Holding On to the Dust

Wake up! Do something, Lord!

Why are you sleeping?

Don’t desert us forever.

Why do you keep looking away?

Don’t forget our sufferings

and all of our troubles.

We are flat on the ground,

holding on to the dust.

Do something! Help us!

Show how kind you are

and come to our rescue.

Psalm 44:23-26 (CEV)



Sometimes a phrase grabs our imagination and takes on powerful meaning. Today, such a phrase caught my eye that shall stick with me.



I noticed the words, “holding on to the dust” embedded in Psalm 44. I was caught by the image of being prostrate on the ground, weak, helpless, in incredible pain - physical, mental, spiritual - and holding on for dear life lest I descend into madness.



Fortunately, such moments have been infrequent in my life, and I hope that is true for you too. Yet they are real, and will surely happen to us all. The tragic death of a 12 year old at a church camp comes to mind. The unexpected earthquake that destroys a whole nation. The suicide that robs us of a beloved relative or friend. The loss of a relationship, the death of a pet, even the breaking of an heirloom - which may seem insignificant to some, but precious beyond price to others - all can be devastating. Then it is we find ourselves “holding on to the dust”, and our hearts cry out to God “Do something! Help me.”



The Psalmist puts into words what our lips might hesitate to utter. Can we talk this way to God? Dare we accuse God of being forgetful, or even asleep? The Psalmist does not hesitate. He tells God exactly how it is with him: “I’m hurting here, God, it’s time to do something.”



I find just being able say the words, helps. I don’t need explanations, excuses, erudite sermons about the goodness of God in contrast to my own sinful ways. I don’t even need for God to speak, or apologize. What I need is the freedom to cry OUCH, and not just to cry out, but have the assurance there is someone who is listening and cares. How much more bearable the unbearable can be when we know we’re not alone.



The Psalmist gives me the courage - and the permission - to reach out to God, frankly, whole- heartedly, sometimes even blasphemously if that’s what it takes. The child who cries over a broken toy is closer to God than the stoic Christian determined to show no tears or utter any complaint. If God could hear Jesus cry out, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Surely God can hear us too.



I have held on to the dust. It is good to know there’s a word for what I’m feeling, and a God big enough, strong enough, caring enough, loving enough to hear my weeping and share my sorrow.

Dr. George Miller