During 2025, Peachtree Church is focusing on the Book of Psalms with a series called Dwell, through which we seek to deepen our conversation with God and open ourselves to hearing his response. The practice of praying three times each day will unite the voices of our hearts and souls as we seek the day when we will see the full realization of the Kingdom of God, promised in Revelation 21:3: “…Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.”
We will email devotionals twice weekly with Monday’s providing an overview of the Psalm as a whole, and Wednesday’s focused on that week’s Daily Dwell.
How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land?
Psalm 137:4
If you are a person who has lived life, sooner or later, there comes a point when you hardly recognize your life anymore. The life you knew is gone, and a new life you never wanted is in front of you. It could be a serious illness, or a lost dream. It could be a broken relationship, a death in the family. The life you planned is gone. There is an anchor point missing, and what is left of your life is unrecognizable.
I can remember after my father died, 26 years ago now. It was early March. My relationship with him was central in my life. He was not only my father, but my friend and my connection point to faith. It was as though a meteor had hit my life. My faith had been a childish one of praying for something and expecting that God would answer as I told Him to. My expectation was that my father would always be there to explain and model faith for me. And then he was gone to a place where I could not follow. I was in the deepest grief.
And then Spring started to come. I went outside and heard birds singing, saw sun warming the ground, saw little daffodils shooting up. You would think I would feel encouraged and hopeful. But what I felt was angry. How could Spring come as though it were ignorant of what had happened? My life had stopped. Life should stop.
I wanted my private sorrow to prevent faith, joy, new life, and Spring from coming.
Now, that is pretty absurd.
The Psalmist is in a similar spot. He doesn’t want to sing about joy and faith and the Lord anymore, because he’s angry, grieved and in exile. He’s not in the right place for singing.
Was his faith really not portable? Was the disaster so complete that God Himself is cut off from him? Is there no way to have a faith that accounts for sorrow and pain and trouble, a faith that can still sing?
Or do we, like the Psalmist, just hang up our harps and give up on God altogether?
I think we should not give the Enemy or enemies the satisfaction of stopping our song of faith. We should keep singing in a whisper, or through tears, with a cracked voice if necessary; we should get friends to sing for us if we can’t do it.
Your life may not look like you hoped it would. It may not be recognizable to you anymore. But you can still hope. You can still have faith. You can still sing, even in this strange new land. The world needs the songs of those whose hearts have broken, but who still sing. And our God has the power to come to us and love us, no matter where we find ourselves. We can never be in so strange a land that God is not there.
For Reflection
- What was the lowest point in your life of faith?
- What helped you to keep going, keep believing?
- How did your faith change to encompass even hard losses?
Prayer
Dear Lord, you have been my God in every season of life. In the times when I was broken, you came to me. When life did not make sense, and the loss was immense, you were my light. You will never leave or forsake me no matter what happens to me. I know Winter will not last forever. Spring will come, and I will find a new way to sing a new song of faith. Surround me with your grace and help me to sing again. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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Devotionals