Psalm 40:1–42:11

^1–340I waited and waited and waited for God.

At last he looked; finally he listened.

He lifted me out of the ditch,

pulled me from deep mud.

He stood me up on a solid rock

to make sure I wouldn’t slip.

He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,

a praise-song to our God.

More and more people are seeing this:

they enter the mystery,

abandoning themselves to God.

^4–5Blessed are you who give yourselves over to God,

turn your backs on the world’s “sure thing,”

ignore what the world worships;

The world’s a huge stockpile

of God-wonders and God-thoughts.

Nothing and no one

comes close to you!

I start talking about you, telling what I know,

and quickly run out of words.

Neither numbers nor words

account for you.

⁶Doing something for you, bringing something to you—

that’s not what you’re after.

Being religious, acting pious—

that’s not what you’re asking for.

You’ve opened my ears

so I can listen.

^7–8So I answered, “I’m coming.

I read in your letter what you wrote about me,

And I’m coming to the party

you’re throwing for me.”

That’s when God’s Word entered my life,

became part of my very being.

^9–10I’ve preached you to the whole congregation,

I’ve kept back nothing, God—you know that.

I didn’t keep the news of your ways

a secret, didn’t keep it to myself.

I told it all, how dependable you are, how thorough.

I didn’t hold back pieces of love and truth

For myself alone. I told it all,

let the congregation know the whole story.

^11–12Now God, don’t hold out on me,

don’t hold back your passion.

Your love and truth

are all that keeps me together.

When troubles ganged up on me,

a mob of sins past counting,

I was so swamped by guilt

I couldn’t see my way clear.

More guilt in my heart than hair on my head,

so heavy the guilt that my heart gave out.

^13–15Soften up, God, and intervene;

hurry and get me some help,

So those who are trying to kidnap my soul

will be embarrassed and lose face,

So anyone who gets a kick out of making me miserable

will be heckled and disgraced,

So those who pray for my ruin

will be booed and jeered without mercy.

^16–17But all who are hunting for you—

oh, let them sing and be happy.

Let those who know what you’re all about

tell the world you’re great and not quitting.

And me? I’m a mess. I’m nothing and have nothing:

make something of me.

You can do it; you’ve got what it takes—

but God, don’t put it off.

A David Psalm

^1–341Dignify those who are down on their luck;

you’ll feel good—that’s what God does.

God looks after us all,

makes us robust with life—

Lucky to be in the land,

we’re free from enemy worries.

Whenever we’re sick and in bed,

God becomes our nurse,

nurses us back to health.

^4–7I said, “God, be gracious!

Put me together again—

my sins have torn me to pieces.”

My enemies are wishing the worst for me;

they make bets on what day I will die.

If someone comes to see me,

he mouths empty platitudes,

All the while gathering gossip about me

to entertain the street-corner crowd.

These “friends” who hate me

whisper slanders all over town.

They form committees

to plan misery for me.

^8–9The rumor goes out, “He’s got some dirty,

deadly disease. The doctors

have given up on him.”

Even my best friend, the one I always told everything

—he ate meals at my house all the time!—

has bitten my hand.

¹⁰God, give grace, get me up on my feet.

I’ll show them a thing or two.

^11–12Meanwhile, I’m sure you’re on my side—

no victory shouts yet from the enemy camp!

You know me inside and out, you hold me together,

you never fail to stand me tall in your presence

so I can look you in the eye.

¹³Blessed is God, Israel’s God,

always, always, always.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

A psalm of the sons of Korah

^1–342A white-tailed deer drinks

from the creek;

I want to drink God,

deep draughts of God.

I’m thirsty for God-alive.

I wonder, “Will I ever make it—

arrive and drink in God’s presence?”

I’m on a diet of tears—

tears for breakfast, tears for supper.

All day long

people knock at my door,

Pestering,

“Where is this God of yours?”

⁴These are the things I go over and over,

emptying out the pockets of my life.

I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,

right out in front,

Leading them all,

eager to arrive and worship,

Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—

celebrating, all of us, God’s feast!

⁵Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?

Why are you crying the blues?

Fix my eyes on God—

soon I’ll be praising again.

He puts a smile on my face.

He’s my God.

^6–8When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse

everything I know of you,

From Jordan depths to Hermon heights,

including Mount Mizar.

Chaos calls to chaos,

to the tune of whitewater rapids.

Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers

crash and crush me.

Then God promises to love me all day,

sing songs all through the night!

My life is God’s prayer.

^9–10Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God,

“Why did you let me down?

Why am I walking around in tears,

harassed by enemies?”

They’re out for the kill, these

tormentors with their obscenities,

Taunting day after day,

“Where is this God of yours?”

¹¹Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?

Why are you crying the blues?

Fix my eyes on God—

soon I’ll be praising again.

He puts a smile on my face.

He’s my God.