Cooper was five years old when it happened. He was a happy kid. He captivated everyone he met. He won the hearts of everyone he met. Their family was very loving and supportive of one another. Cooper had three sisters. They all loved God. They lived on a farm. They enjoyed being together. Cooper and his dad, JJ, had a bit of free time one day. So they decided to take a spin down a dirt road in a roll cage cart. They had done it many times before. As they spun around, something different happened. It flipped over. Panic, pain, dread. Cooper was unresponsive. JJ called 911. “There has been an accident. I don’t think Cooper is going to make it.” The ambulance came. They went to the hospital. They did everything they could. Then the news came. Little 5-year-old Cooper had gone to heaven. Tears. Pain. Unbelief. Shock. Everything was now different. JJ, the father, said: “There is no class or book on this planet that can prepare you to have your five-year-old son die in your arms… We know what the bottom looks like.” When he had to break the news to his oldest daughter, who was young Cooper’s sister, he prepared her by saying, “I need you to hold on to everything you know of who God is, because I have some really tough news to tell you.” (Lucado, You’ll Get Through This, 23ff.) We’re in a teaching series about the most famous psalms. Today we arrive at Psalm 88. Different psalms are known for different things. This psalm is known for crying out to God in the depths of despair and disappointment. A lot of psalms cry out to God in distress, but they end with a note of hope or praise. Not so with Psalm 88. Here are the closing words from verse 18: “You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness.” When you think that your only friends are darkness, you are clearly going through something horrible. Bible scholar NT Wright says that psalm 88 is “the darkest poem in the whole book [of psalms]” That’s something else we should note. The psalm writer (whom we will learn is a person named Heman), cries out to God but presents God as the one who is against him. The source of his help is also the source of his hurt—or so he seems to suggest. All of this is why Psalm 88 is often read during times of intense stress, despair and disappointment. The reason is because it gives a voice to how we feel during those times. The Bible is not a happy-go-lucky book where everything is always happy and cheery. It describes life very vividly, both the highest highs and the lowest lows. It tells us about reality, even painful realities of when we feel abandonment and disappointment, and what faith is like during those challenging experiences. This psalm is a reminder that bad things do happen to good people. We can fall victim to the thinking that, ‘If I just believe in God he will protect me from all physical or mental and emotional pain.’ Not so. Life is hard. And it is hard also for God’s people. Life is better with God; it is meaningful and purposeful and hopeful and powerful—but it is also often painful. In his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, Tim Keller describes how suffering bothers us greatly in these modern times because we are not accustomed to it—well, certainly not as much as our ancestors. He writes: “today we are more shocked and undone by suffering than were our ancestors. In mediaeval Europe approximately one in every five infants died before their first birthday, and only half of all children survived to the age of ten. The average family buried half of their children when they were still little, and the children died at home, not sheltered away from eyes and hearts. Life for our ancestors was filled with far more suffering than ours is. And yet we have innumerable diaries, journals, and historical documents that reveal how they took that hardship and grief in far better stride than we do. One scholar of ancient European history observed how unnerving it is for modern readers to see how much more unafraid people fifteen hundred years ago were in the face of loss, violence, suffering, and death. Another said that while we are taken aback by the cruelty we see in our ancestors, they would, if they could see us, be equally shocked by our “softness, worldliness, and timidity.”” (15-16) I include this not to minimize our pain, but to emphasize the fact that pain has always been a part of life, and also that there are ways to navigate it. Today we have modern medicine and more comforts than any previous period of human history. Perhaps we need some retraining about facing hardship. As we go through the psalm I invite us to think about those times when we feel like God has let us down. Have you ever felt like God has let you down? Perhaps when he seemed silent in response to a desperate or urgent prayer? Perhaps when someone you love died, perhaps when you wanted a baby but it just didn’t happen, perhaps when your friends left you, perhaps when you faced economic collapse, perhaps when you were personally attacked, perhaps when you wrestled with illness, perhaps when you had a family crisis, perhaps when you experienced a certain anxiety… What are we to do when we feel like God—who is supposed to be good and almighty and loving—has let us down? Let’s begin with the subtitle: A Song. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah. To the choirmaster: according to Mahalath Leannoth. A Maskil of Heman the Ezrahite. In addition to being told that this is a psalm “of the Sons of Korah” (who were from the tribe of Levi and had certain responsibilities to lead worship and music), we are given a more specific name: Heman the Ezrahite. What do we know about him? He is a musician and psalm-writer, obviously. But he is also named in 1 Kings 4:31 as a wise person in the time of David and Solomon. 88 O Lord, God of my salvation,
    I cry out day and night before you. Right off the top we learn that this is a prayer. Heman is talking to God and uses the personal name, Yahweh (translated in our English bibles as “LORD” in all capitals.” He calls upon the God of his salvation. Whatever else he is going to say, it is all framed with that confession of faith. ‘Since you are the God who saves, please reveal that powerful aspect of your character in my current situation!’ It’s as if Heman is reminding God about who he is. William Gurnal certainly took this approach and perspective to prayer. Joel Beeke and Michael Reeves describe it like this: “If Christians would be effective, they must show God His own handwriting in prayer.” (Beeke, Reeves, Following God Fully, 123) That’s really good. In other words, it is helpful in prayer to remind God about his own promises and character. We call out to him for these things because he is our Saviour and Father and Help! Next we learn that he is crying out to God day and night, meaning all the time. He’s not speaking quietly and apathetically—he is ‘crying out’! Clearly, his situation is desperate and urgent. 
2 Let my prayer come before you;
    incline your ear to my cry! 3 For my soul is full of troubles,
    and my life draws near to Sheol.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
    I am a man who has no strength,
5 like one set loose among the dead,
    like the slain that lie in the grave,
like those whom you remember no more,
    for they are cut off from your hand.
6 You have put me in the depths of the pit,
    in the regions dark and deep.
7 Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
    and you overwhelm me with all your waves. Selah These six verses chronicle how Heman is feeling. His soul is full of troubles; his life draws near to Sheol. In the Old Testament writings, Sheol is listed as a kind of shadowy underworld for the dead. His life is so bad that it feels as if he is on the very brink of death. He has no strength, like a dead person. He feels as if God has cut him off. Think of God as the very source of life and vitality and joy, like a great flowing river but which has now been dammed up. In verse 7, Heman says that God’s wrath lies heavy upon him and is overwhelmed with God’s waves. The idea of ‘waves’ conjures more of the shadowy underworld, and also of the perils of drowning. Again note in verse 7 (as mentioned earlier) that Heman sees himself as being attacked not by a personal enemy or even an army, but by God himself. 8 You have caused my companions to shun me;
    you have made me a horror[b] to them.
I am shut in so that I cannot escape;
9     my eye grows dim through sorrow.
Every day I call upon you, O Lord;
    I spread out my hands to you.
10 Do you work wonders for the dead?
    Do the departed rise up to praise you? Selah 11 Is your steadfast love declared in the grave,
    or your faithfulness in Abaddon?
12 Are your wonders known in the darkness,
    or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness? Beginning at verse 8 we learn more about Heman’s troubles. He feels as if God has made his companions to turn from him. The ever-inspirational Helen Keller once said that “Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.” That’s a powerful truth; having a good friend in hard times is even better than being alone when things are fine. But Heman is saying that in his own hard times, his own darkness, even then he is alone. There are no friends to provide relief or support. In verse 9 he tells God that his eyes grow dim with sorrow. What does that mean? Let’s look at a few other translations. The NIV says: “my eyes are dim with grief.” The NET says: “My eyes grow weak because of oppression.” The CSB says: “My eyes are worn out from crying.” The Geneva says: “Mine eye is sorowfull through mine affliction” I get this. When I’m weary, my eyes don’t work as well. Plus, grief is exhausting. Have you ever wondered why when a loved one dies and you’re dealing the funeral arrangements and talking to people and processing everything that is happening in your own mind and heart why you feel so tired all the time and could literally take a nap three times a day? It’s because grief is exhausting. I get the sense here that this is what Heman is experiencing. In verse 9 he says he spreads out his hands to God. This is a posture of prayer. He is indicating his need and receptivity. In verse 10 to 12 he puts forward four questions in six phrases: Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise you? Is your steadfast love declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon? Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness? The sense here is that someone’s life is of no earthly use to God after they are gone, so why won’t God help Heman in the here and now so he can serve him better? Also, since the departed can no longer praise God while on earth, why not help Heman so he can do it? Otherwise, he’ll be useless to God in the cold earth. The reference to Abaddon in verse 11 might be another name for Sheol. Literally, it means ‘destruction.’
 13 But I, O Lord, cry to you;
    in the morning my prayer comes before you.
14 O Lord, why do you cast my soul away?
    Why do you hide your face from me?
15 Afflicted and close to death from my youth up,
    I suffer your terrors; I am helpless.[c]
16 Your wrath has swept over me;
    your dreadful assaults destroy me.
17 They surround me like a flood all day long;
    they close in on me together.
18 You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me;
    my companions have become darkness.[d] Starting at verse 13, Heman renews his cry to God, and says that he does so in the morning. Notice how in the midst of his affliction, he doesn’t stop praying. He also doesn’t stop complaining. I don’t say that in a negative way; he is simply being open and honest with God. He’s not complaining to God because his new Nikes got a smudge on the playground—he is dealing with real and ongoing adversity, and he needs to call upon his God who is the only one who can provide real help. His soul is cast away. He feels as if God has hidden his face from him. This is a way of speaking which means that God has turned away his favour. Imagine a friend turning their back on you, or even a parent—that’s the sense here. In verse 15 we learn that Heman has been experiencing affliction and has been close to death since youth. Wow, that is difficult. Some people experience intense struggles—existential or physical—for much of their earthly life. Verse 18 includes a second reference to being alone and separated from friends and companions. The phrase ‘my beloved’ is used. This may be a lover of some kind, or it could simply be a very close friend. Either way, intense aloneness is what is being emphasized. The very last line is the one most people think of when they consider Psalm 88: “my companions have become darkness.” The NIV translation, which is the translation most people use in the English-speaking world, has: “darkness is my closest friend.” Hebrew linguist Robert Alter translates that phrase like this: “My friends—utter darkness” (Alter). This might mean that his friends behave like darkness (meaning they bring no light into the relationship at all), or that darkness itself is his friend. Either way, both options are despairing! As I mentioned earlier, only this psalm ends on this low of a low note. There is no final declaration that all things will turn out well, or that God should be praised, or that the wicked will pay in the end. It just ends. There. This is the word of the Lord. All: Thanks be to God. So, where do we go from here? To be honest, the person who this most seems to describe in certain places, at least with respect to anguish and abandonment, is Jesus. Leading up to the cross, and then on the cross, he was suffered many horrors on our behalf. It also reminds us of Job from the Old Testament, doesn’t it? But thinking more directly of ourselves, let me underscore a helpful perspective from a pastor named Charles Crabtree: “never put a period where God puts a comma” (cf. Mark Batterson, The Grave Robber, 243). His point is this. When we are feeling disappointed or dejected or despairing, we are tempted to think that is it. That God isn’t close. That God isn’t going to help. Or that, perhaps, he isn’t real. But that is putting a period (meaning: a sense of finality) where God doesn’t. Let me give some examples. I am in pain, period. But the period is premature. Let’s try it again. I am in pain, but this pain won’t last. The comma replaces the period meaning that what we see isn’t all there is to see. Here’s another example. I feel alone, period. But the period is premature. Let’s try it again. I feel alone, but my feelings can’t always be trusted because God is sustaining me. The comma replaces the period meaning that what we see isn’t all there is to see. Don’t put a period where God puts a comma. Let’s look at how this is evident in Psalm 88. First, stay brutally honest before God in prayer Heman seems to be disconnected from God. But he isn’t. Something is happening which is so obvious that we almost miss it. The entire psalm is a prayer. He is actively praying to God. He’s connecting with him. He’s calling out to him. George Buttrick once commented that in these situations it feels like we are “beating on Heaven's door with bruised knuckles in the dark.” (Foster, Prayer, 17). But the point is that we are still in fact beating on Heaven’s door. The same is true for you. Keep knocking. Keep praying. This connects you to the only one who can help. Just because you feel disappointed now, doesn’t mean you will feel disappointed always. If you stop talking to God with brutal honesty, and don’t expect him to listen or answer, that means you are putting a period where God is putting a comma. Second, be receptive to the ways your hardship may be making you wiser Why is this connected to Psalm 88? Remember that the author is Heman. As mentioned, we know that he was a wise man from the time of David and Solomon. Let’s not miss that. In verse 15 he says that he has been afflicted since he was young, and yet he still became a man of wisdom. I think there’s something profound going on here. Experiences of hardship can contribute to the wisdom we are able to share with others. How many of us have spoken with someone who has tried to give us advice and help when we were dealing with something. If that person has real life experience which includes a lot of hardship, we are more likely to take what they have to say seriously. Hardship and experience lends credibility to what someone has to say. My sense here is that God used Heman’s hardship to bless others. They could go to him for wisdom because he knew what it meant to rely on God even when life was tough. The same might be true for you. Your experiences of hardship may have some purpose you can’t see. I’m not saying they’re good. I’m not saying that I want them for you. I want things to be nice and healthy for you. But hardship has a way of making people wise. What if your experiences were going to bless someone important to you in the years ahead? If you think that your difficult experiences have nothing to do with your future self and that they are totally useless, you are putting a period where God is putting a comma. Third, trust in a God who saves—even if you have to wait Verse 1 tells us the fundamental truth about this psalm of disappointment. He calls out to the God of his salvation. He still believes. He still trusts—and not just generally, but that his God is able to save and rescue and deliver and help. Pain may be a chapter in your story, but it’s not the defining chapter, and it certainly isn’t the final chapter. In his devotional on the Psalms, Tim Keller writes: “The universe is an endless ocean of God’s joy and glory. We are caught temporarily in a little drop of sadness here on earth. But eventually it will be removed. Regardless of what happens immediately to believers, eventually it will be all right.” (122) Heman will experience the fullness of God’s saving help—soon, or eventually, or ultimately. Ronnie Martin, the pastor of Substance Church is Ashland, Ohio, points out that God tells us to wait and hope 227 times in the Bible. This is certainly what Heman must do from the depths that he is in. The same can be true for us. We need to remember that believing and waiting are closely connected. We don’t know God’s timing, but we trust that he is working even when we can’t see it. Also, we trust the God of our salvation by playing the long game. Pain may be a chapter in your story, but it’s not the defining chapter, and it certainly isn’t the final chapter. If you are in Christ, you will experience the fullness of God’s saving help—soon, or eventually, or ultimately. If you don’t feel as if God is acting now, and that means he isn’t going to help, that is putting a period where God is putting a comma. Fourth, auto-correct your perspective with consistent worship Why is this a part of how Hemen dealt with his own disappointment and despair? Because this very text is a psalm which was made for worship with God’s people. A part of how he dealt with his situation was to encourage other believers to lift their concerns to God—together. When we do that, not only do we come together in support, but we auto-correct our perspective. When we hear the word auto-correct, we usually think of typing something on a computer or smart phone and the system fixes our bad spelling. When we are low, our thinking usually isn’t very clear. Worship corrects that because it re-centres us back on the almightiness and salvation of God through word, prayer and song. If you stick to yourself and neglect God’s word and worship, you are turning from him, and that is putting a period where God is putting a comma. -- I started this message to you by telling you about Cooper, the happy five-year-old boy who died in that buggy accident. Remember how the father, JJ, prepared his oldest daughter before breaking the news to her? “I need you to hold on to everything you know of who God is, because I have some really tough news to tell you.” As we go through our own disappointments and moments of despair, we too need to hold onto everyone we know of who God is. When we don’t feel it, we need to know it—that he is still the God of our salvation. Whenever Cooper’s father JJ tells the story of what happened he says this: “We know what the bottom looks like, and we know who is waiting there—Jesus Christ.” To summarize: First, stay brutally honest before God in prayer Second, be receptive to the ways your hardship may be making you wiser Third, trust in a God who saves—even if you have to wait Fourth, auto-correct your perspective with consistent worship Don’t put a period where God puts a comma. Amen.