“And though I wait the livelong night until the dawn appeared...”
Those are the words of the hymn version of Psalm 130. Waiting is a concept we’re all familiar with lately. Recently, Psalm 130 made me think of some other non-Inspired words of waiting:
It’s been a long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.
That’s a song from my high school days. (Never mind me. I’m just a guy who’s pushing 40. My favorite music will soon be on the oldies station.)
I think of those words here and there when I’ve had a rough season of life, when it’s been a Long December (or March or 2020-that-lingers-into-2021). We all need hope, and we all need to believe that at the very least MAYBE this year will be better than the last. And music is catchy. I’ve listened to that song a few hundred times (and I’m sure the music of your high school days sticks with you, too), and I can still hear the opening piano chords and that one guitar riff that comes in at the end. I can feel the melancholy that slowly turns to hope that ends in triumphant joy. But more than once, I’ve asked myself, “Why does this songwriter think this year will be better than the last? What does he base his hope on?”
Reviewing the lyrics, it’s a simple formula. The songwriter poet is simply dwelling once again on the topic of unrequited love. He loved, and he lost. He starts off talking about her leaving, whoever the nameless woman is.
A few lines later, he’s reflecting on how he wasn’t good enough for her and how winter (a Long December) makes you think about all that just a bit more. And then he’s back to his opening line:
It’s been a long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.
And once again, I ask, Why? Why does he think this year will be better than the last? Why is January going to be better than the long December? The song ends with him saying he’s going to go see the ocean, followed by some Na Na’s and a few Yeah’s, reminiscent of the ending to Hey Jude!
Is the California coast the reason that this year will be better than the last? The California coast ain’t bad, but is it enough to overcome the crud of a Long December? Is it anything more than a beautiful distraction from the writer’s lovesick heartache? Is it really enough to put an end to all of our Long December’s?
Is it a better hope than Psalm 130?
Psalm 130 has its share of melancholy, but it’s not about unrequited love and the one who got away. It’s about the depths of woe and crying out to the savior, begging for him to listen.
“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!” (Psalm 130:1-2)
Maybe he has just sinned, or maybe the memory of his sin plunged him back into the depths of woe once again.
“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.” (Psalm 130:3-4)
And then he talks about the waiting. He’s in the depths, and he’s waiting on God. Not a fun place to be. I’ll shift to Martin Luther’s poetic rewording for a moment:
And though I wait the livelong night, until the dawn appeareth,
my heart still trusteth in his might, it doubteth not nor feareth
Do thus, o ye of Israel’s seed, ye of the Spirit born indeed
And wait til God appeareth.
That’s a bit of an amalgamation of verses 5-8. Another verse in the song treats verse 6 in more detail, but it’s better to look at the Biblical words here, to see where his hope lies.
“My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” (Psalm 130:6)
He’s waiting and hoping for God to show up and bring him out of the depths. And now the image changes from the depths of woe to a night watchman on duty. The coldest, darkest shift for the watchman was the night shift. It was a Long December packed into one night, and with no iPhone or TV to distract him, you can only imagine how long it felt. Waiting for the morning must have felt like eternity.
Why does he use the image of the night watchman, lonely and waiting in the dark? First off, because we’ve all been there even if we aren’t a night watchman. We all know the Dark Night of the Soul, as an old saint once called it. Second, to borrow the words of an old friend: He uses this image because morning always comes. Always! Does it take a while? Sure, but it comes. Every time. And that’s why the Psalmist can wait like a watchman - he knows he will get what he’s waiting for. He knows that he will get God. God will show his face. He will answer the prayer. He will raise this man up out of his depths. With God there is forgiveness, and that hope is so much more certain than the girl who got away deciding to come back or the restorative effects of the California coast, or whatever reason you can find to think that maybe this year will be better than the last.
The livelong night (oh my, is it long!) is ending, and God is about to show His face. With Him is steadfast love. With Him is plentiful redemption. And He will redeem Israel out of all her sin and sorrow. The Long December will end, and this year WILL be better than the last.