Psalm 42: When Your Soul Is Cast Down

Core Theme: For when you feel far from God and from the joy you once knew, and the heaviness follows you from morning into night

(Related Theme: This psalm also speaks to Doubt & Wavering Faith — see verse 3 below.)

Background

Psalm 42 was written for the sons of Korah, a family of Levites who served as singers and keepers of the temple. Their story is a picture of grace in itself. Their ancestor Korah led a rebellion against Moses and was judged for it, yet Scripture notes, “Notwithstanding the children of Korah died not” (Numbers 26:11). Generations later, his descendants were leading Israel in worship.

The heading calls this psalm a “Maschil,” a word generally understood to mean a psalm of instruction or careful reflection. The writer is far from Jerusalem, somewhere in the north near the Jordan and the slopes of Mount Hermon, and he is cut off from worshiping at the house of God. Some have suggested the setting is David’s flight from Absalom, but the psalm does not say. Psalm 43 shares the same refrain and carries no heading of its own, so the two were likely sung together as one prayer.

Psalm 42 (KJV)

1 To the chief Musician, Maschil, for the sons of Korah. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

2 My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?

3 My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

4 When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday.

5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

6 O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

7 Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

8 Yet the LORD will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

9 I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?

10 As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?

11 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

The heart of it

Psalm 42 is the prayer of someone who loves God deeply and feels far from Him. The psalmist remembers leading crowds of worshipers to the house of God with joy and singing, and now that life seems out of reach. What hurts most is not the distance from a place. It is the sense of distance from God Himself.

The psalm does not move in a straight line from sorrow to joy. It rises and falls like waves. The psalmist pours out his grief, then speaks hope to his own soul, then sinks again, then speaks hope again. The same taunt, “Where is thy God?”, comes back in verse 10, and the same refrain comes back in verse 11. That pattern is true to life. Sorrow rarely lifts all at once. It returns, and each time it does, the psalmist answers it the same way: “hope thou in God.”

Notice that he never stops talking to God, even while he feels forgotten by Him. He calls God “my rock” in the very same breath as asking, “Why hast thou forgotten me?” Faith in this psalm is not the absence of heaviness. It is holding on to God while the heaviness remains.

Walking through it

Verses 1–2: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.”

A hart [deer] in dry country panting for water is not mildly interested in a drink. It is desperate, and its life depends on finding water. That is how the psalmist describes his longing for God. His sorrow has not driven him away from God. It has made him thirstier for Him. He wants “the living God,” not religious routine or a memory of better days. The Lord Jesus answers that kind of thirst directly: “…If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink” (John 7:37). Grief often uncovers how much we truly need Him, and that need is itself an invitation to come.

Verse 3: “My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?”

His tears have become his meat [food]. Sorrow has replaced his appetite and filled his days and nights. On top of the grief, people around him keep asking, “Where is thy God?” Sometimes that question comes from scoffers. Sometimes it comes from within, whispered by our own discouraged hearts. For anyone wrestling with doubt and wavering faith, it matters that the psalmist hears the question and still does not let go of God. He takes the question to God instead of letting it carry him away from Him.

Verse 5: “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.”

Here the psalmist does something important. He stops listening to his soul and starts speaking to it. His soul is cast down and disquieted [restless, in turmoil], and he does not deny it. But he gives his soul a command: “hope thou in God.” He is not pretending the sorrow is gone. He is telling himself what is true while the sorrow is still present. Notice the word “yet.” He cannot praise God the way he wants to today, but he is confident he will. His hope rests on “the help of his countenance” [face, presence], on God turning His face toward him again. Jeremiah did the same thing in his own grief: “This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope” (Lamentations 3:21).

Verses 7–8: “Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.”

In the northern country where he is staying, the psalmist can likely hear the rushing waters and falls near the headwaters of the Jordan. The sound becomes a picture of his grief. One wave of sorrow calls to the next, and the billows [great waves] roll over him again and again. Yet he calls them “thy waves and thy billows.” Even the flood is not outside God’s hand. Then verse 8 opens with “Yet.” By day the Lord commands His lovingkindness, and by night His song is with him. The waves are real, but so is the song. God has promised, “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee…” (Isaiah 43:2). He does not always stop the waves, but He never leaves us in them.

Carrying this forward

If the Lord has already brought you through a season when you felt far from Him, look back and notice how He kept you. Like the psalmist remembering better days, we can let memory turn us toward God instead of only toward what we lost. As the heaviness lifts, it is easy to drift and to stop thirsting the way we did when we were desperate. Keep coming to the water. The God who sustained you in the dry place is worth seeking just as eagerly now that the season has changed.

If you are in it now, and your soul is cast down and the waves keep coming, do what the psalmist did. Tell God honestly how heavy it is, and then speak truth to your own soul: hope in God. You may need to say it again tomorrow, and the day after that. The psalmist had to say it more than once too. You may not be able to praise Him the way you once did yet, but notice that word “yet.” He is still your rock, even on the days you feel forgotten, and He has promised, “…I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5). The night may be long, but His song is with you in it, and you shall yet praise Him.