Crying On A Different Tune
Crying On A Different Tune
Crying On A Different Tune
“…to brood on sorrow is to be broken and disheartened, while to see God is to sing on the darkest day.
Once we come to know that our years are of His right hand, there is light everywhere.” (Campbell
Morgan)
The past few months have been painfully and emotionally draining for my family. One bit of bad news
after another unveiled brokenness and suffering in the life of my family and friends. My younger sister
and mother of four little ones was diagnosed with metastasized cancer just a couple of months ago. My
friends lost their baby early in the pregnancy. When we thought we were catching a break, one of my
closest friends passed away from breast cancer. Utter devastation began to settle into my soul. I began
to slowly hunch over under the weight of such heavy news.
In my process of aching and drying tears after tears, I stumbled upon Psalm 77. The Psalm belongs to a
Levite named Asaph, one of David’s three chief musicians and worship leaders at the court. A strikingly
beautiful testimony of a suffering man, Psalm 77 struck me by its powerful counseling verses to hurting
souls like mine. I’ve been amazed at its the literary richness. With a wisdom bestowed only from above,
Asaph captures vividly the complexity of the human pain, raising it up, beyond the boundaries of self,
unto the face of heaven.
You were not in my living-room to see me. If you were, you would have probably either been frightened
or deeply moved. Crawled into the fetal position, I laid silent on my floor. I reached for the phone to
make some efforts to call for prayers and encouragement. My sister’s diagnosis of cancer awoke in my
thoughts and emotions running marathons even as I laid still on the cold floor. Cancer. “How did we get
here?” “What’s next?” “Why her?” The kids walked in on a mom who did not stand tall and in control,
managing the home with sprints in her walks and sparks in her eyes. In my pain, I hid my face away from
them and called on the only One I knew could read my thoughts and heart.
Asaph gets this as he takes us through some pretty uncensored emotional and physical responses to
suffering. The Psalm never reveals what specifically troubles this man, but it explores in raw footage his
detailed responses to the painful life circumstances.
I cry aloud to God, and he will hear me. 2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand
is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. 3 When I remember God, I moan;
when I meditate, my spirit faints. 4 You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak”
(vv.1-4).
The heaviness of his tragedy pulls Asaph on his knees, arms stretched out constantly in prayer, sleepless
nights, weary mind, and troubled heart. He moans, faints, cries out to God. He’s tired, hurt, and caught
in a painful cycle of physical, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion. Pained emotions on the inside become
stronger than any spoken words. “I am so troubled that I cannot speak,” he utters. His spoken cries to
God grow more and more silent until they drown out in muted whimpers under the heavy burden of the
tragedy. Silence is where his strength brings him to.
As I was reading these first verses, I immediately connected with this man’s vivid descriptions. I am
thankful the Scriptures record such realistic passages of living in pain. This man was not concerned with
keeping a social image or trying to hide his brokenness behind some cultural platitudes or distorted
social media updates. He wasn’t exaggerating his pain, nor playing it down. We find him simply there…
openly and sincerely broken. And all I could think about was that I knew exactly how he felt. My physical
body, too, voiced my emotional and spiritual pain in a very corporal language. Just like Asaph, I found
myself on my knees, stretching out my arms and my prayers to my Lord, seeking His presence in this
circumstance. My mind, too exhausted from searching for answers in the Scriptures, produced painful,
unintelligible moanings of unanswered questions. Trying to reconcile God’s character to the present
painful sufferings evoked tears of resignation and a collapse into silence. A long and exhaustive silence.
And yet, though Asaph is emotionally paralyzed by pain, what we witness in the next verses is a
fascinating transition from an outward silencing pain to an inner, spiritual song—the highlight of this
Psalm.
With a grief-stricken body and a silenced throat, Asaph turns to remembering what he calls, “his song in
the night.” Asaph’s song is his personal heritage of faith, a reminder of God’s faithfulness throughout
history and in his own personal life up to this painful point. He resolves to “remember” the song, mind
you, and not to compose one. He claimed this particular song in his heart years ago when he embraced
God as his own Savior and Redeemer. Asaph turns his mind and soul to the Writer of his testimony as an
anchor for his troublesome times. Much like Moses bursts into a universal worship song in Exodus 15 as
a result of God’s mighty deliverance of the Jews from the hand of the Egyptian oppression and the
bondage of slavery.
But why would Asaph—500 years later—sing of a Powerful God, the miracles of the Red Sea, Moses, a
redeemed people, a defeated enemy, a chosen people, all while facing tribulations?
I believe Asaph is able to sing because the Lord reveals himself to us in the first place. The Lord allows us
to know Him by inviting us into a relationship with Him. Perhaps as he begins to hum his song, Asaph
couldn’t help but remember why he has a song in the first place. His train of painful thoughts must have
taken him in the time of Moses, where it all started after all. Asaph would have been able to see past the
miracles, plagues, and power struggles in Exodus, and glance at the real reason for why the bush
burned, the sea split, and the Israelites were delivered. Asaph would have recognized these for what
they were at that time, amazing props, preparing the way for something more intimate and relational,
the beginning of a personable revelation and relationship with a Holy God. When the Lord spoke to
Moses and the bush burned, it was not Moses’ self-image and stuttering that the Lord was concerned
with. Rather, it was in this historically divine conversation that God chose to unveil His name—I AM
WHO I AM—and character by making Himself personable and knowable to a sinful generation. Perhaps
in his rendition of Moses’ song, Asaph claims the very heart of Moses’ words: that the Lord’s song is His
very character, His promises, His miracles, His presence in the midst of troubles and life-threatening
situations, His salvation.
Perhaps this was Asaph’s best way to show that the holiest way to suffer through devastating
circumstances is to hold fast to the character of our God, his mighty power, miraculous deliverance, and
adopting love for us. Asaph chooses to remember God’s personable presence in his night more than the
cold pain of the trials. Asaph resolves to bring to mind the works of his God, resolved to walk not
through his emotions but through God’s faithful work of redemption in his own life, as well as in the life
of his people. His saving anchor is not his own tears and crushed body and soul; not even his asking the
right questions. His steadfast anchor is his own relationship with God his Savior from time past until the
present day.
When the Lord made Himself known to Moses and the Israelites, He also prepared the way for His
ultimate gift to us—His salvific song in Christ, His one and only Son, who will save the people from sin by
dying on the cross. It is to Jesus, this new song of salvation, that we owe our worship and gratitude
because He saved us from the punishment of sin (Isaiah 42:10). Asaph remembered his song in the night
—God’s personal revelation, salvation, and encouragement to sinners—beginning with Moses, all the
way to David, Isaiah and the generations to come. As believers, we share in this new song because Christ
is our communal story of redemption and heritage of faith, a seal of our adoption into God’s family. A
resounding eternal hymn, praising Jesus as the Ultimate and Holy Sacrifice. A missional song, an
international heavenly anthem for the kingdom of God (Revelation 5:12). This new song of Jesus our
Savior incarnated, crucified, and resurrected is la pièce de résistance of the gospel story, no doubt!
What if pain is God’s way of tuning our hearts to singing Christ into our trials? What if the answer to our
stages of grief is not asking the right questions, or even getting the right answers, but rather humming
our song of salvation even when our vocal cords are muted by pain? What if by singing in our night, we
grow stronger in Jesus as we recall our salvation and eternity in Him? What if painful seasons cement
our hearts more intimately into the character and person of Jesus?
I am terribly broken and just as terrible of a singer—I simply can’t carry a tune. I could use a few choir
lessons from Asaph. And who knows, perhaps Moses was just as bad at singing as he was at talking first!
But truth is, heaven is not interested in the next talented and original American Idol to populate the
eternity. The song and verses have already been provided for us in Christ. The music sheet was the
cross, and the musical note is the life of our Christ. His Words are powerful verses of life-changing tunes.
The Bible reassures me I’ll be singing a lot in heaven, joining heavenly choirs and talented angel singers.
In fact, as a Christian, I am invited to sing through my life circumstances because I have been gifted my
own salvation song in Christ. And while I would never stand up to lead a choir, or sing at America’s Got
Talent, Asaph taught me that the best song is sung even when my chords are painful and my words are
silenced—because it’s the gifted rendition of my salvific song in Jesus after all!
Psalm 77 Reflection
Noel McGarrigle, licensed lay minister at All Saints’ Rainford, responds to Psalm 77
Over 1/3 of the Psalms are Psalms of Lament. They echo cries of utter hopelessness and grief to God.
Thus, Psalm 77 is an example from Scripture of God’s people asking Him, “Why?” – why do we suffer?
Why does God not come to our aid when we are faced with adversity? Why did God allow this terrible
thing to happen? – has God neglected His responsibilities in our covenantal relationship with Him? Has
He failed to meet his side of the bargain?
As we try to adapt and live with the terrible scourge of the global pandemic that is the coronavirus, the
Psalms of Lament are needed now, more than ever as we try to make sense of a silent and
indiscriminate killer that pervades our lives. Where is God in all this death and illness? Indeed, how can a
loving God allow such a thing to blight our lives?
But these are questions that most, if not all of us, have asked of God throughout our lives and,
undoubtedly, will continue to ask of Him for as long as we live. Therefore, we must revert the Costly Loss
of Lament, that Walter Brueggemann claims, and use the Psalms of Lament as a means of making sense
of the negative and disruptive blots on our life’s landscape. And in so doing, the goal of the lamentation
Psalms, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer says, is us saying that we can no longer bear the pain and the hurt, asking
God to take it from us and bear it for He alone, can handle it – and this is evidenced through Christ’s
salvific action for us on the Cross.
Through Christ, God is with us in our pain and suffering. And for Christians, this allows to recall the
glorious deed that God has done for us so that we will forever know that God is for us – He’s got our
back!
The Hebrew title of the Psalms also means “hymns” and I have chosen two musical interpretations of
Psalm 77 that have allowed me to reflect upon the Psalm and discern, from varying perspectives, what,
when I read the Psalm, is God saying to me.
In the first musical piece, the vocalist uses the Psalm to process his family’s failed adoption and that of a
friend’s ongoing struggle to successfully adopt.
This is a hauntingly beautiful interpretation of the Psalm, where both the deliberately struck piano keys
and the immediately captivating singing of the vocalist, encapsulates the anguish and the loneliness of
the Psalmist. The song’s melancholic tone continues throughout, where the listener is unable to escape
the loss of the vocalist and indeed, even share and empathise with his grief. But then a musical interlude
is played that just as Luther describes, allows for reflection, which the vocalist duly obliges, resulting in a
sung proclamation of God’s holy ways.
Which, with its musical undertone, transports the listener to the ancient near eastern time of Psalmist.
Slowly gathering pace, the vocalist repeatedly proclaims the wonders and deeds of God before building
to a collection of varying voices and instruments glorifying God, ending in a Hosanna-esque fashion.
From these two musical interpretations, I interpreted my own version of the Psalm to reflect upon my
life with God )Father, Son and Holy Spirit), remembering when He was with me in the past, in the hope
of knowledge of Him, and His ways, in my present and future.
Psalm 77
I call out so loud, in the hope that You can hear me.
So be it!
In my trouble, You will not let my eyes rest,
O God, my God,
So be it!
So be it!
This is about a story of a mother's strength and determination and the never ending Faith in God.
Lorelei Go on losing all 3 sons to liver cancer: It’s painful but the thought that we’ll be together again
gives me strength.
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Lorelei Go talked about how she feels about losing all her three sons to liver cancer.
She said what gives her strength right now is the thought that they will all be together again someday.
Each time I think about where they are now, I just keep in mind that they are happy now and they are
no longer in pain.
It’s painful but time will come and I will be with them again. I’ll just wait for the time when we can all be
together again. And that gives me strength.
Rowden Go, the eldest of the 3 brothers who passed away on August 2,2014, 9 hours after his wedding.
The wedding that was televised nationwide and brought tears to our eyes.
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Pahar Pangcoga, popularly known as Hasset Go or Chef Hasset was a Filipino celebrity chef and
entrepreneur. He appeared in several television shows and gained prominence nationwide. He passed
away on October 24,2015.
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Hisham, the youngest among the Go brothers, passed away on November 14 at the age of 27. His death
was announced by the administrator of his Facebook page.