Psalm 88

The psalm is addressed to the Sons of Korah, but attributed to Heman, son of Zerah, son of Judah by Tamar his daughter-in-law (1 Chronicles 2:3-6). That’s a mouthful and it requires you remember the sad stories of Judah’s sin regarding Tamar (Genesis 38). As such, this represents truly ancient wisdom, as Solomon is compared against the legendary wisdom of this psalmist (1 Kings 4:31) among others.

The Ancient Near Eastern wise men were not witch doctors, but their brand of deep wisdom is surely different from anything commonly found in Western society. Genuine Hebrew mystical awareness recognizes multiple levels of moral consideration in our human existence. This psalm is a contemplation; it is not meant to assert answers but to ask wise questions. It serves to indicate territory for exploration. What you find is between you and God. The contemplation covers only one of the many levels for moral consideration. If you take the language literally, you would conclude these are ignorant savages who don’t really know God. You would also miss the point completely, because from such is the source of our knowledge of God. To these Hebrew wise men He revealed Himself most clearly, so we best guard against the folly of literalism when reading Hebrew mystical poetry.

If we are to conquer our human frailties by faith, we must first explore those weaknesses. There are plenty of songs that celebrate the victory of faith; this one delves into the human experience of depression, the place you have to visit before you can meet God face to face. It is Job without the errors. It is the deepest, darkest sorrow and shows that our Creator understands how it feels and offers no condemnation for those who confront their valleys of death. If you need an answer, it’s hidden in the call on God. That in itself is victory, but this psalm has no happy ending because it addresses itself to human nature, not divine redemption.

Heman begins in the right place, calling out to God. If there is any bright spot in this vale of sorrow, it is the shining light of God’s revelation of redemption. So he calls on God to hear this outpouring of sorrow over his own weakness. Instead of bluntly confessing his sin, he is more artful in simply acknowledging that he is as good as dead. Nothing here pretends that he deserves any better, only that it’s something he could never survive on his own.

Indeed, he emphasizes what it’s like to see death as a near neighbor. This is the death of someone who has not yet found the assurance of salvation. This is a very common dramatic figure of speech based on a whole range of literary symbols that arose far back in ancient Mesopotamia. And while those far ancient folk might have actually believed some of this more literally, it takes its place in Hebrew poetry as a familiar expression, a mere image of death while still in sin. Heman echoes more than once the image of having no friends, because in genuine depression you are unable to see beyond your own sorrow and imagine that anyone else knows what it’s like. Instead, death is closer than any human friend, and death is no friend.

Thus, he makes it sound as if death is not welcome at all. If someone dies in their sin, they have lost that one last chance to engage even the mere ritual of praise and worship. Once into the shadows of death, the miracles of God mean nothing to those who failed to find mercy. The soul’s doom is sealed. Again, nothing here is intended as literal, but as imagery of the sorrow of dying without a vivid connection of the heart to God.

So Heman continues his weeping, crying and calling out for redemption from God. He expresses lavishly how it seems to a man under conviction for his sinful fallen nature. This is the moment of walking into that Flaming Sword to the East of Eden. Will it carve off his sin, or will he be consumed fully? The psalm ends without a resolution for the simple reason that, unless the Lord redeem you in His mercy, there’s nothing left to say.