Dark. Inhospitable. Damp. Shadows full of questions; silence full of sadness. The body shivers. Alone. Enemies close. Friends far. Manacled within midnight at midday. David, miles from the throne, sits in a cave.
He retraces his descent. How had it come to this? God promised him so much, delivered so much — exalted him high enough to cut off a giant’s head. He had won the hearts of the nation, the prince, and the king’s daughter. Even Saul, for a time, loved him. Now he sits alone in a cave. How the mighty have fallen. He whose legend demanded celebration now hides himself in the heart of the earth. Where had he taken the false turn? He has nowhere to be and no one to be with. How can he ever recover what was lost?
Have you ever been in such a cave? You no longer understand the plan. You fail to connect the dots between God’s promises, your prayers, and this dungeon. How could God ever turn this loneliness, this hardship, this unsmiling turn for your good?
Aren’t you glad, then, to read this inscription over Psalm 142: “A Maskil of David, when he was in the cave. A Prayer.” The cave psalms (57, 142) have given voice to my soul, teaching me not merely to stop grumbling but to be grateful for the shadows, the silence, the seclusion. Perhaps a brief reflection on Psalm 142 will do the same for you.
Alone
Isolation is often the worst part. It deepens the blackness and hardens your bed of stone. When your dread came upon you, you expected others to be right there with you.
But here you sit.
In a cave.
Alone.
Rain falls outside; the walls echo with your misery:
Look to the right and see:
there is none who takes notice of me;
no refuge remains to me;
no one cares for my soul. (Psalm 142:4)
Look, Lord! Look here at my right hand and see only rocks. Is there a friend within reach? None. Once my deeds were sung and your work through me extolled; you made me a household name. Once the whole nation offered me its gratitude; now, none take notice of me; now, no one cares for my soul. I have been chased from the refuge my sling secured; no refuge remains to me but that of an outlaw. Solitary confinement, my home.
Not Alone
When David didn’t know where to turn, David knew where to turn. When all paths seemed blocked, he knew the path upward never suffered roadblock. God was always within earshot.
With my voice I cry out to the Lord;
with my voice I plead for mercy to the Lord.
I pour out my complaint before him;
I tell my trouble before him. (Psalm 142:1–2)
“With my voice . . .” The cave reverberates with David’s desperation. His troubled soul needs vent; his vexation needs vocalization. He did not let thoughts fester in his head. This was no actor’s soliloquy, spoken to himself. This was the voice of a man after God’s heart, who cried out to God when his heart broke. David knew that when he was alone, he was never alone.
And even when his spirit fainted, when the walls closed in and hope seemed lost, when he could not think himself out or fight his way through, a single conviction burned:
When my spirit faints within me,
you know my way! (Psalm 142:3)
He doesn’t know where to go or whom to trust, only that enemies crowd his friendless path. His spirit staggers like a waterless man in the desert. His life is a wandering; he doesn’t know the way — but his God does. This zigzag, this sorrowful setback, this dark detour — how could this work out for good? How could this be the path to promise? How could this be the right way? He didn’t need the answers. He didn’t need to check the map or grab the steering wheel or know the way himself — “you know the way!” And Christians add, “Lord, you are the Way.”
Enough
If you will have it, receive the lesson of the cave:
I cry to you, O Lord;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.” (Psalm 142:5)
Sometimes it takes the cave — life in shambles, enemies winning, friends nowhere to be found — to (re)learn that God is the only true refuge, our only true portion in the land of the living. That he is, in fact, enough. Silence teaches a body of divinity about God’s all-sufficiency; darkness helps us rediscover the Light of the world again. When life is too much for us, when we are brought so low as to lick the dust, he kneels beside us. Our portion has not left us. Our reason for living is right here.
He knows your way when no one else does; he hears your voice when no one else can; he sits beside you when no one else will. When you find yourself in the heart of the earth, the sun seems dead, and no brother lends you the comfort you crave, do you know the one who has caught every tear and listened to every sigh? His name is still translated into many titles: Love and God and Father and Savior and Friend.
He who dwells above the cave orders your life still. In the other psalm from a cave, David writes, “I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me” (Psalm 57:2). David addresses a God above all circumstances, yet one who orchestrates his circumstances. One not startled, not scrambling, not stumbling over what befell him. A God who has a purpose for David, one he is fulfilling even now. In the heart of the earth, with pressure all around, God is fashioning his diamond. A man who knows how to be brought low can be entrusted to go higher. A man who trusts God when thrown down is nearly ready for a throne. God makes kings in caves.
Surrounded
David’s hope is not done. God is enough for him. His presence turns Adullam to Eden, yet he is confident God has more to give. Human relationships still mattered — “it is not good for man to be alone.” Hear the prayer’s last line.
The righteous will surround me,
for you will deal bountifully with me. (Psalm 142:7)
He will not leave you alone. God will surround you with those who love him, in this life and the next. He will yet be gracious. God will deal bountifully with you. Until Christ can wipe away every tear from your eye with his own hand, he uses those of his body to do so.
When all seems lost, remember your God.
He is the God who, though your soul has fainted, knows your way. He is the God who is a refuge when men and kingdoms fail. He is the portion of your soul when no friend sticks closer than a brother. He is the God who raises those from the dust, aids those under persecution, and satisfies you to praise his name. He is the God who does nothing without purpose, who fulfills his purpose for you, even when you cannot see your hand before your face. And he is the God who will yet be gracious and will surround your lonely soul with righteous companions in due time.
Desiring God