the ark. It rained for forty days and nights. The floodwaters overran the earth. But Noah didn’t get off that boat after those forty days of disaster. No, he had to wait. The waters had to subside. The ark had to rest on Ararat. The raven — and then the dove — had to be released. Finally, after almost a year, God urged Noah off the boat. There was the disaster, then there was the waiting. Can you do the same?

I find we often expect too much too soon after a sin-caused disaster. Adultery is committed, and the repentant party wants things back to normal ASAP. They’ve apologized, after-all. No, it will take time. Jesus is rewriting the code of sin, bringing us back into life, but there is a process of redemption. If only we will wait for it. 

The work of the night watchman is necessary.
The work of the night watchman feels unnatural.
Let us wait for God. 

The Pilgrim Testifies of God — Of His Love, Redemption, and Trustworthiness 

“O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption. And he will redeem Israel from all his iniquities.” (Psalm 130:7-8)

Our pilgrim’s process is over. He has gone from the depths and all the way to redemption. His wait has paid off. But there is one final step — he must testify. He turns to the congregation, to Israel, to the other pilgrims up in Jerusalem, and urges them to put their hope in the Lord as he had. Our pilgrim had found God’s steadfast love, right there in the mire of his depths. He had seen God’s redemption from his own iniquities, so he says, “He will redeem Israel from all his iniquities.”

There is something powerful in this testimony. It is wonderful to hear, “What God did for me He will do for you,” but this word is stronger than that. This word isn’t just a confession of God’s victorious power. It’s a confession of personal failure followed by God’s victorious power. It’s one thing to say, “I stepped out to obey God and He helped me.” It’s another thing to say, “I stepped out to disobey God. I made a mess of things. Then I cried to God and He forgave, but also redeemed the situation.”

In speaking this way, the pilgrim reminds us of God’s power to redeem. The God who pulled Israel out of their slavery in Egypt is no one-hit-wonder. And what He did at the exodus was not a singular event, but His nature. He always longs to pull His people out of their mire, out of their depths, their slavery, their sin. It is what He does because it is who He is. Our pilgrim knows this, sings this, and testifies of this.

As long as we walk around with plastic smiles telling everyone — directly or implicitly — that our lives are rosy because of a long string of good decisions and faithful obedience, we will have missed an opportunity. We will have sold a lie. We are what we are by the grace of God. The more we can testify of this to others the better.

The enemy loves to tell people they are the only ones to have sinned so badly. This lie isolates them in a prison cell of secrecy. They could never talk for fear of exposure. No one can know of their deep failures. But God has something better. In the community, there is to be testimony. Others must hear of God’s work of redemption in your life, for it is God’s redemption they need. This final phrase of the song helps us urge one another on toward God.

Turn to Him! Trust Him! With Him - in the face of our failures - is love and redemption.