Whence the Joy?
Psalm 84 is a favorite of mine because it is the basis for one of the most beautiful pieces of music that I have ever sung… Ein Deutsches Requiem by Johannes Brahms. Written when the composer was only thirty-six years old, this masterpiece draws upon Luther's translation of the Old and New Testaments and the Apocrypha to create a poetic narrative that moves from the grief of the bereaved to the consolation offered by the promise of resurrection. The music into which that narrative is embedded transports the hearer beyond the confines of earth to heaven itself in a joyous celebration of life everlasting… life after death. The fourth movement, the vision of eternity espoused by Psalm 84, is the centerpiece… the keystone… the simple, yet sweepingly majestic crown jewel of the entire composition. If I could have one wish for my own funeral, it would be the performance of this incredible composition.
We live in a death-denying culture… a society that refuses to acknowledge that death is a reality and a natural part of the cycle of life. We celebrate youth… and we hide our elderly away… all because of an unfounded fear that old age means we are sliding into oblivion …into an abyss from which there is no return. While I will admit that I have seen some improvements in access to information and television programming, there are still subjects we “don’t talk about in polite company” and there are still situations that are hidden behind a veil to maintain the appearance that all is well… and, by that we mean that everyone is healthy… happy… and untouched by human tragedy. Unlike births and marriages, death is the major life event which society seems much more comfortable discussing after the fact than before it happens. Even in this age of growing secularism and spiritual apathy, when death comes to call, people turn to the church for answers. In death, as one pastor said, “They all come home.”
The fear of death is one of the most significant anxieties that we, as human beings, have and, yet, we refuse to talk about it. Karen Boland, Associate Pastor of a church in Warren, Michigan, said, “Every one of us is standing in the exit line… and we don’t know where in the line we are. Children die before parents… parents die before grandparents… [and] that randomness adds to our fear.” The reality is that we don’t know what happens after we die and our fear of the unknown adds to our anxiety about death itself… and so we fight to stay alive, sometimes far beyond what is reasonable and humane.
One of my hospice patients, Beth, was a young woman in her early forties who had Stage IV breast cancer. She had two daughters in college, one nineteen and the other twenty-one years old. When I met her, the cancer had metastasized to all the other organs in her body and her primary physician recommended that she return home under hospice care for the time that she had left, which was projected to be six weeks or less. Beth did not want to undergo any further chemotherapy, but she was also afraid to die. Despite my counsel and the counsel of her physician and several close friends, she refused to inform her two daughters of her impeding death, for she did not wish to disturb their lives at school, where they had just started a new semester of classes. She elected to undergo another round of chemotherapy, even though her oncologist himself conceded that, given the test results and her weakened condition, there was no chance of prolonging her life. Two weeks later, Beth died alone and in significant pain, and her two daughters, devastated by the sudden loss of their mother and only remaining parent, were unable to return to school after her funeral to complete the semester they had just begun. They wept inconsolably for all the things they wanted to say to her that were left unsaid.
Contrast that story with the story of Ursula, another hospice patient who was confined to a wheelchair due to the loss of all function on her right side from a stroke, and dependent upon oxygen constantly during the three years that I knew her because of her diagnosis of congestive heart failure. Ursula greeted each day with a smile and each person she met with a query about their lives. She often talked about death with me, and included her daughter, Sylvia, in the conversation whenever she was present. They were not morbid discussions, filled with fear and dread, but a calm and confident reflection of her faith and her knowledge that she was loved and cherished by a sovereign God who cared for her in this life and would care for her in the next, whatever that life might hold.
Ursula’s faith is the one that shines from the depths of Psalm 84, which, along with Psalm 23, was one of her favorites. This psalm, for her, verbalized the deep joy of worshipping this God who had been at the center of her life for decades. She, who had personally witnessed the atrocities of the Germans against the Polish people; who, as a young adult, had been uprooted from her home in Germany and transplanted in a foreign country to live the rest of her days; and who had outlived three husbands, had a faith in God that sustained her in her final illness. Her story, while it is special to me for she was special to me, is not unique, and the power of a faith that strong is not just conjecture. Research shows that there is a strong correlation between the mental health of individuals and their spiritual beliefs. “A deep religious faith and being involved in a faith community makes a difference for those with serious or terminal illnesses,” says Dr. Harold G. Koenig, author of The Healing Power of Faith and a professor at Duke University. “Research shows that such involvement is related to less depression and anxiety, greater well being and higher quality of life. It may also be linked with stronger immune functioning, lower blood pressure and longer survival.” Ursula’s deep faith in God drove away any fears she had about her own death and led her to worship God at all times and in all places. Because of her faith, she was able, as the psalm says, to go from strength to strength until she peacefully slipped from this life to the next at her daughter’s home, surrounded by her family and friends.
My question to you today is “Whence the joy?” From where… what is the source… of this faith that is so powerful that it can destroy the fear of death and the power that it has over our lives? What is it about that faith that fills a believer with joy? What is the source of this longing for God’s presence… for a worshipper’s shouts of praise… and a believer’s confidence in the future, whatever that future may hold?
Part of the answer, I believe, lies in the identity of those who are described in this psalm. At the beginning, is the psalm talking about angels, when it talks about those who live in the house of the Lord and make a nest close to the altar of God? Can this be a description of those righteous and holy messengers of God who have reason to rejoice for they live in God’s house and enjoy God’s presence at all times? Are these the ones who ceaselessly sing and shout for joy, while the rest of us aspire to be in their place, sharing eternity with God? And who are those whose hearts are on the highway to Zion, mentioned in verse five? Does that include all Christians in this world who are struggling along the straight and narrow way… whose faces are turned toward God, but who still walk through the dry desert valleys of Baca, praying for rain? Are these the ones who rejoice because they know that God will provide… that even in the driest desert, God sends rains and pools of water? Are these the ones who, like Ursula, move from strength to strength by leaning upon the God of gods? Finally, who are those who call God their king… the Lord of hosts… and look to God as their shield in battle? Are these the ones who feel battered and bruised by life… those who feel engulfed and overwhelmed by the demands of the day… who are tempted and tossed by the tumult of evil that draws them away from God into paths of wickedness that they feel helpless to resist? Are these the ones who do not feel worthy to serve even as a doorkeeper in God’s house… doorkeepers who are always standing outside, but longing to be inside and in the presence of God?
The thread that runs through this entire psalm, despite the identity of the many voices, is the recognition that God is the source of the joy and the strength of God’s people. God is the “whence” in the question that I posed earlier. But how do we know that? How are we convinced of that? What is the source of our confidence that God is “all in all” for us? Our confidence that God is the source of our joy and our strength rests on two truths given to us in scripture… one from the Old Testament and one from the New Testament. The first truth is that our conviction of God’s goodness and power to save comes from our knowledge of what God has done for us in the past… and our confidence that God will do the same in the future. The God of Covenant… of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob… who time after time rescued his children from danger… from destruction… from despair… this God has always been faithful. If you do not know this, then it has been awhile since you have read the sweeping epic of the Old Testament and its unchanging chronicle of God’s faithfulness to humankind.
The second truth is that our conviction of God’s goodness and power to save comes from our knowledge of God’s priceless gift to us… God’s gift of love… of grace …and of mercy in the life, death, and resurrection of God’s son. Our life in Christ is eternal and is not bound by the constraints of this world. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have hope of eternal life… life that supersedes our life in this world in every conceivable way. It is this promise of eternal life that allowed W. B. Hinson, a great preacher of a past generation, to tell this story just before he died. He said, "I remember a year ago when a doctor told me, 'You have an illness from which you will not recover.' I walked out to where I live five miles from Portland, Oregon, and I looked across at that mountain that I love. I looked at the river in which I rejoice, and I looked at the stately trees that are always God's own poetry to my soul. Then in the evening I looked up into the great sky where God was lighting His lamps, and I said, 'I may not see you many more times, but Mountain, I shall be alive when you are gone; and River, I shall be alive when you cease running toward the sea; and Stars, I shall be alive when you have fallen from your sockets in the great down-pulling of the material universe!'"
Our past is in God… and our future is in God. How can we doubt that our present is also in God? It is God who shelters us from harm… as God has always done throughout history… so that we, just as the birds, might build our nests in the safety of God’s house. It is God who gives us strength in times of trouble… just as God has always done with God’s people down through the march of time… so that when we walk through the dry… discouraging… and desolate valleys of life, we will find pools of water and refreshing rains from heaven. It is God who showers us with gifts and does not withhold from us any good thing… just as God, in the fullness of time, did not withhold his own Son… so that we might know the grace… the mercy… and the peace of life eternal in God’s presence. It is from this sure and certain knowledge of God’s goodness towards us that our faith is built… and from this sure and certain knowledge that our joy is made complete. And in this sure and certain knowledge, the words of Psalm 84 come alive for us and our souls long for the courts of the Lord. Death becomes, for us, not an end, but a transition… a time when pilgrims on the highway to Zion arrive at their destination and see the God of gods that they worship… a time when doorkeepers are welcomed inside and join the chorus of angels singing. I think the message for us today is simply this…
And ye beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow
Look now, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing
Oh, rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing. Amen.
Psalm 84; Ephesians 6:10-20