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Gods Lullaby

May 14, 2006

Text: Psalm 42

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, "Where is your God?"

These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

My soul is cast down within me…All your waves and your billows have gone over me. By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.

I say to God, my rock, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?" As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, "Where is your God?"

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

NRSV 

      Congregational question, to mothers: What’s a favorite song that you sing, or used to sing, to your children before bed?

      Most beautiful sound I know is hearing from outside five year old Emma’s door, my wife singing softly a bedside song, “We are one in the Spirit…”

      Why do children like a song before bed?

      I once asked a little boy I know very well, “Why do you like to hear a song before you go to sleep?” He replied, “I like to hear your voice, Daddy.”

      Maybe, indeed, it’s not the songs we sing they like as much as the sound of our voice. It’s a voice that’s not saying, “Stop dipping the dog’s tail in your pudding.” “Stop putting peanut butter sandwiches in the DVD player.” “Stop eating the candy, getting toys out…STOP!”

      Rather, when the voice sings a lullaby, the child simply hears mommy or daddy.

      Not the corrector, not the punisher, not the teacher—just mommy or daddy. The one who provides. Protects. Loves unconditionally. Is willing to lay down her/his life for the sake of the child. Maybe the voice recalls to the child the earliest memories of mommy or daddy—the one who stayed up all night rocking them when an ear infection wouldn’t let the child sleep; the memory of cradling the child during a doctor’s visit and vaccination; the memory of holding hands with the child while walking her/him to school that first day. The memory of birthday parties and cakes and gifts—all saying, “You’re special—I love you.”

      No, I don’t think it’s the words of the song that matter. My children always say, “Sing whatever.” It’s the not song—it’s the voice of the one singing the song.

      You know, a child really needs to remember the sound of a mommy or daddy’s voice.

      Because other voices grow louder as the child grows older.

      Think of what the child will hear.

      “Hey, kid, everybody’s doing it—it won’t hurt you—come on, you scared?”

      “You didn’t make the grade. You can’t get admitted to that school.”

      “There were applicants better qualified than you for this position.”

      “Better luck next time when you get engaged.”

      “Sales have been down, so we’re going to have to let people go.”

      “I don’t love you any more. I want a divorce.”

      How awful it feels to lose the warmth of childhood. How awful it feels to hear these voices instead of the voice of a parent who loves you and believes in you and looks out for you. How awful it feels that there’s no one to turn to.

      How awful to spend sleepless nights, tossing and turning.

      Oh, you used to sleep “like a baby.” After hours of play and exploration, your tired little body would be embraced by that soft bed and the warm covers. Within a minute of hearing Mom or Dad’s song, you’d drift off to dreamland. Your dreams would be that of dogs and cats and friends and play.

      But you’ve grown up. And the older you get, the less you sleep.

      On some nights the voice of Mommy and Daddy are replaced by the words of worry. Words that jab at you. You keep replaying painful things that happened that day. You look ahead to tomorrow with fear.

      After a while, you go to Walgreen’s. You get Tylenol PM. But even the sleep you get from that is still shallow and fitful.

      The old Hebrew song writer can relate to this experience of growing up, of

      When you hear his words in Psalm 42, he sounds confused. His song is disjointed, bouncing back and forth between hope and despair. The two most poignant verses are these:

      My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, "Where is your God?"

      I say to God, my rock, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?"

      Gone is the sweet innocence of childhood. Gone is the simple assurance that came from Daddy’s strong hug, or Mommy’s tender caress. Gone is the warmth.

      Instead, there’s the cold reality of the hard, harsh world. In place of Mommy and Daddy are the ones who treat you indifferently. People who don’t care for you, or your feelings. People who even taunt you. “Look where your ‘faith’ has led you. I don’t want any part of a God like yours. Where is your God, after all? The God you’ve relied on. The God you’ve bragged about. He’s forgotten you, if He existed at all.”

      You can imagine the old Hebrew tossing and turning on his mat, trying to sleep but can’t.

      It’s a cool night in Palestine. The stars are shining brightly in a clear sky. The moon’s soft light shines through a window. It would have been a PERFECT night to sleep. Except for the fact that he is not a child anymore. He’s a man who feels like he’s seen more than his share of pain and abandonment.

      But then, something happens. As he rolls around, fighting the voices of his enemies, his mind briefly relaxes. And in that pause—in that quietness—he hears a song. A song that seems to come out of nowhere. It’s a hymn his congregation would sing. He hears the strong men’s voices, and the beautiful responses from the women. And those voices blend together to form an unmistakable, unshakable voice: the voice of God.

      He writes,

      At night God’s song is with me!

      “I hear Him speaking to me! My creator! The One who fashioned me in my mother’s womb! The One who breathed the breath of life into my nostrils! The One who’s blessed me with life itself! He has not abandoned me! My mother and father—they have gone the way of all flesh. But the voice I hear now comes from a parent who loves me with a love that only grows stronger.”

      And hearing God’s lullaby, his body relaxes, and his breathing becomes long and deep. The words sung within his heart bring him that same warm feeling he had as a kid, when he heard mom or dad. He drifts off to sleep without hesitation.

      Wouldn’t it be nice, on Mother’s Day, to be that kid again? To drift off to sleep tonight, hearing God’s “lullaby”?

      Well, let me suggest two things you can do that may help you hear God’s night-song.

FIRST—REMEMBER:

      Remember, if you can, the song a mom or dad or another relative sang you. Hear the song falling upon your ear again, in the stillness of the night.

Remember not just the words, but the voice that sang them.

      Now, I know we live in an imperfect world, and there is no perfect mom or dad, no perfect relative. Sometimes childhood can be difficult. But if you can, remember what it was like, or what it would have felt like, to drift off to sleep feeling secure, protected, loved. To feel that you would have sweet dreams and the bed bugs wouldn’t bite, and that you would wake up to a sunny day, promising adventure and play.

      Tonight, feel those feelings again. They’re a special privilege of being a child—to trust sweetly in the love and care of another, without question. Let your heart be touched by the warmth again, and by the joy and hope that a familiar, loving voice brings. And in feeling those feelings again, you might feel a little extra water in your eyes.

      REMEMBER.

      Then,

SECOND—IMAGINE.

      Imagine that though your parents may not be here to sing you those songs any more…THERE IS ONE PARENT WHO STILL SINGS YOU A LULLABY!

      In God the Father’s eyes, you’re not a “grown up.” You’re not a teacher, lawyer, doctor, employee, manager, business owner. You’re not a parent, grand parent, uncle or aunt. You’re not AARP-membered, senior-citizen labeled, or medicare enabled.

      In God the Father’s eyes, you’re still that child who goes to bed troubled at night—worried, fearful. You’re the young one who is scared of monsters under the bed or in the closet. Monsters like: Unemployment. Divorce. Disease. Depression. Death. Violence. Loneliness. Helplessness. Hopelessness.

      Imagine God singing to you a lullaby, to slow the frantic beating of your heart, to dry the tears about to spill over your eyelids, to let you know everything WILL be all right.

      What would that lullaby sound like?

      I remember a lullaby. As a teenager I’d attend Sunday evening “vesper” services at 1^st UMC in Poplar Bluff. There I was exposed to some of the great old hymns of faith. There was one that especially stayed with me.

      I took that hymn to college. And when I was left alone on that campus, after Mom and Dad drove away in their 1967 Dodge Monaco…And when I was walking up the steps of T. Berry Smith Hall to take a two hour final exam…And when I was dealing with girlfriend problems. When those times happened: a verse of that hymn would bubble up from my heart, and dance on my lips: “Oh fear not I’m with thee, O be not dismayed, for I am thy God, and will still give thee aid: I’ll strengthen thee, comfort, and help thee to stand, upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.”

      What a peace I felt, singing that “lullaby.” My problems didn’t magically go away, of course. But I knew in my heart that I had a Parent with me, who didn’t go away either!

      To this day, facing a tough situation, I’ll sing verses of that lullaby our Father sings. And when the night terrors creep in, I’ll hear: “The soul that on Jesus still leans for repose, I’ll never, no never, desert to its foes. That soul though all hell should endeavor to shake—I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.”

      That’s my favorite lullaby.

      What’s yours?

      Is it this one?

      [A Mighty Fortress]

      What about this one?

      [Be Still My Soul]

      Or this one?

      [Dear Lord and Father of Mankind]—“Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease—take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess, the beauty of thy peace.”

      What lullaby does God sing to you? Imagine. It might be a hymn. Or it might be a song yet to be written—words forming in your heart as you are quiet with yourself.

      You might not know all the words of the lullaby perfectly. But you’ll recognize the voice. For NOTHING will stop the One who yearns to kneel by your bedside and sing you a night-song.

      Tonight, when you are alone and the world is still: REMEMBER how it was to be embraced by a comforting voice of understanding, of hope, of love.

      Then IMAGINE the lullaby God sings to you.

      It might even be a song…like this one.

      [Congregation sings, “I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry”]