Psalm 6 depicts the psalmist in personal conversation with God, expressing pain and requesting assistance.
We might imagine a moment when we’re feeling sad and afraid, as at our most abject, and when we are sufficiently brave to have a conversation with a friend we trust. The psalmist admits his inadequacy; he talks to God about how much he’s hurting and hopes for relief.
At the beginning, the psalmist asks God not to be angry but to understand his troubles. He’s feeling weak, and he acknowledges weakness, and asks God for healing.
Throughout the psalm, the psalmist’s emotions are evident. He’s troubled and tired, wondering how long his suffering will continue. There is, crucially, an entire emotional as intellectual self-revelation in prayer and openness to God. There is honesty – honesty in prayer absolute.
The psalmist asks God to rescue him and save him because of God’s kindness. Almost, and so humanly, the psalmist offers a bargain with God, suggesting the thought that once he’s gone, he won’t be able to thank and praise God anymore.
The psalmist tells God that his nights are filled with tears. His bed is soaked with tears of sadness.
His eyes are tired from crying, he is emotionally exhausted, and he feels worn out because of enemies who are causing him such pain.
Through prayer, things start to change. With prayer, the psalmist becomes more sure of himself. He says that God has heard his cries and will listen to his prayers.
Towards the end, he wishes for his enemies to feel ashamed and to experience the discomfort they’ve caused – in a sense praying for his enemies’ self-recognition of themselves before God.
The psalmist turns to God for comfort, and his prayers are heard.
Psalm 6 | King James Audio Bible KJV
O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.
Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak:
O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed.
My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord, how long?
Return, O Lord, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies’ sake.
For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?
I am weary with my groaning;
all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.
Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.
Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.
The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.
Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.
Key Themes Of The Psalm For Reflection | Love Revealed
Personal Suffering: The psalmist begins by expressing his deep distress and suffering, providing a glimpse into his emotional turmoil.
Seeking God’s Mercy: Throughout the psalm, the psalmist asks for God’s mercy and healing, acknowledging his own weakness and vulnerability.
Vulnerability and Exhaustion: The psalmist’s emotions range from feeling weak and exhausted to questioning the duration of his suffering.
Desire for Divine Intervention: The psalmist implores God to save him and deliver his soul, seeking God’s intervention to bring relief.
Mortality and Remembrance: The psalmist reflects on the transient nature of life and the importance of offering thanks to God while alive.
Intimate Conversations with God: The psalm captures an intimate dialogue between the psalmist and God, revealing personal struggles and petitions.
Tears and Grief: The psalmist vividly describes his tears and the heaviness of his grief, illustrating the depth of his emotional pain.
Divine Response and Confidence: The psalmist gains confidence in God’s response, believing that God hears his cries and supplications.
Transformation and Resolution: The psalmist shifts from expressing distress to asserting trust in God’s reception of his prayers.
Justice for Enemies: The psalmist concludes by asking for his enemies to be ashamed and experience discomfort, seeking a sense of justice.
Spiritual Trust: Psalm 6 portrays a journey of vulnerability, seeking, and finding solace in a close relationship with God amidst life’s challenges.
Sometimes, when I read my Bible, I pause in the reading and say to myself: ‘This bit’s real.’ It would be fair to say, I have issues with Mary, because, contrary to what we are taught to say, Mary isn’t my mother. Rather: Mum is. One bit of the Bible-text says this: And when his family heard it, they went out to seize him, for people were saying, “He is beside himself.” … And his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside they sent to him and called him. And a crowd was sitting about him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking around on those who sat about him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother.” (Mark 3: 21; 31-35.) Here she comes. She is in considerable distress. I can imagine that. I can relate to that. To save her boy from whatever he’s got himself into this time. And you’re not telling me there isn’t something inside that. Her boy is beside himself. Radical. Radicalized. Radicalizing. A misunderstood word. /ˈradɪk(ə)l/ adjective & noun. 1 Forming the root, basis, or foundation; original, primary. 2a Inherent in the nature of a thing or person; fundamental. b Of action, change, an idea: going to the root or origin; far-reaching, thorough. c Advocating thorough or far-reaching change. d Characterized by departure from tradition; progressive; unorthodox. ‘He has a demon! And he is mad!’ – thus ‘the Jews’. (e.g. John 10: 20.) Come home! It’s all she wants. His family want him back now. But it is an exclusive cult: there is an inside and there is an outside; and on the outside, they are not meant to understand, lest they be converted. He has defined himself as different from anything she was. Only at the end does Jesus say to his Mum – and with savage, bitter irony: ‘Woman, behold your son.’ And then he dies. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. We ask that we might find Mary in our hearts as a Yes! place for Jesus. It is also recommended that we pray to Jesus that we may be further in oneness with Mary. It is self-emptying, such that we only exist insofar as we are responsive to God’s Word. * Last term, and put-out to pasture, the old Archbishop Emeritus came over to stay for a few days and did the odd class with us. He spoke of Yes! as the meaning of Mary’s virginity. And we were not very nice about him. One or two took umbrage. One or two got the hump. In a sense, his Grace, the Arch, basically wanted to move anyone he’d ever known from a high-place – a mountain – received theological ‘truth’ – to an imminent, human plane. Earthing the spiritual. Recalibrating metrics of life’s believability toward a spiritual sense of things. He might have asked the impermissible question: what happened? His Grace described it. God’s love as a cloud. This descended upon Mary – and subsumed her. Within the cloud, Mary capitulated utterly. She became only and purely a response to God’s love. As he spoke, the Arch cradled her. He carried her in his lap – in his hands. His Grace was a consecrated bishop. He was faith. He sat squat, a rounded man, hands cupped and ankles crossed, fingers interlocked, with parted thighs. Rumpled, washed, speckled. A lifetime’s skin… There could be no doubt His Grace spoke through long-term personal relationship with Mary. It was Julian went for him: ‘So are you saying Mary was a Virgin? Or are you not saying Mary was a Virgin?’ Nasty. No, it wasn’t pretty. Julian twisting his silver ring. For a moment, what Julian had said to the Arch simply failed to communicate. No, for a moment, that dumped on the air meant nothing. Then His Grace said: ‘There is a range of possible meanings we may understand in the question of Mary’s virginity. For example, there are understandings of the word virginity entailed in the action of giving birth.’ Julian said: ‘Duh! So had she had sex or hadn’t she?’ Trigger words. No, it wasn’t pretty. On that went for a little while. At length, Julian’s point seemed reluctantly conceded. Then the Arch told us a new story, an additionally human event, the more to baffle us. Controversially, he told us that Mary could not have been Joseph’s first wife, for this would not have been the way of things in the society of that time. His belief was that Joseph must have taken Mary into his household through pity. That would be normal, he said, for Joseph to bring a young, vulnerable girl, who is about to have a baby, within his protection, not meaning to enjoy with her marital relations, but through kindness. ‘And this story of the inn and stable,’ the Archbishop said, ‘it can’t have been like that really. Joseph has travelled with Mary to stay with his family, at home in Bethlehem, and they don’t want Mary in their house, for reasons which I am sure we can understand. It must have been there was considerable resistance to Mary. But Mary gives birth, and who can resist a baby? That’s what happened. It must have been. ‘I’m convinced that must have been how it happened really.’ Later that term, toward the beginning of Advent, we met boys who had been here before, in Valladolid, and now were in regular seminary. They had heard and recited verbatim all the Archbishop had said to them. Their spot-on impressions of each of the fathers were scathing. […]
As Jesus died on the cross he would have looked like a leper. He had been scourged. Front and back, his skin would have been a bloody mess of welts, cuts and bruises. Being himself without sin, he died in the image of some of those most abject whom he came to save. Truly the self-sacrifice of our Lord was complete and extreme [ … ]