Worship Leaves Room for Doubt
A reflection on the Psalms
Last night I sat on the couch of a friend’s apartment in stillness for an hour. With gentle music playing through her speakers, we read through the second book of Psalms aloud. No “Bible study,” no discussion, no wrangling over what “Selah” means, just reading. My friend was intentional about creating the space to “just worship,” which is what the Psalms were written for. It was a uniquely beautiful experience — the words were not read before a sermon to be an object of exposition, the meaning wasn’t lost in catchy chords or liturgical harmonies — it highlighted how the Psalms themselves are musical, didactic, and prayerful all at once.
The Psalms incorporate the aspects of formal worship that we’re familiar with. Confession of our sins (Psalm 51), pleas for protection (Psalm 54–57), cries for justice (Psalm 58), and praise (Psalm 65). But as I read and listened, another theme stood out — doubt and uncertainty.
The Psalmist clings to the belief that there is a God and that He is listening, but he doesn’t “feel it” (English is limiting here — I don’t mean “feel” in a shallow or purely emotional sense, but “feeling” throughout your soul that something is or isn’t there beyond — but not without — reasons).
“When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
‘Where is your God?’” (Psalm 42:2–3, ESV)“For you are the God in whom I take refuge;
why have you rejected me?
Why do I go about mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?” (Psalm 43:2, ESV)“Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord?
Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!
Why do you hide your face?
Why do you forget our affliction and oppression?
For our soul is bowed down to the dust;
our belly clings to the ground.” (Psalm 44:23–25, ESV)
The Psalmist doesn’t reject God, but he doesn’t feel the assurance of God’s Presence. He believes that God is there, but he feels forgotten and distant. I know the feeling. The feeling of stumbling in the dark alone, barely staying spiritually alive, going through the motions of “being a Christian” and struggling to shut the door against the nagging questions “even if God knows, does He really care? Do my efforts matter at all?”
Two tempting options appear during these dark nights of doubt: 1) to exchange chronic doubt for chronic optimism, suppress the despair, and pretend that everything is fine, or 2) let the doubts take over, stop praying, “take a break” from church, and “give myself time to figure it out.” Two extremes: to try to worship “perfectly” without uncertainty, or to stop worshipping.
But the Psalmist does neither. Instead, he brings his struggle to the surface of his worship. He worships through his despair. Instead of hiding his doubts, he acknowledges their presence in his life and offers them to God in the same way that he offers his praises. Cries of depression are written into our liturgy. Worshipping God isn’t a way to pretend that we don’t feel uncertainty. Worship is a way to present our uncertainty and acknowledge our longing for the assurance of God’s Presence through it. Thomas didn’t hide his doubts, but as soon as Jesus appeared he cried “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28, ESV). The Psalms give us the words to do the same.
