Lent Day 18: The Burning Question, and My Answer

I feel like I've never read Psalm 39 before now.  I know I have, but it feels brand new to me.

It's a little drama unfolding.

I said, ‘I will keep watch over my ways, 
   so that I offend not with my tongue.
‘I will guard my mouth with a muzzle, 
   while the wicked are in my sight.’
So I held my tongue and said nothing; 
   I kept silent but to no avail.   ~Ps. 39:1-3

I'll be good.

I'll be quiet.

I'll watch this damned mouth of mine. (Especially in front of those no good so-and-sos.)

I'll put it in a muzzle, like an unruly animal who can't be trusted not to bite.

But I did, and then look what happened.

My distress increased, my heart grew hot within me; 
   while I mused, the fire was kindled
      and I spoke out with my tongue:
‘Lord, let me know my end and the number of my days, 
   that I may know how short my time is.
‘You have made my days but a handsbreadth,
      and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight; 
   truly, even those who stand upright are but a breath.
‘We walk about like a shadow
      and in vain we are in turmoil; 
   we heap up riches and cannot tell who will gather them.  ~Ps. 39:4-7

I take back what I said-- the part about the "little" drama.

This is actually The Big Drama. The Existential Question. The psalmist can't hold it in any longer.

What is this life?

How long have I got?

Just let me know.

I know my life is not forever, and frankly, it's feeling like it's going to be pretty damned short. A handsbreadth. A little puff of... what? Can you (You) even see it?

Your good people, God-- yes, I'll be bold and say, I'm one-- we are but a breath.

We walk around like shadows, and don't know whether anything we do will amount to anything at all.

Who will benefit from my life? Will anyone?

On this morning on which the grief of those around the world and those in this country feels heavy on my heart, I'm going to speak to the psalmist.

I'm going to speak to anyone who is wondering whether their life matters.

Your life matters.

You are precious.

You may be in pain this morning. I am so sorry. I know there are people in your life who want to help and hold you in your pain.

You may be a victim of violence or a victim of your brain's particular neurological makeup.

I am sorry. I know what you are going through is excruciating.

I implore you to seek help from someone you trust.

I beg you to do the hardest thing you can possibly do: reach out through your pain to another.

Let yourself be held through this. Let yourself be loved through this.

You are precious.

You matter. You are irreplaceable. You are loved.

You are loved, and not just by me.

You are held in a web of love that may be invisible or imperceivable to you.

I believe with all my heart it is there.

You are loved.

If you feel hopeless today, if you are sad you woke up this morning, if you are having thoughts or making plans about self-harm, no matter what time it is, no matter how bad you feel, you can call this number.

Call 1-800-273-8255.

You are precious.

Your life matters.