Immutable in Love

“Your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.” Psalm 138:8 NRSV

A great way to sum up this psalm of thanksgiving, don’t you think? The psalmist declares gratitude before gods and kings in the face of trouble and the wrath of enemies. We’re not given any details about the crisis averted here. But then we rarely are. And maybe that’s on purpose so that we can supply our own crisis du jour. We know the elation that comes from being released from something difficult. We understand the need to shout our gratitude; our joy has to come out somehow. Psalm 138 can give us some words and a structure for declaring gratitude.

Who are the gods before whom we sing the Lord’s praise? Is this about interreligious debate and whose God is the true God? Or is this about recognizing that there are far too many sources we turn to for deliverance these days? What do we rely upon as a nation or as a culture? Some say we elevate material goods or the money to purchase them to the status of gods in our lives. Others claim we bow down to the privileges of race or gender, economic status, or political party. Whatever the gods of this world might be, Psalm 138 invites us to reorient ourselves with God acknowledged as the source of salvation and hope.

A similar approach could be made to the kings mentioned in verse 4. Except the difference here is that the kings are said to join in the act of praise with the psalmist. This is not about conquering or overcoming; this is about recruiting. This is about telling the story or singing the song so well that even the leaders of the nations can’t help but join in the singing, can’t help but share the story. This is a different approach from one of power and position. They shall sing along, says the psalmist, because they have heard the words. And where will they hear them? From the mouth of the Lord, of course. But who will speak those words? Who will sing that song? We will, of course. We will sing it with conviction and passion. We will sing with our hearts and our hands and not just our mouths.

And what is the guiding rhythm of that song or the central theme of that story? God’s steadfast love endures forever. It seems simple to us, I know. This is something we know in the core of our being, something that echoes in the depths of our souls. It is there in our creeds and in our prayers; it is in our theology and our practice. Except when it isn’t.

The psalm doesn’t end with a statement about the immutability of God’s love. It almost does. But then there is one more plea at the end: “Do not forsake the work of your hands.” Why did that get thrown in there? This confident singer, this exuberant storyteller, suddenly seems to get cold feet. Or reveals a hint of worry. Your steadfast love endures forever, doesn’t it? Won’t it? Please?

Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe it isn’t a hint of doubt, a trembling behind the declaration of faith. Maybe it is a word of encouragement. Keep going, God, push through. Don’t forsake the work of your hands; keep your hand on the plow. Maybe it is a raised hand in the throes of passionate worship, a getting on board this gospel train. Don’t forsake the work of your hands, or “Me too, Lord, sign me up!” I want to be a part of that work; I want to be redeemed by your love that never ends.

To notice conflicting emotions in one prayer, one song of praise, only serves to make it more human. We are nothing if not a mess of conflicting emotions. Our faith sits alongside our doubt. Our certainty and confidence live in the same house as our fear and feelings of inadequacy. That’s who we are. That’s the one God chooses to rescue. We aren’t expected to be perfect before grace comes. We don’t have to be experts on loving before we can experience the immutable love of God. In fact, this is what makes God so worthy of worship. The steadfast love of the Lord endures forever. We are overwhelmed by this truth; we are overcome by this grace; we are humbled into gratitude by this truth. And then we proclaim it before gods and kings amid troubles and the wrath of enemies. And then we try, again and again; we try to love like that.