Movement Not Explanation

by Amy Reardon

“Both Psalm 88 and 89 end without a resolution; these Psalms have no proper closure. The lack of closure is painful for the reader who seeks answers for difficult theological questions arising out of the enigmas of life.” (Marvin Tate, Word Biblical Commentary, vol.20, p.430).

I read on as the commentary further underscored my own frustration and hurt from reading Psalm 89. I thought the Psalms were supposed to bring comfort, but over the past few months as I’ve dedicated myself to studying them, I have more typically found myself confused, angry or sad.

Today, I opened my Bible desperately needing reassurance that everything was going to be okay. The personal trials I have faced of late seem too much and I simply wanted, needed, a spiritual pep-talk. I held my breath as I turned to this morning’s Psalm, hoping it would be one of promise and joy.

The beginning of the Psalm cheers me. The Psalmist spends 37 verses talking about God’s might and his faithfulness, especially to his anointed one David. He delineates God’s firm promises to David. Verses 33 and 34 say this:

“I will not remove from him my steadfast love, or be false to my faithfulness. I will not violate my covenant, or alter the word that went forth from my lips.”

I personalize these promises, applying them to myself - not a presumption I regularly make when the biblical circumstances are particular, but today I needed the encouragement.

Then, I hit verse 38 and the rug is pulled out from under me:

“But now you [God] have spurned and rejected him…You have renounced the covenant with your servant…”

The Psalm drones on miserably about God breaking his promises and adding insult to injury, the commentary I’m reading informs me that the final verse - which ceases to berate the Lord and gives him momentary praise - is not even part of the original Psalm. All it offers is a feeling of abandonment by God and an urgent, desperate plea for him to remember his servant.

I tuck my books away and head for the shower and I realize my eyes are filled with tears. It is not solely desperation that has brought them on. Just before putting my commentary away I read something that filled me with awe. It was a quote from Elie Wiesel in The Wandering Jew. One of his characters says: “When will you understand that you are living and searching in error, because God means movement and not explanation?”  I am reminded of the limits of my human understanding compared to God’s boundless deity. I think of how pathetically human it is that I always want everything to have a justifiable reason, to always need the scales to balance, for everything to make sense to my finite mind.  I expect God to play by the rules - but whose rules?

God owes me no explanation for my hardships. Nor is he duty-bound to make the circumstances of life suit my pleasure. He moves, he works, he presses forward.

This too, however, causes concern. If God is continually pressing on toward his higher purposes, is my life trivial to him? Are my problems so insignificant to his mission that he cannot be bothered with them? Do I have the right to ponder my personal worries when I should be in forward motion with God? I think of Jesus explaining how God keeps track of the death of sparrows… surely then my problems matter to him?

I exit the shower and turn on the television to distract myself. I’ve got to get on with my day.

And then… God reaches through the television.

On the television, I see John Walsh, the host of America’s Most Wanted.  Walsh and his wife founded the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and are zealous crime fighters. Laws have been changed, policies enacted and a great many missing children have been found because of the work of the Walsh’s.  That work began 27 years ago after their six-year-old son, Adam, was found decapitated.

Today it was announced that after all those years, Adam’s murder case has been solved. “The not knowing has been a torture, but that journey’s over … Today is a wonderful day. We can end this chapter of our lives,” Walsh said. Their hearts will ache forever, they told reporters, but they can finally move on. Through his tears, Walsh addressed the American public. He told us that those who seek justice should never give up.

I pause to imagine God, throughout these 27 years, whispering, “I am with you” into the ears of Adam Walsh’s parents. Though my problems are miniscule compared to theirs, I think I hear him whispering the same thing in my ear.

God was there when Adam Walsh was murdered by Ottis Toole, who died in 1996. God knew who was guilty. I wonder if the Walsh’s ever felt like the Psalmist - abandoned by God. I wonder if they ever prayed the words of verse 46: “How long, O Lord? Will you hide yourself forever?” They might have modified the Psalmist’s words this way: “How long will you thwart justice, Lord? You know who killed our son; will you hide this information forever?”

The positive identification of Adam Walsh’s murderer cannot bring Adam back. He can’t even do time for that crime (though he did time for others) because he is dead. Yet the Walsh’s are now visibly filled with joy and relief.

And I think to myself, “God means movement, and not explanation.”

God doesn’t explain why He didn’t intervene and save Adam’s life. He doesn’t defend himself over the fact that it took 27 years for the truth to be found out. God’s seemingly slow movement has come to its fruition in this case. And that is enough.

God’s chosen timing must be enough for me, too. I strive together with God for his kingdom purposes. Along the way, I get a few bumps and bruises - occasionally even a great gash. And though God desires, acknowledges and responds to my prayers, things don’t always happen in the way I suggest or at the pace I suggest. My determination to trust can only prove itself as I am required to wait on the Lord.

Arthur McGill wrote, “The Christian can know joy in connection with sorrow, but only because he knows the power of God is overcoming the power of evil.” (Suffering: A Test of Theological Method, 117.) Overcoming evil is THE great movement of God. He is headed toward his ultimate, eschatological victory. Though the Psalmist thought that God had abandoned his promise to establish the throne of David’s descendants forever (v. 4), he was short-sighted. Jesus is the descendant of David, and his eventual reign will be without end. The “closure” of Psalm 89 is not denied. It is merely delayed.

The day is concluding now, and I find that, despite the hardships it brought, I have hope. I don’t have hope that the issues I’m facing are going to dissolve. But I feel God moving at two levels: moving toward good results in my little life, and moving toward his ultimate universal purposes.

I peek ahead to Psalm 90, tomorrow’s psalm. It begins: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

Writer: Amy Reardon is a Salvation Army officer from the USA Western Territory who was recently appointed editor of YS (Young Salvationist) Magazine.  She has served in both suburban and inner city corps and in divisional youth departments.

3 Comments to Movement Not Explanation

1. wow. poignant, full, rich and deep. true. a breathe of God’s wind blowing through me… reminding me too. thank you.
   Danielle
Danielle Strickland on January 3rd, 2009

2. Thank you, Danielle. I wasn’t sure if this would communicate with anyone. I’m so glad you found something worthwhile in it.
Amy Reardon on January 5th, 2009

3. Wow Amy - that is a beautiful heartfelt piece. A great reminder of how we can get so consumerist in our Christianity and expect “results”. I suppose it’s a measure of our lack of faith and how amongst our frenetic activity sometimes God just wants us to “be still and know”.
Bruce Redman on January 6th, 2009

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