I love to sing. Granted, I’m not any good at it. But I love to sing: in the car, in the shower — anywhere really. But few things drive my wife crazier than when I sing the wrong words to her favorite songs. I usually know the melody or “how it goes.” But I often fill in the blanks with the wrong words. This is called misheard lyrics.

For instance, one of the most famous examples of misheard lyrics comes from Elton John’s classic Rocket Man. Everyone knows the chorus (belt it out with me!):

“I’m a rocket man! Rocket man …”

But then we start to mess up the next part. Sometimes there’s a big difference between what the words are and what I’ve always thought I heard.The actual lyrics are:

“Burning out his fuse up here alone” (whatever that means).

But usually, people sing something else. Some of my favorite misheard lyrics to this melody are:

“Burning all the shoes I’ve ever owned” or “burning on the streets of Babylon” or “bringing home a ham and provolone.”

Here’s the point: The older I get the more important proper context to God’s Word becomes to me. We can pick up our Bibles and just start reading and get something great from that. But knowing the context behind what is written is so much more important.

And sometimes, like with misheard lyrics, I may know the words or read the words of Scripture, but do I know the full story behind the Psalm? The soundtrack in my heart that is stuck in my head is playing the right melody, but perhaps the wrong meaning.

Context is critical to know the story behind today’s Psalm. Psalm 44 is one of the most famous “Angry Psalms.” Anger is an emotion that we sometimes don’t know what to do with, especially when our anger is directed at God. Is directing anger at God OK? Is it allowed? Is it a sin? Is the cause of my anger really His fault? These are all questions that enter my mind, and perhaps yours too, when we are angry with God.

But here’s my take on Psalm 44 — you will not find a better example in Scripture of the proper way to direct anger at God than here.

First, consider the context of Psalm 44. It is attributed to the sons of Korah. Most of their 11 Psalms are known for their high praise and devotion to God. Psalm 44 starts that way. The first eight verses speak of God’s faithfulness and how He has brought great military victories to Israel. Verse 4 (NIV 84), “You are my King and my God who decrees victories for Jacob.” Then verse 8, “In God we make our boast all day long and we will praise your name forever.”

But then there is a radical shift — we can’t miss it. Much like life, there is no explanation. For the first eight verses of Psalm 44, everything is good, and God gets all the credit. Then in perfect mirror form, in the next eight verses, everything is bad, and God gets all the blame. For example, consider verse 9, “But now you have rejected and humbled us; you no longer go out with our armies.” Or verse 12, “You sold your people for a pittance, gaining nothing from their sale.” Seven times over eight verses (9-16), the sons of Korah assign blame and anger at God with a finger-pointing “you.” Each verse gets more severe: You did this. You are responsible. You abandoned us. You. You! YOU!

Their outrage climaxes in verses 23-26. In what is borderline blasphemy, we see the rawness of their humanity toward God. “Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression? We are brought down to the dust; our bodies cling to the ground. Rise up and help us; rescue us because of your unfailing love.”

And yet there is no retort from God. There is no correction: for suggesting God is responsible or doesn’t care or is even asleep! God doesn’t take them “to task” and berate them for “how it really is.” It’s a bit of a cliff-hanger ending. But that’s precisely the point of Psalm 44.

Here’s what we learn: Sometimes as a preacher, I want there to be a perfect way to end a passage. I want there to be some preachy way to land the plane. I want an alliterative statement everyone can remember easily. But sometimes, the point of a passage isn’t just the content, it’s the dialogue. The dialogue is the point.

It’s as if God says, the point, with me, is that you can just get it out — all out. We don’t have to have a pillow fight with your anger. Take the gloves off. No filters. No-holds-barred. No quarter. No prisoners. I think in Psalm 44 God says, “If you are angry with me — come at me!” Just get the anger out. Be the volcano-venting venom. The point is that God lets us process painful emotions and experiences. He allows us to have dialogue where there is margin — where we are not judged, shamed or even corrected. Again, the point is the dialogue, where we can be free from blame for being immature emotional followers of Jesus.

It’s this radical thing we call grace — expressed in space.

Is it ok to be angry at God? Yes. Is it the best thing, the right thing or the deserved thing? I’m not sure if those questions are relevant to Psalm 44. The point is, that God can take it. Especially when we have had enough. Psalm 44 is a permission slip to get it all out. It’s an invitation and a template for how to be angry at God. Because He allows us to have dialogue with room for abundant grace. God is simply worthy of more praise, even when we blame Him for what isn’t His fault.