Called 4 Jesus

Commentary: Psalms 142
A Maskil of David in the Cave
By TA York

The word maskil is Hebrew for “instruction.” In the biblical context, it refers to divine guidance or a necessary correction to align our lives with God’s standards.

1. I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.

Imagine living in a cave. It is cold, damp, dark, and grueling. In that space, one feels a crushing sense of insecurity, a loss of purpose, and the physical ache of hunger. This was David’s lowest point; he had hit “rock bottom”—no pun intended.

In that darkness, David did the only thing he could: he cried aloud to the Lord. Men, have you ever truly cried? I remember when I thought my eldest son might die. I wept aloud (I also wept quietly, I just cried out) to God, lifting my voice for mercy. Those were tears of desperation, begging for His compassion and healing. I was so broken that I asked God to give me my son’s illness instead. That was my rock bottom.

I learned then that most people must hit the floor before they finally let go and give God total control. King David needed to remember the humility of this prayer later in life when he encountered Bathsheba.

When things are easy and we are satisfied, God often ceases to be our priority.

Consider a person struggling with addiction. As long as they get their daily fix or are enabled by well-meaning family, they feel “satisfied” in their sin. Their “god” is the substance. This leads to a “convenience store” Christianity, where people pick and choose which parts of the Bible to follow while ignoring the rest.

Scripture warns us clearly that a lukewarm or selective faith is dangerous (Revelation 3:16; John 15:4-6; 2Tim 3:5; Eph 5:6-7; Titus 3:10-11). Be assured: if you choose to follow God’s true prescription rather than your own convenience, you will face persecution. I share this from repeated personal experience. Do not close your eyes to the sin around you. Do not separate yourself from Him. Ask people in sin to repent.

2. I pour out before him my complaint; before him I tell my trouble. 3. When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who watch over my way. In the path where I walk people have hidden a snare for me. 4. Look and see, there is no one at my right hand; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.

Like David, we must be quick to seek God’s face. David didn’t sugarcoat his feelings; he poured out his complaints. God wants to see the real you—the person without the mask. He doesn’t need “check-in” prayers like, “Hi God, talk to you tomorrow.” He wants your raw honesty.

Every time I allow myself to be truly vulnerable with God, I experience a shift from frustration to peace. I once flew to Indonesia feeling overwhelmed. I didn’t know the language, and I had no idea how I would even navigate the airport. I prayed, “Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

During a transfer in Singapore, I struck up a conversation with a man who, despite 95% of the population being Muslim at the time, happened to be a theology student. His brother worked at the airport I was heading to. I hadn’t told him my fears, but God answered my silent “complaint” by providing a guide before I even landed.

5. I cry to you, Lord; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.”

Many people accept Christ based on a fleeting “feeling,” but when the emotion fades, they wander away. You must be certain that Jesus is your only refuge—the only Way, Truth, and Life.

In the Old Testament, the Levites received no land as an inheritance because God Himself was their “portion.”

At one point in my life, I lost everything and lived out of a car. In that “cave,” I learned that God is my portion. He eventually replaced what I lost with so much more. How could I not trust Him now?

6. Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me. 7. Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.

The best prayers are often birthed in caves. While desperation can make some people bitter, staying close to God is the only way through. My parents were physically abusive, and as a child, I cried out for a rescue that didn’t seem to come. For years I asked, “What was the point of this suffering? If I’d had normal parents, I would have had a better life.”

That mental anguish took years to heal. Finally, God helped me understand that He calls us His “precious treasure” (Deuteronomy 7). My “abnormal” life was training for my calling. Had I lived a comfortable, easy life, I would have only learned to serve the “unholy trinity”: me, myself, and I.

God knew what He was doing. He set me free from the prisons of bitterness, anger, and worthlessness. Today, my life isn’t perfect, but it is far better than anything I could have built on my own. I am surrounded by brothers and sisters in the church who love and support me.

That is my prayer for you: not that you find “religion,” but that you receive a revelation of Jesus. I want you to find the quiet in the midst of the storm. As the martyr Polycarp said, “I wish I had a hundred lives to give to Christ.”

God bless.