Preaching to Yourself Text: Psalm 42:9-11
Introduction: The Internal Dialogue of Faith
The Christian life is not a placid, sterile laboratory. It is a battlefield, and some of the fiercest fighting happens within the tight confines of your own skull. We live in a sentimental age that tells you to "follow your heart," to "listen to your feelings," as though your soul were a trustworthy and serene guide. But the psalmist here knows better. He understands that the soul, this side of glory, is frequently a mess. It is prone to despair, it is easily disturbed, and it listens to the wrong voices. The world, the flesh, and the devil are constantly whispering accusations, lies, and temptations into our ears. And our own hearts, deceitful above all things, are often inclined to believe them.
This is why one of the most essential disciplines of the Christian faith is learning how to take yourself in hand. You must learn to stop listening to yourself and start talking to yourself. This is what we see the psalmist doing throughout this psalm, and it is a master class in spiritual warfare. He is not passively letting his emotions run the show. He is actively engaging in a three-way conversation. He speaks to God, he hears from his enemies, and most importantly, he preaches a sermon to his own soul.
We see a man in deep distress. He feels forgotten by God. He is surrounded by enemies who mock his faith with the most cutting question imaginable: "Where is your God?" This is not a theoretical problem for him. The reproach is like a physical blow, a shattering of the bones. And in the middle of this external and internal chaos, what does he do? He does not simply let the waves of despair wash over him. He confronts his own soul, he questions its despair, and he commands it to hope in God. This is not the double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. This is a man whose faith is being forged in the fire. It is a faith that wrestles, that questions, and that ultimately lays hold of the truth and preaches it relentlessly to the inner man.
If you are a Christian, you will find yourself in this place. Your enemies will mock you. Your circumstances will seem to contradict everything you believe. Your own soul will feel like it is sinking into a pit. In those moments, you have two options. You can listen to the cacophony of despair, or you can do what David does here. You can take up the Word of God and preach it to yourself until your soul listens.
The Text
I say to God my rock, "Why have You forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?"
As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries reproach me,
While they say to me all day long, "Where is your God?"
Why are you in despair, O my soul?
And why are you disturbed within me?
Wait for God, for I shall still praise Him,
The salvation of my presence and my God.
(Psalm 42:9-11 LSB)
An Honest Complaint to the Rock (v. 9)
The psalmist begins this section by turning his face toward God. He is in trouble, and he knows where to take his trouble.
"I say to God my rock, 'Why have You forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?'" (Psalm 42:9)
Notice the glorious contradiction here. He addresses God as "my rock," which is a title of unshakable stability, faithfulness, and strength. In the very same breath, he asks, "Why have You forgotten me?" This is not the language of unbelief. Unbelief doesn't bother to complain to God; it just walks away. This is the language of faith under extreme pressure. It is the cry of a man who knows God is a rock, but whose circumstances feel like quicksand. He is standing on the objective truth of God's character while honestly expressing his subjective experience of abandonment.
This is a crucial lesson for us. God is not a fragile deity who is offended by our honest questions in the midst of suffering. He invites us to bring our bewilderment to Him. Think of Job. Think of Jeremiah. Think of our Lord on the cross, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The psalmist's question, "Why have you forgotten me?" is not an accusation that God is, in fact, forgetful. It is a plea for God to act in a way that is consistent with His character as the Rock. He is essentially saying, "You are my Rock. Act like it! Show me Your stability. Remind me of Your presence."
He is mourning because of "the oppression of the enemy." The Christian life is not a stroll through a rose garden. We have a real enemy who hates us because he hates the God we serve. This oppression is real, it is heavy, and it causes genuine grief. The psalmist does not pretend otherwise. He does not put on a plastic smile and say everything is fine. He takes his sorrow and lays it bare before the God who is his only true source of strength.
The Enemy's Taunt (v. 10)
Next, the psalmist describes the nature of the enemy's oppression. It is not just physical; it is spiritual. It is aimed at the very heart of his faith.
"As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries reproach me, While they say to me all day long, 'Where is your God?'" (Psalm 42:10)
The pain of this reproach is visceral. It is like "a shattering of my bones." This is not a minor irritation. It is a mortal agony. And what is this bone-shattering weapon? It is a question: "Where is your God?"
This has always been the central taunt of the unbelieving world. When a Christian suffers, when the church is persecuted, when evil seems to be winning, the world leans in and whispers, "See? Your God is not real. Or if He is, He doesn't care. He has abandoned you. Where is He?" The enemy knows that if he can get you to doubt God's presence and goodness, he has won a major victory.
Notice the frequency of the attack: "all day long." This is a relentless, grinding assault on his faith. It is the constant background noise of his life. This is precisely what the devil does. He is the accuser. He points to your suffering, your sin, your weakness, and he hammers you with that question. And the bitter irony here is that the enemy's question is a malicious echo of the psalmist's own internal struggle. The psalmist just asked God, "Why have you forgotten me?" and now the enemy twists that honest lament into a godless taunt.
This is why we must be so careful. Our honest struggles and laments before God are right and good. But when we start listening to the enemy's version of those same questions, we are on dangerous ground. The enemy's goal is to drive us from God. The psalmist's goal is to drive himself deeper into God.
The Godly Sermon to the Soul (v. 11)
Having heard the taunts of the enemy, and having poured out his complaint to God, the psalmist now turns and addresses the final conversation partner: his own soul. And he does not coddle it. He commands it.
"Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why are you disturbed within me? Wait for God, for I shall still praise Him, The salvation of my presence and my God." (Psalm 42:11)
This is the crucial pivot. He stops listening to his soul and starts preaching to it. He cross-examines it. "Why are you in despair?" He is demanding that his soul give an account for its condition. He knows that in light of who God is, this deep despair is fundamentally irrational. It is an emotional state that is out of line with theological reality.
After questioning his soul, he gives it a direct command: "Wait for God." The Hebrew word is often translated as "hope in God." It is not a passive, sit-on-your-hands kind of waiting. It is an active, expectant trust. It is the confident assurance that God will act. He is telling his soul to stop looking at the waves of circumstance and to fix its gaze on the God who rules the waves.
And he gives his soul the reason for this hope. It is a settled conviction: "for I shall still praise Him." This is a declaration of future certainty. He is saying, "Soul, you may be in the pit right now, but I am telling you, as a matter of fact, that a day is coming when you will praise God again. This is not the end of the story." This is faith refusing to be defined by the present moment. It is faith that stands in the miserable present and lays claim to a glorious future, because it is a future that is guaranteed by God Himself.
He concludes by defining who this God is. He is "The salvation of my presence and my God." The salvation is not an abstract concept; it is a person. God Himself is our salvation. The phrase "salvation of my presence" can also be rendered "the help of my countenance." God's salvation changes our very expression, from mourning to joy. And He is not just God in general; He is "my God." This is the language of covenant, of personal relationship. This is the truth he preaches to his soul. God is your help. God is your salvation. God is your God. Therefore, hope in Him.
The Gospel Refrain
This entire psalm, and this refrain in particular, finds its ultimate fulfillment in the Lord Jesus Christ. Was there ever a soul more disturbed than His in the garden of Gethsemane? Was there ever one more entitled to ask, "Why have you forgotten me?" than the one who hung on the cross, bearing the sin of the world?
The ultimate taunt, "Where is your God?" was hurled at Him as He died. "He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him" (Matthew 27:43). The enemy threw his best and most bitter reproach at the Son of God, and it felt, for a time, like a shattering of His bones. All the waves and breakers of God's wrath against our sin went over Him.
And yet, He did not despair. He entrusted His spirit to the Father. He hoped in God, and God raised Him from the dead. Because of Christ's victory, we can now preach this same sermon to our souls with an even greater confidence. When our soul is in despair, we can ask it, "Why? Has Christ not been raised? Is He not your God?"
When the enemy taunts us, "Where is your God?" we have the definitive answer. He is seated at the right hand of the Father. He is interceding for you right now. And He has sent His Spirit to dwell within you. He is not distant; He is closer than your next breath.
Therefore, we must learn this discipline. Do not be a passive listener to the turmoil of your own heart. Take it by the scruff of the neck. Question its despair. Command it to hope. And give it the reason: Jesus Christ is risen. He is the salvation of your countenance. He is your God. And because of Him, you shall still praise Him.