Commentary - Psalm 88:1-2

Bird's-eye view

Psalm 88 is the darkest psalm in the entire Psalter. It is a raw, unrelenting cry of lament from a man who feels utterly abandoned by God and man. Unlike almost every other lament psalm, this one ends with no glimmer of hope, no final vow of praise, no turn from despair to trust. Its final word is "darkness." And yet, it is a psalm, a song intended for corporate worship. Its very inclusion in the canon of Scripture is a profound gift of grace to the saints. It provides inspired language for the believer who is walking through the valley of the shadow of death and cannot yet see the light on the other side. The opening verses establish the central tension of the psalm: the psalmist, Heman, clings to the objective truth of who God is, "the God of my salvation," while his subjective experience is one of constant, unanswered agony. This is a prayer from the very bottom of the pit, and it teaches us that the bleakest moments of our lives are still to be brought before the face of God.

These first two verses serve as the formal address and petition of the prayer. Heman establishes his standing before God, not on the basis of his feelings, but on the basis of God's covenant name and saving character. He then makes his one simple request: "Hear me." Before he unloads the full catalog of his miseries, his foundational plea is that God would simply incline His ear and grant him an audience. This is the essence of faith in the midst of profound suffering; it is the refusal to stop crying out to the only one who can save, even when all evidence seems to suggest He is not listening.

Outline

Context In Psalms

Psalm 88 is part of Book III of the Psalms (Psalms 73-89), a section that deals heavily with the themes of God's covenant with Israel, the crisis of the exile, and the apparent failure of the Davidic monarchy. Many of these psalms, like Psalm 74 and 79, are communal laments. Psalm 88 is intensely personal, but it fits within this broader context of crisis and seeming divine abandonment. It is attributed to Heman the Ezrahite, one of two wise men mentioned alongside Solomon (1 Kings 4:31), which places its composition during Israel's golden age. This is significant; it shows that such profound darkness is not limited to times of national apostasy or judgment but can be the experience of even the wisest and most faithful saints. It stands in stark contrast to the psalm that follows, Psalm 89, which, though also a lament over the broken Davidic covenant, is filled with magnificent remembrances of God's past faithfulness. Psalm 88 has no such remembrances. It is a prayer for the man who feels he has no good past to look back on and no good future to look forward to, and yet, he prays.

Key Issues

The Darkest Song

Before we dive into the text itself, we must reckon with the superscription. Modern readers are often tempted to skip over these technical notes, but they are part of the inspired text and set the stage for everything that follows. This is "A Song. A Psalm," indicating it was meant to be sung in public worship. It is "of the sons of Korah," the great Levitical choir guild, descendants of the man who led a rebellion against Moses but whose sons were spared and restored to ministry. They knew something about grace in the face of judgment. It is "For the choir director," a formal composition, not a private journal entry.

The most telling phrases are "According to Mahalath Leannoth" and "A Maskil." Mahalath Leannoth is likely a musical instruction, and it translates to something like "sickness for affliction" or "for humbling." It tells the musicians to pull out their most mournful, gut-wrenching melody. This is a song to be sung in a minor key. And yet, it is a Maskil, a psalm of instruction. What could this bleakest of psalms possibly instruct us in? It instructs us in how to pray when we are at the end of our ropes. It teaches us that godliness is not pretending we are fine. Godliness is taking our brokenness and confusion and grief, and hurling it all at the throne of grace. This psalm is a divine permission slip for the saint to be utterly honest with God in the midst of unbearable pain.

Verse by Verse Commentary

Title: A Song. A Psalm of the sons of Korah. For the choir director. According to Mahalath Leannoth. A Maskil of Heman the Ezrahite.

We have already touched on this, but it bears repeating. Every element here is designed to frame what is to come. This is not the incoherent rambling of a madman; it is a carefully constructed liturgical piece. It is from Heman the Ezrahite. Along with Ethan the Ezrahite (author of Psalm 89), Heman was a man whose wisdom was legendary, second only to Solomon's (1 Kings 4:31). He was a co-founder of the temple choir with Asaph and Jeduthun. This is a man who walked with God, a man of profound wisdom and musical talent. And this is his song. This tells us that deep, abiding, spiritual darkness is not necessarily the result of some secret sin or a lack of faith. It can descend upon the most mature and godly of saints. This is profoundly comforting, because it means that when we find ourselves in such a place, we are not alone; we are in the company of men like Heman.

1 O Yahweh, the God of my salvation, I have cried out by day and throughout the night before You.

The psalm opens with an address that is a staggering statement of faith. In the midst of what he will describe as total abandonment, Heman addresses God by His covenant name, Yahweh. This is the name God revealed to Moses, the name that speaks of His self-existence, His faithfulness, and His covenant love for His people. More than that, he calls Him "the God of my salvation." He is not praying to a generic deity; he is praying to the God who has covenanted to save him. His theology is rock-solid, even while his emotional world is collapsing. This is the central struggle of the Christian life. Will we believe what God says about Himself, or will we believe what our circumstances and feelings are screaming at us? Heman chooses to plant his flag on the character of God. From this beachhead of faith, he launches his complaint. And the complaint is that his prayer has been constant, unceasing. "By day and throughout the night." This is not a momentary fit of pique. This is a perpetual state of agony that he has perpetually brought before God, seemingly to no effect.

2 Let my prayer come before You; Incline Your ear to my cry of lamentation!

Here is the petition. It is simple, direct, and foundational. Before he asks for deliverance, before he asks for understanding, he asks for a hearing. "Let my prayer come before You." This is courtroom language. He is asking for his case to be formally admitted into the presence of the great King. He wants to know that his words are not simply dissipating into the air. He wants them to arrive at their intended destination. Then he intensifies the request: "Incline Your ear." This is a beautiful anthropomorphism. It pictures God stooping down, turning His head, and putting His ear close to Heman's mouth to catch every word. He is not asking God to just be aware of his prayer in a general sense; he is asking for focused, personal, attentive listening. And what should God listen to? His "cry of lamentation." The Hebrew word for cry here is rinnah, which often means a loud, piercing, ringing cry. This is not a quiet, dignified prayer. This is a shriek from the soul. Heman is in agony, and he wants the God of his salvation to lean in and listen to the sound of his heart breaking.

Application

So what do we do with a passage like this? First, we thank God for it. We thank God that He did not fill His prayer book with only happy, triumphant psalms. He gave us Psalm 88 to show us that He is not afraid of our darkness, our doubts, or our despair. He invites us to bring the totality of our experience to Him, without pretense or polishing. This psalm gives us permission to lament, and to lament honestly.

Second, we learn from Heman how to pray in the dark. We begin by affirming who God is, regardless of how we feel. We address Him as Yahweh, the God of our salvation, even if He feels like the God of our damnation. Faith is not the absence of negative feelings; faith is addressing the right person from the middle of those negative feelings. We plant our feet on the objective truth of the gospel and refuse to be moved.

Finally, we see Christ in this psalm. Heman was a wise man in a dark pit, but Christ is wisdom incarnate, and He descended into the darkest pit of all. On the cross, He cried out by day and by night. He was forsaken by His friends, and in a profound mystery, felt forsaken by His Father. He cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He entered into the ultimate Mahalath Leannoth, the ultimate sickness unto death. He did this so that our prayers, even our most desperate and incoherent cries of lamentation, might "come before" the throne of God. Because Jesus was cast into the outer darkness, our cries from the darkness are now always heard. He inclined His ear to our sin, so that the Father now inclines His ear to our cry.