Lenten Reflections: Seven Reimagined Psalms from the Darkling Psalter
As the season of Lent begins today, we offer you these seven reimagined Psalms from the Darkling Psalter, Andy Patton’s project to make creative, poetic renditions of all 150 Psalms.
Use these psalms to give shape to your thoughts and voice to your prayers as you reflect on the meaning of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection as we await the celebration of Easter.
Psalm 5—I never thought my hope would fail, but I have watched it wear to a nub.
Lord, hear me out. My hope is barely a whisper. I have only a sigh for prayer; A Godflung gossamer breath That flashes in the sun like spider silk And is gone. I can tell I am not who I used to be, But this morning I rally all The help I can ask for. I never thought my hope would fail But I have watched it wear to a nub. Now, I arrange all my needs in a row. I raise my voice when there are words And raise a song when there are not. Hear me, Lord. Watch. Remember. Evil gives you no pleasure. No stain mars your beauty. Nothing boastful can stand Before you and beat its chest. Yet here I am, broken and bent; Scattered, trussed, and tumbling. I feared all the wrong things. I have chased what you hate And called it good. There is more than blood on my hands, And two lies for every truth on my lips. I’ve been a harlot to the mirror’s glances, A long and weary marionette. Yet, I draw near to your house. I bow at the threshold of your temple. Your goodness cascades over me. There is no end of it, but addition. I didn’t know it would be like this. I spent so long trying To earn a kindness That was already mine; Afraid I would never find a grace That I could not lose. Lord, make my path straight before me. Lead me in your way. I have come this far, But I am harried by so many things That would eat me alive. I can’t seem to shake them. They entice me with words As wide as open graves. I know I will find only trouble; I know their lies are ghost lights, But I still want to follow. End this, Lord. Collapse This down around our ears. Scatter the rabble dogging me And teach me to say yes To what is good. If I ever needed a refuge, It is now. Shelter me. Hear my prayer. Gather me in That everyone you love Could be here to one place, Could lift our heads and laugh And raise a strong song. You bless all the lost Who take refuge in you. Truly, you are a shelter and a shield. There is no other.
Psalm 10—Haven't you heard our cries and watched the ones you swore to shelter snatched away?
God, why are you hiding? Why are you far away? I look around myself And not a trace of you remains. The wicked run down the poor Like wild things. They howl After their every desire. They curse God and fall on their prey. They know only victory. They strut and preen, and nothing checks them. They give God not a passing thought. Their mouths only know to curse And swallow down. Their fingers Only take and take and take. The ruin that might save them On occasion calls, But they bat it away, bold as they can. They cast about for little kills And strike from hiding like Feral mousers playing lions, As though God hadn’t eyes to see, Or a heart that kept the count, Or a stone table where the smoke rises From their burning days. God, who can hold you back? Do not levee your judgment. Let your reckoning run. Tumble them in the flood. Haven’t you seen all this? Haven't you heard our cries And watched the ones you swore To shelter snatched away? We have no help but you. We were stalked through All of yesterday’s years, Hoping in you. We’ve seen things That shouldn’t have happened, That we don’t dare whisper Even behind our eyes. Yet, you are king. You topple nations at a stroke. There is not a single Passing prayer you miss. How long will we have to wait? No matter the answer, Strengthen us, comfort us. Ease this terror.
Psalm 12—Our shepherd neither sleeps nor slumbers.
The good are gone, Lord. The faithful who carry The candle of your name Have fled. I looked for them And found only smoke rising. Everyone left lies; They flatter their fellows Only to devour them like wolves. They scheme and bite And trumpet the very things That should make them mourn And change their lives. Save us. O God of words, Silence the tongues That wag before you, As though the world before our eyes Were the only world. “I have seen the poor plundered,” Says the Lord. “I have heard The groans beyond words. I know the grief that bends you double. I have felt the lash And rack of the wicked. So now I will bring the broken home, And place them in the shelter They long for.” These are the words of the Lord. There is no dross in them, Only holy silver. Lord, your remnant is not lost. Though the wolves bound around us Like wind whipping the edges of the flock, We are not afraid. Our shepherd neither sleeps nor slumbers.
Psalm 14—At night, they grind panicseed between dull teeth and wake gasping, thinking they have heard a voice.
Every fool knows God is gone, So they give themselves to things They can’t come back from; Feed themselves on limelight; Live by the hope of moving on. Like everyone who has sold themselves, They insist it was worth it. The Lord looks down to see If anyone has yet let Goodness creep up on them, Yet felt sorrow set Stripes in their repentance, But he sees knurled knuckle hearts, Hearts that snarl, hearts far gone. Not even one is ready to do good. They tell themselves they’ve tallied God— Totted up his promises, but none solved, None stacked against his wrongs; All yielded impossible sums Only a fool would count on. None call upon the Lord, but Rather would eat God’s people As one devours an oyster. They would pry open our inner parts And swallow us down with sauces. They laugh at jokes that aren’t there, And hollow themselves like bird bones. At night, they grind panicseed Between dull teeth and wake gasping, Thinking they have heard a voice. But God is a falcon. God has claws on. His silence is a hunting hawk. His wing shadow passes over The weak, marks them. His nearness is their refuge. His dread dives all down wilder. His love is with them, prowling wider. Oh, that salvation would find us, Fall on us, hem us in, Scatter back this rabble, And make us glad again.
Psalm 25—Sweet singer, there is always more of your kindness than I thought was left.
All autumn long and all alone, I trod a path through the woods While I prayed and fretted and watched The leaves go bright as pennies. Behind me walked ghost years I thought I’d shaken. Teach me the steps. I know There is a difference between Seeing the way and walking it, But my trust is loss-hearted and heavy. Put it through its unresting, Unhasting paces. Lord, do not remember the sins of my youth. Forget the years I mistook my fears for virtues. Forget my empty renunciations. Remember me through your lasting love. Imagine me through your mercy. I stood a season-long watch In the draughty chapel, listening For your voice between breaths of bellsong. I went wrong at long turns and saw it too late. Will you ravel me back and piece me together? Or is the friendship of the Lord Nearness as I come apart? Show me what there is to know In the way I need to know it. Sweet singer, there is always more Of your kindness than I thought was left. Pardon me. I have longed for peace But never learned it. My days are harried, scraped bare, Blurred from bed to bed, And chased with a short, beaten sleep. Turn to me and be gracious. I found a trouble larger than I am. I can stretch my hands and touch Both walls of my hope, So small a cell it is. Inside, I worry at the promises of the Almighty As a dog worries a bone. Show me the way of peace And I will walk it. Hold my careworn, threadbare heart completely still. Guard me. Deliver me. Show me the snowdrops Crowded in the dooryard When winter comes.
Psalm 27—Where things are barren, but he is near.
The Lord is my light in dark And my salvation in danger. What other force should make me fear? The Lord is my shelter. How could dread ever dog me? What fear could ever reave me? Who could harrow me and hem me in? When my enemies teemed Snapping and gnashing at me, They staggered and fell and were swept away. Even if an army encamps around me; Even if I am encircled with stratagems; Even if war rises like a tide around me, First to my knees, then to my waist, Then surging over me To sweep my loves away, I will not fear. I have asked one thing from the Lord, A request that waits beneath My heart’s hardest hopes: That I might dwell in the house of the Lord. I want to see his face; To feel his delight; to learn his ways. When the day of trouble Finds me and misery calls, He will hide me, wrap me, tuck me away. He will lead me into the wilderness Where things are barren, but he is near, Where he can whisper How it is and was and will be. He will take me to a rock, To high and holy ground, And I will remove my shoes and pray. I will remember how long I was lost And how hard it is to come back. I will sing, yes, and beat my chest because joy has found me. So hear me when I cry, Lord, And be gracious to me. Answer me because I am smaller Than I ever thought I was. When you said to seek your face, My heart said Yes Though I barely knew the way. Do not hide from me. Turn toward me, fly to me. Be my help again as you have been. You are my last salvation; If you forsake me, what is left? Even if my father and mother leave me, You will gather me in. Teach me your way; I am here to learn. Lead me on a level path; I want to walk with you.
Psalm 30—No night tears can stop the birds and bells of dawn singing every morning.
I ran scared for a long time, Wanting to be safer than I was. I made narrow escapes but couldn’t Quite shake what hounded me. I cried for help, for healing, For answers, for anything. You heard me. You gave me My life back. You hid me In a quiet place only because I asked— But it was years before I could see it. People of God, if the Lord has been your help, Raise up whatever song you have. He is a whirlwind and a harrow But you can’t shake him. His love lasts the night and all life long. He knows how to wait; Take as long as you need. No night tears can stop the birds And bells of dawn singing every morning. Like fireseed, sorrow tills the soil Where supple flowers grow. When I prospered, I promised myself That I would always prosper, That I would never slip. I grew bright on limelight. My life was mirrors, and everything Mimicked my gestures but never touched. I scooped laughter into my lap And every hope came by the handful. But it was all hung on the braided Thread of your favor. My promises Came to nothing when you hid your face. The faith I thought was anvils Was only a sly season That let half truths gather, And stagger around in masquerade. You lifted the mask away, And I was dismayed. Your hammer fell and the brittle charade Shattered to bright bits. Lord, have mercy. We both know I was battered, barely Able to drag grief-riddled prayers Across your threshold, And I am not out of my straits yet. What good is my life If it becomes no different than death? Was I not scared enough already? Do the dead praise you? Do they tell stories to one another Of your faithfulness as they lie Side by side in the dust? Show me your smile and this cathedral Chest will breathe again, will sing. Make me rise and walk, And these stumbling feet will tap out a tattoo, Even sketch the steps of a silly dance. End the sackcloth season and give Me gladness back in double draughts. When the dirge days end, When I am safe again, I will not be silent. My life will be my thanks forever.
Andy Patton is the creator of the Darkling Psalter, a collection of creative renditions of the Psalms paired with new poems. He holds an M.A. in theology from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. He works for the Rabbit Room and is a former staff member at L'Abri Fellowship in England.
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