The Appeal and Prayer of a Waiting Soul

Next Part The Appeal and Prayer of a Waiting Soul 2

"And now, Lord, what do I wait for? My hope is in You. Deliver me from all my transgressions; make me not the reproach of the foolish." Psalm 39:7, 8

This psalm was written under peculiar feelings, and while the Psalmist was passing through a peculiar experience. This indeed is the case with well near every psalm, though we cannot always so distinctly trace out the experience as in the one before us. Let none think that David could sit down at pleasure and write off a psalm. Before he could pen one of these divine compositions, he must have been brought by the Spirit of God into a special experience; special feelings being thus wrought in his soul by the power of the Spirit, he must next have special words dictated by the same almighty Teacher. And when he was under such solemn impressions and such inspired feelings, and was taught such inspired words, he sat down and poured forth those heavenly strains which were first sung in the tabernacle, and then laid up with the other scriptures to be perpetual breasts of consolation for the exercised family of God.

Nor let anyone think that he can understand the meaning, or use the words of the psalm, except as he is taught by the same Spirit and brought into the same experience. If he have not the same key, he cannot turn the wards of the lock.

By examining this psalm, we may, with God's blessing, gather some of the peculiar feelings of the Psalmist when it gushed warm from his heart and mouth.

1. It seems to me, then, that he was at this time stretched upon a bed of sickness; for we find him dwelling much upon the uncertainty and frailty of life. "O spare me," he says in the last verse, as if the Lord were about to cut short his days, "that I may recover strength before I go hence and be no more." Again—"Lord, make me to know my end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am," or, as we read in the margin, "what time I have here."

2. But besides the bodily affliction under which the Psalmist seems to have been laboring, it appears as if the Lord was at this time chastening him very heavily in soul, for he prays, "Remove Your stroke away from me; I am consumed by the blow of Your hand." He cries out here as one who was writhing under a sense of God's displeasure.

3. But further, these strokes of God's chastening rod, and these blows of His heavy hand, were laying bare the iniquity of his heart; for he says, "When You with rebukes correct man for iniquity, You make his beauty to consume away like a moth; surely every man is vanity."

4. Lying, then, in this way under the double stroke of God, stricken in body, and smitten in conscience, he looks, so to speak, out of his chamber window, and takes a survey of mankind in general. Viewing with spiritual eyes their useless cares and vain disquietudes, and yet seeing how by all these they were kept from divine realities, from the true knowledge of God and of themselves, he bursts forth, "Surely every man walks in a vain show; surely they are disturbed in vain—he heaps up riches, and knows not who shall gather them."

5. Put besides this, it would appear that his conscience was now made exceedingly tender, so that he dare not speak lest sin should be stirred. "I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue; I will keep my mouth with a bridle while the wicked is before me."

6. Coupled with this (not to enlarge further upon the point), we see also a blessed submission to the will of God wrought in his soul. "I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because You are the one who has done this."

Prostrate, then, in body and spirit under the afflicting hand of God, and having these divine impressions wrought in his soul by the blessed Spirit, he breathes forth the words of the text, "And now, Lord, what do I wait for? my hope is in You. Deliver me from all my transgressions; make me not the reproach of the foolish."

Our text contains four distinct clauses, which I shall, as the Lord may enable, attempt to open up one by one as they lie before me.

I. "And now, Lord, what do I wait for?"
One reason why I have been endeavoring this evening to give a faint sketch of the Psalmist's experience while penning this psalm, was to show that David was not always in this frame of soul. He was brought into it by the Spirit of God working in and by those peculiar circumstances with which he was surrounded. He was not always able, nor are we always able, to say unto the Lord, "What do I wait for?" His soul was not always thus chastened, always thus meek, always thus waiting upon God, always thus able to appeal to Him with simplicity and godly sincerity. The fan in God's chastening hand had first winnowed away the chaff and dust of SELF out of his soul before he could come to Him with that prostration of spirit, that brokenness and humility, and to crown all, that beautiful simplicity, "Now, Lord, what do I wait for?"

We may use the 'words'; but that is a very different thing from possessing the same child-like brokenness, the same godly sincerity, the same filial tenderness, the same bowing down of heart, in a word, the same heavenly frame of soul in which David was when he thus earnestly appealed to God. Before we can use the words as David used them, the Lord must take us by His own hand and mold us into the same experience as the potter moulds the clay. But if we are brought by the hand of God into this simple, child-like, tender, penitential frame—and this is for the most part only under the chastening, afflicting rod of the Most High—it will be sweet and blessed to walk in David's track, use David's words, and feel a measure of David's simplicity and godly sincerity in our soul.

A. In examining these words, it may be as well to see first what David did NOT wait for.This may somewhat clear the way to see what he was waiting for. One thing seems pretty plain; he was not waiting for any temporal, earthly advantages, or anxiously expecting any measure of worldly happiness. Those carnal desires and earthly longings which engage the hearts of thousands had been, for the time at least, winnowed out of him by the breath of God's displeasure. Doubtless he wished to live a little longer; he clung to life, as all men, even God's children, do cling to it, until the Lord is pleased to dissolve that last tie which binds them to earth. "Spare me," he cries, "that I may recover my strength." But though he clung to life, he did not wait for life. Eternal things had such a firm place in his heart, and lay with such weight and power on his conscience, that there was no room for earthly desires, no, not for life itself.

But did he wait, under these circumstances, for wealth and temporal prosperity? As he looked out of his sick room he saw "all men walking in a vain show." Men, he saw, were generally walking, not in the possession and enjoyment of what was substantial and eternal, but only of what was shadowy and delusive. He perceived, therefore, how "they were disturbed in vain; heaping up riches, not knowing who should gather them." Could he, then, be waiting for that about which he saw men were disquieting themselves in vain? Longing after realities, could he pant after mere phantoms?

Or was he breathing after human applause? Did he pine for the perishing breath of dying worms? We may be sure, when he was lying under the afflicting hand of God in body and soul, human praise and human dispraise, whether his name were on the lips of admiring thousands, or he sank into the grave unnoticed and unknown, were to him matters of indifference. But not to enlarge further, was there anything of a temporal nature that he was waiting for? Nothing, absolutely nothing!

Now a man does not very easily, nor very often, come into this spot. It needs some, I might say much, "furnace work" before a man can really come into this experience. So closely, so firmly, does nature cleave to us, that it is rarely thus put off; so pressing are its desires, so importunate its desires, that its voice is rarely thus so silent.

B. But having seen what David did not wait for, let us attempt to gather what he Did wait for.

1. First and foremost, we may lay down as an object of his waiting heart, a clear manifestation of the love of God.I do not mean to say that he had not enjoyed this before; but when the Lord was correcting him for iniquity, rebuking him with His heavy strokes, and consuming him as the moth consumes the garment, all sensible realization of it was gone. The cloud upon the throne hid the face of the Lord. It is indeed this only which can really comfort and support the soul with death in prospect, eternity in view, and the hand of God upon the troubled conscience. This alone can give solid peace, and dispel those gloomy doubts and fears which, like night birds, flap their dismal wings over the soul as death seems to draw near. By this alone the sting of death is removed, the mouth of hell is closed, and the gates of heaven are opened. Well then might he say, "Lord, what do I wait for?" The manifestation of Your pardoning love to my heart.

2. But was there anything else besides that he waited for? David at this time was lying under the rebukes of God; the chastening hand of the Lord's displeasure lay heavy upon him. "Remove," he cries, "Your stroke away from me; I am consumed by the blow of Your hand." He was therefore waiting for the removal of the chastening hand of God; or, if the Lord still continued to chastise, to be enabled to feel that the rod was dipped in love. Languishing in body, troubled in mind, with a load of guilt on his conscience, well might he plead that these strokes might cease, or that he might be able to regard them as fatherly chastisements, which were working together for his spiritual good.

3. But was he waiting for nothing else? He was waiting also to have his sins subdued, his powerful lusts and corruptions overcome by the grace of God, that they might no longer, as they had been accustomed, tease and distress his soul. The corrections he was receiving for iniquity would necessarily make him desire the subduing of iniquity; for unless subdued, a repetition of sin would draw down a repetition of chastisement.

4. But was he waiting for nothing else? O yes; he was waiting for a word to be spoken to his soul. We cannot read the 119th Psalm without seeing David's intense love for and desire after God's word. It was to him sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, his daily delight, and his nightly meditation—"The entrance of Your word gives light." "I opened my mind and panted, for I longed for Your commandments."

5. But was he waiting for nothing else? Yes; he was waiting for a smile from God's gracious countenance; to behold all the clouds that shrouded His face from view dispersed, and to see the beams of the Sun of Righteousness break forth from behind those clouds and shine with brightness into his soul. The frowns under which he was lying made him pant after a smile—"Lord, lift up the light of Your countenance upon me."

6. But was he waiting for nothing more? Yes, he was waiting for the will of God to be accomplished in his soul; for the Lord to manifest His victorious power, to dethrone his idols, subdue his creature affections, and take such complete possession of his heart that there might be room there for God and God alone. Inordinate affections had been alike his sin and sorrow. Lust after women had drawn him into adultery and murder; and an idolized son had well near cost him his life and his throne.

7. But was he waiting for anything else? Yes; for the mind of God to be stamped upon his soul, that he might be cast into the mold of the divine image, having no thoughts but the thoughts of God, no desires but the desires of God, and no will but the will of God. To be teachable, patient, submissive, humble, child-like, tender, obedient, watchful, prayerful, spiritually-minded; to have the power of vital godliness brought into the heart, dwell on the lips, and be made manifest in the life; to be purged from hypocrisy, pharisaism, covetousness, pride, and worldly-mindedness; to speak, act, and walk in the fear, faith, and love of God; to live a believer's life, and die a believer's death, and then exchange earth for heaven, and sin and sorrow for perfect holiness and endless bliss—O what a store of such and similar spiritual desires are crowded in the words, "Lord, what do I wait for?"

But the very words themselves clearly imply that he had no power to produce these heavenly realities in his own soul. He groaned out his desires after them, supplicating God that He would bestow them upon him; and yet he was utterly unable to bring the least portion of them into his heart. But he knew that God, according to His revealed will, must be waited upon, inquired of, supplicated unto; and he knew also that, for the most part, He delayed His answers until He saw that the soul was in a fit state to receive them.

But what kept him waiting? for we need to be kept waiting as well as to be put, in the first instance, in a waiting position. What kept him close to the footstool, made him persevere, and wrought this feeling in his heart, that he would take no denial? What fixed him to the throne, in spite of all opposition and all obstacles, the workings of invisible agency, Satan's suggestions, infidel doubts, and the surmises and suspicions of his own evil heart? The greatness of the blessing that God was able to bestow upon him.

All these things it was working together in his soul, which wrought in him that experience which he poured forth in the simple yet most expressive words, "And now, Lord, what do I wait for?"

The words are easy; anybody can make use of them; and the more that men's consciences are hardened, the more freely do they make use of them. They are used all over the kingdom, in all the churches and chapels of the land. Catholic and Churchman, Puseyite and Methodist, the Sunday school child and University student, all take the words as freely and unconcernedly into their mouths as they would so much water. But who can enter into their solemn import? Who can come with the same child-like simplicity, and appeal to a heart-searching God with the same godly sincerity? Who can thus lay out his whole soul before God, and prostrate his spirit before the footstool of Jehovah? Only he in whom the blessed Spirit is working in the same manner as He wrought in the soul of David. Only he can really say, "Now, Lord, what do I wait for?" It is indeed a blessed posture to be lying thus at God's feet, and to be able to tell Him that we are waiting only for Himself. Such a soul is indeed precious in God's sight, and such an experience is indeed wrought by His own hand in the heart.

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