Praising God in Tough Times (In Praise of Dreams)

Why do we exist? What were we humans put on earth to do? In the larger order of things what purpose do we serve?

Around 1640 our Presbyterian ancestors in England found themselves asking questions like that. They asked other questions too in regard to Christian faith. And every time they came up with a good question and good answer they wrote it down and added it to a “catechism.”

(For those who are used to working with computers but not catechisms, a catechism was the ancient equivalent of FAQs – or Frequently Asked Questions – regarding the faith.)

At the head of the list – meaning it was and is the most important question – those proto-Presbyterians asked: “What is the chief end [or purpose] of humankind?

And they answered their own question: “The chief end of humankind is to glorify God and enjoy God forever.” (“The Shorter Catechism,” revised for inclusive language.)

Nice concept. I’m sure we’d like to believe it … Except that in our current economy, with things as they are, the thought of glorifying and enjoying God seems far-fetched.

Rather than “glorify God,” it’s easier these days to gripe about befuddled politicians. And instead of “enjoying God forever,” we’re bound to worry what might happen in the next moment to our job security or life’s savings.

Pundits tell us “It’s the worst we’ve seen in anyone’s lifetime.” This is uncharted territory, and no one has a map to get us out. It’s like living in a foreign land.

We aren’t the first to be in this quandary. Long ago and far away, Israel found out how hard it is to praise God under adverse conditions. While in exile in Babylon, they prayed with the author of Psalm 137, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

Under normal circumstances, the chief purpose of humankind may be to glorify God and enjoy God forever. But when everything is strange and unfriendly … when you are in exile in Babylon, oppressed and homeless and worried, that’s a tall order. Far easier to do what Job’s friends told him to do after he lost all of his family and wealth. “Curse God and die,” they advised.

Another option, which Psalm 131 seems to suggest, is just to grow quiet and passive. “My heart is not lifted up,” – in other words, I’m not happy – “but I have calmed and quieted my soul.”

I’ll bear my troubles in silence. I won’t complain about bankers who made bad loans or homeowners who got in over their heads, or the greedy pirates and their Ponzi schemes on Wall Street.

I’ll just bite my tongue and quiet my soul … and ride out the storm. But glorify God now …? Enjoy God forever …?

Griping and silence may be standard options in hard times. But as a hardy (even foolhardy!) Presbyterian, I’ll still give a plug for praising God and enjoying God forever.

And I’ll do it based on Psalm 126, today’s Old Testament reading. That reading divides neatly in half. The first three verses tell how God rescued the people from hard times in the past, bringing them home from Babylonian captivity. Then the last three verses ask for God’s deliverance again – only now from a financial disaster (as I read it) from drought and an unlikely harvest – and for God to return them to gladness.

The first half begins: “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion we were like people who dream.” When God brought us home to our native land, we had to pinch ourselves because it didn’t seem we could possibly be awake.

That’s not to say that they were daydreamers, living in la-la-land.

A dream in the Bible is never just a dream. It is a glimpse of the future, a picture of what will come to be. Dreams in the Bible usually point to a profound world that God is creating. So a dream – including the dream in Psalm 126 – leads God’s people to laughter … shouts of joy (glad songs) … and rejoicing – even while they feel trapped or they’re worried about their next meal.

Even in the worst times, the uncharted times, dreams invite us to “glorify and enjoy God,” believing that it all will work out. Somehow. Because we are not alone.

Still, the psalmist is honest, knowing that too often we wake from our dreams to the harsh reality of another day.

That’s where the Psalm takes us in the second half. Hard times return. Trouble comes out of hibernation and strikes again.

So the psalmist prays, “Restore our fortunes [again], O Lord.” (How many of us have been prayed that every day that the Dow Jones Average drops?)

Restore our fortunes! From Wall Street to Detroit. From the GM plant in Janesville to the Harley factories of Milwaukee and to the timber fields up north. For little old ladies on fixed incomes, and the handyman whose phone has stopped ringing with job offers and now rings with creditors wanting to get paid. “Restore our fortunes, O Lord.”

Except that the Psalm is talking about more than money. Money, yes. But more. It’s talking about the general well-being of society. Not just individuals, or corporations, but everybody. It is asking for a viable, and sustainable and adequate livelihood for all.

Let it be like the watercourses in the Negeb, the psalmist implores – like dry river gulches that run full with torrents of water in the rainy season every year. Or like the banks of the Nile in Egypt, that flood, leaving soil and silt, rich nutrients and moisture, for the planting season that follows, so that everyone has a chance.

By the way, California could adopt that dream as its state motto. As you know, that state produces much of America’s produce. But a headline on Friday said: “Californians see billions in losses from drought.”

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, where the rivers have dried up.

For the fair-weather faithful, this may be time to quit praising and start complaining. But for those with some backbone to their beliefs, the praise is undaunted. For the Psalm ends with renewed faith in God and God’s future:

By the mercy and power of God, these troubled times will pass. Those who dream dreams can see it already. And they respond with praise.

Speaking of dreamers, our New Testament reading has them too.

Quoting from the Hebrew prophet Joel on Pentecost day, Peter addresses a stirred up crowd and declares:

As I read that in recent days, I heard something I had not heard before. I heard the prophet say that the people who could be most jaded and cynical after having been through the worst will find themselves in an ideal spot.

If it were being written today, Joel might be thinking about people who lived through the Great Depression, at least one World War, a Dust Bowl, gas rationing and other hard times. The young folk may get visions, Joel says, but the old folk dream dreams. They get the picture of the way God will rescue us again.

So they stand to inherit the same joy that returnees from Babylon expressed in Psalm 126.

Instead of cynicism … praise! Not jaded, after all … but rejoicing. Out of a difficult present, and into a life painted with gratitude, trust and praise!

And, as part of that life … the fellowship and communion of the church. There is an invitation to be part of the nurturing community of God’s people.

Acts says, “They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

Where the Scripture leaves off, our worship experience moves now.

At this table, where we renew our covenant with God, dreams become real. Grief gives way to hope. Weariness is replaced by new energy. Our “chief end” and purpose for living once again becomes clear. Fears melt away. And the One who was dead rises to meet us.

And we discover yet again at this table the persistent power of praise. As another psalm (30:5) puts it:

And with that joy comes desire … Desire to glorify God, and enjoy God … in tough times … and forever.