In the second stanza of Psalm 16, David expresses his commitment to God’s cause. He speaks of loyalty to God’s people, and then of his attitude toward those who worship other gods:
As for the saints who are in the earth, they are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight. The sorrows of those who have bartered for another god will be multiplied; I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood, Nor will I take their names upon my lips.
David uses the common Hebrew word for “saints,” which literally means “holy ones.” We often think of “holiness” as simply piety or goodness—the holy person doesn’t do bad stuff—but that’s not usually what it means; rather, it speaks of being set apart, or special. “Saints,” then, are simply people who belong to God, who are his treasured possession—what both Paul and Peter call his “peculiar people” (Ti 2.14; 1P 2.9 KJV). (They got this language directly from the Mosaic Law [Ex 19.5; Dt 14.2; 26.18 KJV].)
So David says here that he views the people who belong to YHWH, the true God, as “majestic ones,” like kings or nobles or chieftains; the word is also used of the ocean (Ex 15.10), a ship (Is 33.21), and a tree (Ezk 17.23).
God’s people, he says, are the people I respect.
That’s a good reminder for us.
We tend to be tougher on people we’re more familiar with, because we know their foibles and weaknesses; familiarity does indeed breed contempt.
And I’m not denying their foiblitude. (Don’t look it up; it’s not in the dictionary.) Everybody’s that way. None of our fellow believers, including you and me, deserved to become children of God. But we are, and the fact that we’re in the same family should incline us to give one another a break, a measure of grace. Family matters. Not because we’re all really cool, but because we are chosen and set apart and loved by the God who made all things and whose Son has purchased us with his own blood.
That’s a good place to start.
David contrasts that with his view of those who have chosen false gods.
[Sidebar: there’s a translation issue here; does the Bebrew say they have “hastened after” (mahar I) or “bartered for” (mahar II) other gods? In this case, as in many others, the question has no impact on the essential meaning of the verse.]
He begins by saying that they have a difficult life ahead of them: their “sorrows … will be multipled.” That is what happens to people who live outside the umbrella of God’s protection. It’s the language God used to Eve as the consequence of the first sin (Ge 3.16).
Now, we should note that God is in fact kind even to those who reject him; he gives food (Ps 145.15) and sunshine and rain (Mt.5.45) even to those who are ungrateful and evil (Lk 6.35). It’s often said that he gives breath even to the people who use it to curse him. We call this generosity “common grace.”
It’s also true that the Christian life is not simply a matter of tiptoeing through the tulips. The consequences of living in a world broken by sin reach us as well, and we know the sorrows of sickness and death, of conflict and conflagration.
But God’s people have promises of his protection, wisdom, direction, and care that do not apply to those who reject him. In that sense, the choices of the godless result in a lifetime of sorrows.
Perhaps the clearest illustration of this principle is the child sacrifice practiced by the Canaanite religions. How can tossing a living infant into a raging furnace and hearing his dying cries not bring unimaginable sorrow—even if you think it will incline the god to send rain? Wouldn’t it also make you hate that god? David won’t even speak the name of such a god.
The contrast here beteween the false gods and the true God is stark. David’s decision is not difficult.
Photo by Hari Perisetla on Unsplash
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