Ps. 77.16 (the theophany of absence)

The waters / saw you / O God
the waters / saw you / and writhed
even the deeps / roiled! 

Now begins the theophany of God, his ‘coming to redeem’. Importantly, the first note struck is the effect his appearance creates. His presence itself causes the water to “writhe” and the deep to “roil”. This is very important as God’s appearance is not one of a mere object; it actually creates a response and change upon those to whom he appears. His presence itself, in other words, is active; his presence is, in a way, his will in that it is effective. Further, this verse begins the ‘battle of Yhwh’. As we have seen the focus of these verses is clearly on the exodus. However, what is crucial to note here is that Pharaoh is nowhere seen. Indeed, no human enemy is present. Rather, the entire scope of God’s deliverance is focused on “the water”. This is, of course, not unusual as the chaos-waters appear in many psalms as a force set over-against God and his creation. One sees this most clearly in Genesis when God’s spirit hovers “over the waters”. With its formlessness, it seeks to envelop everything into its lack of substance; with its churning and astonishing power, it is a force of tremendous anxiety and fear. Furthermore, the “deeps” have their own identity; although it is not clear that the term is always used the same, the “deep” often is a type of pure representation of chaos; it is almost demonic in this regard, the ‘sovereign of chaos’. Recognizing all of this makes the import of these lines apparent: even this ‘sovereign of chaos’ roils at the mere sight of God. What we should note, then, is not the utter weakness of the “deep”—rather, it is the utterly overwhelming force of God’s mere presence. The more we come to be astonished at the power of the deep, the more we come to appreciate the almost completely transcendent nature of God’s appearance. It is not the case that we need to ‘lessen the force of the deep’. Quite the reverse. We need to fully appreciate its magnitude. It is only then that we could come to grasp the fact that God’s mere presence makes it roil. From this pinnacle, it is clear that words would have a difficult time conveying the reality of God’s presence. If the deep itself roils at God’s mere presence, what is man’s language capable of? Lastly, we should note, again, that this ‘vision’ of God is precisely what the psalmist is aware of and aware of it its absence. The opening lines speak of him having his eyelids held open by God; yet there it is clear that the only thing he sees is the absence of this presence. The psalmist is in anguish, like the deep, but it is an anguish created precisely by the opposite ‘force’—that of God’s seeming abandonment.The present is the theophany of God's absence.