Why do I thirst, Lord?

As you read the following excerpts from Psalm 42 and two different versions of "As the Deer," ask yourself the following question:

Whose fault is it that the speaker suffers from unquenchable thirst?
     a) The enemies are responsible
     b) God is responsible.
     c) It is the speaker's own fault.

  As the deer pants for the water

So my soul longs after you
You alone are my heart's desire
And I long to worship you

      from "As the Deer" by Martin Nystrom

And I pour out my soul deep within me,
Deep within me, I pour out my soul.
Draw me deeper Lord, deeper Lord, in You.
Draw me deeper Lord, deeper Lord, in You.
      from "As the Deer" by Dennis Jernigan

¹ As the deer pants for streams of water,
   so my soul pants for you, my God. [...]
 ⁹ I say to God my Rock,
   “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
   oppressed by the enemy?”
¹⁰ My bones suffer mortal agony
   as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
   “Where is your God?” 
     from Psalm 42

Links to full versions:
 "As the Deer" by Martin Nystrom
"As the Deer" by Dennis Jernigan
Psalms 42 & 43

As I sang these two version of "As the Deer" growing up, I always assumed that it was my own fault my thirst could not be quenched. I thought that if I sang loud enough, felt deeply enough, truly wanted God more than gold or silver, and truly poured out my soul deep within me, God would immediately wash over me and satisfy my thirst for his presence.

But when I read psalms 42 and 43 (which probably form a single unit), I get the sense that the psalmist blames his enemies or blames God for his unquenchable thirst. There is a good chance that the psalmist is writing this poem as a captive. In 42:4, the psalmist nostalgically remembers how he used to go to the house of God. We might interpret this from our own experiences of people who left the church for a time only to have fond memories of their childhood faith when they hit rock bottom, but it is more likely that a third party keeps this pslamist from going to the temple than that the psalmist has made a choice not to attend the house of worship. In 43:1, the psalmist asks God to plead his cause "against an unjust nation." In 43:3-4, the psalmist beseeches God, "bring me to your holy mountain...Then I will go to the altar of God...I will praise you with the lyre." Thus, the psalmist seems to claim that the unjust nation is keeping him from quenching his thirst for worship at the temple, but he also holds God accountable, asking why God has allowed this nation its power.

Yet the psalmist does not let himself off the hook completely. Three times throughout the poem, he asks himself, "Why so downcast...I can and will praise God yet [paraphrase]." In 42:6, the psalmist proclaims that he can worship God from the alternate location of Mount Mizar. In 42:7, he seems to find a beautiful, powerful, and terrible God in nature, and in 42:8, he claims that God is with him day and night, temple or no temple.

I love the complex theology in this poem, and how the blame is divided between the individual worshiper, the enemies in power, and even God. I don't get this same sense of complexity from either version of "As the Deer." Not only do these songs strip Psalms 42 & 43 of any trace of lament (no one has ever suggested an extra verse that begins "My tears have been my food day and night."), they seem to portray thirst as a good thing that worshipers should strive for, perhaps with a nod to Matthew 5:6.

As someone who works with teenagers, I often hear complaints about unquenchable thirst for God. In some ways, this is exactly what we want for our youth, but all too often, it digresses into "Cry night at camp just wasn't as good as last year," or "Worship was missing something tonight." When I was a teenager myself, I often felt guilty when I didn't pray enough or didn't give my all to a worship service. I forced myself to get on my knees every time we sang "There's a Stirring" because I had had several powerful experiences while singing that song, and I was extremely disappointed each time those experiences were not repeated. Whenever God felt distant, I would usually pray for him to fill me up (a prayer that, more often than not, did not seem to be answered), or I would avoid the problem entirely and fall deeper into my secret anxiety.

What might have happened if I had pulled out the entire arsenal of prayer, blaming God for drying me up, begging him to remove all distractions, holding him accountable for allowing these distractions in the first place, admitting my own contributions to the problem, considering whether it might not be possible to worship God in a different place or a different way, but begging God to make the particular kind of worship I desire possible again?

I honestly don't know. Perhaps blaming God and enemies in prayer does more harm than good, but I really don't know because I have not tried. And I suspect the same is true for the majority of American Christians today. When I pray, I usually ask God for something very specific or else say, "Thy will be done," without really meaning it. And so I look to Jewish theology and the language of the psalms for alternate possibilities.

Incidentally, "There's a Stirring" and both versions of "As the Deer" are still some of my favorite songs.