Writhing Waters

Israel’s miraculous liberation in the Exodus was seared into their national consciousness. God intervened and they escaped into freedom through the Red Sea – and that deliverance defined Israel as a free people. In later years whenever they faced crisis, they went back to their founding story to get their bearings.

Psalm 77 is one of those times. Life in the real world seems to bring one crisis after another. Friends turn hostile, disease threatens, money runs out and debts pile up, plans go south and family peace disintegrates over-night. Life can get really scary sometimes – and faith doesn’t insulate anyone from distress.


Psalm 77 describes a time when not even prayer seemed to help.
When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands
and my soul refused to be comforted.
I remembered you, O God, and I groaned;
I mused, and my spirit grew faint.
Psalm 77:2-3

This writer is in extreme distress - fearful, depressed, exhausted and full of questions. His heart is troubled beyond words and it seems that God is ignoring him. He is facing his own Red Sea trauma. The ancient national story parallels his own personal crisis and he is desperate for God’s intervention.

He meditates on the story of the Exodus and imagines the convulsing waters of the Red Sea.

The waters saw you, O God,

the waters saw you and writhed;

the very depths were convulsed.

The clouds poured down water,

the skies resounded with thunder;

your arrows flashed back and forth.

Psalm 77:16-18

The ‘writhing waters’ of the sea echo the writhing spirit in the poet’s own soul. He is unnerved by his ordeal. He shudders in the same way that Nature shudders before the raw power of God. The poet sees God as a warrior hurling lightning bolts, roaring against Egypt, drenching his enemies, but opening a path for Israel.

He rhapsodizes about God’s power exercised on behalf of his people and he longs for his own personal deliverance. He reminds himself of the infinite unrestricted power of God, untamed power, like Aslan’s - “Of course he’s not safe, but he’s good.” And that power begins to secure his peace.

That’s how our poet comes to terms with his own turbulence - by recalling a greater turbulence, a ‘counter-turbulence’. He finds hope by trusting that this powerful God will once again be his ally and not his foe. His reeling world begins to stabilize. He recovers his footing; he writes a song to try and sort it all out, a song to recall in future turbulent times how God’s power tames the most violent upheavals, not just for captive nations, but for ordinary frightened and confused individuals jut like him.

And the great irony is that no one can bring peace to people writhing in the ragged turbulence of life like someone who has experienced similar upheaval and distress. It is through confusion and perseverance, through crisis and deliverance that we acquire the credibility that brings assurance to others. That’s what turbulent waters are good for. That’s why we need each other.

Painting Credits:
Exodus Passage - Guillaume Azoulay
Storm-Tossed - The Painting Gallery