Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Cry Me a River
Psa 137:1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
Psa 137:2 We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
Psa 137:3 For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
Psa 137:4 How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a strange land?
The people of Judah have been taken captive to Babylon. They are hundreds of miles from home, in a strange land, a different culture, a foreign language, and an odd religion. They are missing their people, their homeland, their way of life, their temple and their worship. Sadness prevails, depression seeps into every crevice of their consciousness and misery is their constant companion.
The locals taunt the Jews with requests for some of the old songs. how about a Gershwin tune? Maybe one calls for some Hava Nagila. But, alas, there is no joy in their step and no song in their heart. They don't feel like singing and they would really rather not praise God at this low ebb in their miserable existence.
Maybe you know how they feel? When you are in the far country feeding filthy swine, having wasted your fortune on riotous living and are destitute, lonely and longing for home, for God's house.
If only! If only I were delivered. If only I had never left home. If only I could sleep in my own bed. If only I were with mom and dad again.
Instead, you turn off the radio, you don't feel like music is appropriate for your mood. You have almost forgotten what home is like (vs 5).
Unlike the captive Jews of old, our trip home begins with a simple prayer. Lord, I'm coming home. Maybe when we get there we can strike up the band once again.