"But You"

But you, O Lord, are enthroned forever (Psalm 102:12)

Speaking the word “but” is like highlighting everything that came before it and hitting “delete.” Chances are your experience verifies the eraser-like power of the word. Maybe the words have been spoken to you – usually some kind of affirmation, followed by the word “but” which renders all that was previously spoken null and void. And maybe you’ve spoken the word yourself, trying to come across as supportive, trying to come across as the good guy, only to utter “but” and torpedo everything you said along with your supportive good guy persona.

In our conversations, “but” diminishes, takes away, makes less or puts down. Not so in Psalm 102.

Right in the middle of Psalm 102 there is a hinge phrase, two little words that lend strength to the prayer and embolden the one praying. Two short defiant words: “but you.” In a Psalm that is 28 verses long, this powerful little conjunctive comes at verse 12, right near the middle. It is at this point, with these words, that the prayer turns a corner.

Before the text of the Psalm begins, there is a prescript that gives us a clue as to what we’re reading and hearing. This is “a prayer of an afflicted person who has grown weak and pours out a lament before the Lord.” The words of the prayer unfold the affliction with vivid imagery, describing conditions not unfamiliar to many. These are the words of a person who cannot eat and cannot sleep. They seem to be wasting away and all they see around them is ruins. They know the pain of hostility and conflict, the derision of an enemy. The tears flow freely. And to top it off, the one praying implicates God. “You have taken me up and thrown me aside.”

Then the hinge. The prayer turns a corner. After eleven verses of rehearsing the anguish and describing the affliction, the person at prayer utters two words that jerk everything into a new context, two words that move from simple description of suffering toward definition.

“But you.”

Here the affliction is coupled with affirmation. “But you, O Lord, sit enthroned forever” (v. 12). These words do not negate the affliction. There’s nothing magical here that makes the suffering go away. Nor is this denial. What “but you” does is place the affliction in a larger context. The experience of the one praying is understood in light of the presence and ultimate purposes of God. These two small words are steely, determined and defiant. The suffering is real, but it isn’t the most real thing about life. God is enthroned forever. God will arise and have compassion. God will rebuild what has been ruined. God sees what’s going on and he hears the anguished groans of those who suffer. This is real, the most real thing in the life of the one praying.

There are plenty of times when we want to pray, but don’t know how (Romans 8:26). Strangely, these are often times of affliction. It seems like suffering would push us to fervent prayer – but it doesn’t always work that way. In our distress, we bog down and lose words. Even Jesus, before his crucifixion, struggled this way. “Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say?” (John 12:27). Psalm 102 helps us by giving us two words.

“But you.”

Faith seems to hang on these two little words. Without them, we truly become “unhinged.” Pray the Psalm, or pray like the Psalm. Rehearse the affliction, ask the questions, wrestle with the implications, don’t hold back tears – it’s all prayer.

And in it all, when other words fail, be bold in this declaration: “but you.”

(Suggested reading: Mark D. Roberts, No Holds Barred: Wrestling with God in Prayer).