Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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How to Begin a Life of Praise, Part 2 

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Part 1 

Psalm 1 begins Israel’s book of praise by setting forth the way to think and walk in wisdom (Ps 1.1-3). But there’s another choice, a second stanza, and David makes the choice and its consequences clear. Parallel to his first stanza (see Part 1), he describes the person who chooses badly—though his description is brief (Ps 1.4)—and then he identifies the outcome of the choice. 

4 The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away. 5 Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous (Ps 1.4-5). 

Those who choose not to walk in wisdom, he says, are like chaff, or the worthless husk on grain. Chaff protects the grain during its development, but once you get to the eating stage, it’s just in the way. Every Israelite would be familiar with the process of harvesting grain: cutting, sheaving, threshing, winnowing. You cut the stalks and gather them into bundles for transport to the threshing floor, which is a flat stone surface. Using oxen, you pull a threshing sledge, constructed of heavy wooden beams in which perhaps bits of stone or metal are embedded, across the stalks until the straw is separated from the kernels. 

But now you have the husk problem. How do you get rid of them? Using a shovel or fork, you toss the grains into the air, where the breeze blows away the lightweight husks, leaving the kernels to fall back to the ground. 

Good riddance. 

That’s how David describes the ungodly. His son Solomon will later use a similar metaphor, describing all of life under the sun as “vanity and vexation of spirit”—or perhaps “chasing the wind” (Ec 1.14). 

There is, of course, a wrinkle here, one that David doesn’t state outright but that the rest of Scripture makes abundantly clear. 

Metaphors typically have just a single point of likeness; the thing you’re talking about and thing you’re comparing it to aren’t alike in every respect.

And so, in the contrast between the wise and the ungodly, huskhood need not be permanent. The ungodly can turn and choose to walk in the way of wisdom. Later in Scripture we learn that that’s called “repentance,” which, accompanied by faith, turns the sinner into a saint, the runaway into a child of God. 

For now, David’s not expounding on that. He lays out the two paths and thereby encourages us readers to choose wisely. 

In verse 5 he describes the end of the persistently ungodly. Judgment is coming, and it will not be pleasant. Again his implied appeal is just under the surface: don’t be a fool; don’t choose the evil path; turn and walk with the godly, whose end is glorious. 

David ends the psalm with a summarizing statement: 

6 For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish (Ps 1.6). 

There are two paths in life, with very different thinking and very different outcomes. One leads to life with our Creator; the other leads to destruction. 

Choose life. 

The next 149 psalms will develop this theme, as will Proverbs and the other Wisdom Books. Wisdom doesn’t require intelligence or good looks or money or a trophy wife. 

All it requires is noticing something that should be obvious. 

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How to Begin a Life of Praise, Part 1

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In recent months I’ve been working on memorizing key Psalms, those that seem particularly to speak to me. So far I’ve memorized 11 of the first 30, and I’ve found it exhilarating. 

We all know that the biblical book of Psalms is Israel’s hymnbook, consisting of 150 poems written by several authors, of whom David contributed the most. We also know that while we have the words, we don’t have the tunes; for some reason, ancient Israel didn’t see fit to record any of them, and I guess they didn’t have a music notation system—at not one that survived. And further, if you’ve memorized the words in English, it’s pretty certain that even if we knew the tunes, they wouldn’t match words that we could sing. 

But the words, which are inspired, are enough. 

The hymnbook begins, of course, with Psalm 1. Biblical scholars are all but certain that the Psalms were collected by later worship leaders, who organized them in ways they saw fit—they’re in 5 volumes—and many scholars think that Psalm 1 was placed first because it encapsulates or summarizes the following 149 pieces. It’s the place to start. 

The Psalm is pretty clearly organized into 2 stanzas, so I think I’ll cover it in 2 posts. 

The first 3 verses speak of the life of the godly person. Verses 1 and 2 describe him negatively, then positively, and then verse 3 identifies the consequences of his wise decisions. 

Who is the wise person? What is he not like, and what is he like? 

1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. 2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night (Ps 1.1-2). 

Well, he’s not like the ungodly. He doesn’t take their advice, nor hang out with them as though a companion, nor plant himself square in the middle of their worldview. Many students of Scripture have seen a progression in verse 1, and I think they’re right. He begins by walking alongside them, then stays with them when they get where they’re going, and eventually just grabs a chair and gets comfortable. 

We use the expression “He’s hanging out with the wrong crowd.” That’s this guy. And that’s not wisdom; it’s a foolish way to live. The wise man is not like that. 

Well, then, what is he like? 

He immerses himself in “the law of the Lord.” Now, to David that pretty clearly meant the Torah, the 5 books of Moses, which we call the Pentateuch. That’s nearly all the Scripture that David had in his day. 

He wanted to hear what God had to say, and to know it well—obviously, so he could do what it said. 

Now, I don’t think I’m abusing the text when I say that our wise thinking should include immersing ourselves in the Word that God has given us since David’s day. That’s why pastors urge us to be in the Word daily; that’s not a direct biblical command, but it certainly follows the mindset David sets forth here. Immersion, meditation, delight. 

In my experience, the Scripture is self-motivating: it may seem uninteresting in places—or even pretty much entirely—at first, but the more you invest in it, the more delight you find, and the more you love it. 

Most people don’t think that way. And that’s the point. 

So what happens when we do that? 

3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper (Ps 1.3). 

We are nourished; we are stable; we make a positive difference in this world, and that influence endures—it lasts longer than the typical fad. 

What does “whatsoever he doeth shall prosper” mean? Well, it clearly doesn’t mean that every godly person will be rich; the Scripture presents plenty of poor godly people without any sense of awkwardness or embarrassment. It doesn’t mean that all our dreams will be fulfilled; David himself evidences that. 

What is biblical “prospering,” anyway? It’s fulfilling God’s purpose for us as individuals—finding our providentially ordained place in this world and filling it well. With divine empowerment, we can do that. 

Next time: what if we choose the other path?

Part 2

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On Danger, Fear, and God’s Care

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We all face challenges. Some people face genuine dangers from genuine enemies. And most of them face fear. 

God doesn’t experience any of these things. He faces nothing that could be described as a challenge to his omnipotence, and though he has powerful enemies, he is greater than them all, and their defeat is sure. And consequently, he is never afraid. 

So how does someone like that respond to someone like us? Does he understand challenge, and enemies, and fear? Does he care? 

King David, who had plenty of challenges and enemies and fears, had some thoughts on that in many of his writings. Today I choose to consider Psalm 6. 

David is facing a fearsome trial. He mentions physical issues (Ps 6.2), but I’m inclined to think his real concern is “enemies” (Ps 6.7). He clearly thinks his life is in danger (Ps. 6.5). 

And so he meditates and writes out his thoughts. 

The Psalm has three sections. He begins by presenting his appeal to God (Ps 6.1-5); then he lays out the anguish that his situation is causing (Ps 6.6-7); and then he finishes by describing the assurance he has in God’s care and deliverance (Ps 6.8-10). 

Appeal (Ps 6.1-5) 

David begins by admitting—implicitly—that God has reason to be angry with him (Ps 6.1). He doesn’t go into detail. Here we see someone who is in the same situation we are: we need deliverance by God’s hand, but we know we don’t come to him from a position of strength. We need grace; we need mercy (Ps 6.2). 

David’s situation is desperate; he expresses himself in broken phrases, in grunts (Ps 6.3). Interestingly, Jesus appears to use David’s words as he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane (Jn 12.27) before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. 

David asks God to “turn” to him, as if he had turned away for some reason (Ps 6.4). The Hebrew word is shub, a word commonly used for turning from sin in repentance (e.g. Is 30.15; 44.22; 55.7). David asks God to change his mind. 

He cites two motivations for God to deliver him: God’s “mercies” (Ps 6.4), or hesed, and his glory (Ps 6.5)—that is, the thanksgiving he will receive for acting to deliver. 

Is that an appeal to some selfish motive in God? I don’t think so. First, God’s glory, unlike ours, is something actually deserved and appropriate; God is not like his limited creatures. And second, is there anything wrong with enjoying being thanked? Don’t we like to be thanked when we do something for someone we love? Is it selfish to revel in someone else’s joy? 

Anguish (Ps 6.6-7) 

David lays out the evidences of his anguish, which in turn is evidence of the seriousness of the danger he faces. 

  • He is exhausted by the constant pressure of the situation (Ps 6.6a). 
  • He weeps through the night (Ps 6.6b) 
  • His perspective is colored—poisoned—by the stress of the situation (Ps 6.7). 

Assurance (Ps 6.8-10)  

During his prayer, David receives assurance that the Lord has heard him and will answer (Ps 6.8-9). We don’t know exactly how this worked; it may be as simple as his believing God’s earlier promises to hear the prayers of his people (Ex 22.27), or knowing God’s character well enough to anticipate similar future promises (Is 65.24; Zec 13.9). 

For whatever reason, David knows. And so he begins to address his enemies directly, and he flips the situation against them. At the beginning of his prayer, he is the one who is deeply troubled (Ps 6.2); but now, his enemies find themselves in that situation (Ps 6.10). Earlier, he has asked God to turn, to change (Ps. 6.4); but now, he calls on his enemies to turn and change (Ps 6.10), with the same verb he used of God earlier. 

So what do we see here? 

  • God’s people call on him when they are afraid. 
  • He hears, even when they don’t “deserve” it. 
  • And he answers by reversing the situation, judging his enemies, and protecting his people. 

Timely advice whenever we’re afraid. 

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When You’re Really Scared, Part 4: Response

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Part 1: Background | Part 2: Panic | Part 3: Presence

Now David moves from God’s presence to God’s action. God is not just an observer here; he responds to what he sees.

David says that God distinguishes between his people and his enemies (“the wicked”), and he acts to accomplish different outcomes for the two groups. In the situations that frighten his people, he is “trying” us (Ps 11.5a)—not in the sense that he needs to know how things will turn out for us, or how we will respond to the fear; God is omniscient, and he doesn’t need to “find out” anything. No, he is putting us to the test in that sense that he is exercising us for our own betterment.

We all know how this works with athletes; a coach puts them through hard things to make them stronger, better athletes. So God exercises us with hard things, sometimes scary things, to make us stronger, more like his son. Paul talks about that process in Romans 5:

We glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; 4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3b-5).

Hardship brings endurance; endurance brings experience of success; experience of success brings confidence of success the next time.

So God’s intention for us is entirely benevolent, even when things are hard.

But for the wicked, things are very different. The hard things they experience are warnings of judgment, which they must anticipate.

Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone,
And an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup (Ps 11.6).

The word snares is a bit surprising; why would God rain down animal traps? Is he speaking of sending destructive things their way?

Could well be. But readers of the Hebrew text have noticed that if you swap a couple of vowels in the word for “snares” (pachim), you get a word that means “coals” (picham), which makes a lot more sense in the context of “fire and brimstone.” (And since the vowels in Hebrew weren’t written during biblical times, the distinction could have been unnoticed at the time.) Several of the modern English versions (e.g. CSB ESV NIV) render it that way.

This kind of fiery judgment is what awaits the wicked. It happened to Sodom and Gomorrah; it will be the end of Gog (Ezk 38.22), and of the beast of Revelation (Re 14.10), and of the devil (Re 20.10), and of the wicked at the Great White Throne (Re 21.8).

The KJV’s “horrible tempest” is a “raging wind,” raging especially in the sense of “hot.” Mediterranean peoples are well aware of the sirocco, which blows sand from North Africa across the Mediterranean Basin. It’s hot, biting, and destructive to crops as well as just generally unpleasant.

In another Psalm, the same David writes,

If a man does not repent, God will whet his sword; he has bent and readied his bow (Ps 7.12).

It turns out that David’s enemies aren’t the only ones flexing a bow (Ps 11.2).

But David notes that God is not all anger. He is also love—and he loves his people thoroughly, truly, and perfectly.

For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness;
His countenance doth behold the upright (Ps 11.7).

The second line reads in Hebrew, “the upright shall behold his face.”

The Lord told Moses that no one could see his face and live. Moses was allowed to see his “back” (Ex 33.23).

But we have seen the glory of God in the face of Christ (2Co 4.6), and one day we shall see his face (Re 22.4).

David said in yet another psalm,

One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after;
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple (Ps 27.4).

May it be so for us all.

Fear not.

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When You’re Really Scared, Part 3: Presence

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Part 1: Background | Part 2: Panic

Verse 4 is the pivot point of Psalm 11. David has heard the warnings of his advisers, including the panic in their voices. Now it’s time for him to respond.

It’s important to note that David never denies the truth of what they are telling him. He never says, “There are no enemies; they’re not planning evil against me; you guys are just seeing things.” He has enough experience with opposition to know that what they’re saying is very likely true.

But he doesn’t take their advice, either. He doesn’t panic; he doesn’t run. And we should expect that of him, for he’s begun the psalm with his thesis statement, his life principle:

In the LORD have I put my trust (Ps 11.1).

Now he’s going to flesh out that principle.

4The LORD is in his holy temple,
The LORD’s throne is in heaven:
His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men (Ps 11.4).

Notice how the LORD’s name begins the first two lines. Readers of the Hebrew would say the name is “fronted”; it’s pushed forward in the sentence into an emphatic position. In English we would italicize or underline or circle it; if we said it out loud, we would punch the volume when we spoke his name.

This isn’t Baal or Chemosh or Dagon in the temple, or any of the gods of the other nations, who cannot see or speak or act in response to the prayers of their devotees. No. This is Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God, the one true God.

This is—and I say this reverently—the Real Deal.

And he is in his temple. Not just any temple, mind you, like the one Samson pushed down with his two hands. This is the holy temple.

At its most basic, the word holy means “unique,” “one of a kind,” “in a class by itself.” The LORD’s temple is like no other. Some four centuries later the prophet Habakkuk will quote this line of the psalm and add a line of his own to emphasize the necessary response to the holiness of this temple:

Let all the earth keep silence before him (Hab 2.20).

And so the enemies pale into insignificance. What possible threat can they be, here under the shadow of the Almighty?

Now David adds another line, another consideration:

The LORD’s throne is in heaven.

The LORD has the high ground.

A military veteran like David knows that the high ground is a significant tactical advantage. From the high ground you can see farther than your attackers, who are below you, can see. You can see where the enemy is, and you can shoot down on him, the force of gravity adding to the force of your spears and arrows and slingstones. You have all the advantages.

The LORD has the high ground.

Now, the ironic thing about that is that the LORD doesn’t need the high ground. In the light of his omnipotence, the enemy is insignificant, trivial. The battle is not close enough for any tactical advantage to throw the outcome to one side or the other.

But he does have the high ground.

And so, David continues,

His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men.

He sees. He knows. He notices.

Nothing escapes him.

You can do that from the high ground. Or even better with omniscience.

God would later tell Judah’s King Jehoshaphat,

The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to shew himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him (2Ch 16.9a).

He knows who his people are, and he doesn’t just watch their battles play out; he takes action on their behalf. He knows as well who the enemy is; the foe is located, recognized, identified, and opposed.

What will he do next?

Next time.

Part 4: Response

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When You’re Really Scared, Part 2: Panic

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Part 1: Background

David begins with his thesis statement in verse 1. I’ll get to that eventually, but first I’d like to take a look at what his advisors are telling him.

They begin with the action item: Run!

Flee as a bird to your mountain! (Ps 11.1b).

They’re going to explain the danger in a minute, but it’s as if they need to call for action immediately—as if they’re in a panic. That idea is reinforced by their simile; birds skedaddle in a hurry. And where should the bird that is David skedaddle to? A mountain, a place of strength, high ground, with a tactical military advantage.

David knows about fleeing like a bird. The second time that he confronts Saul and refuses to harm him, he describes the king as “one who hunts a partridge in the mountains” (1S 26.20). He also knows about taking refuge in a mountain; earlier in his flight from Saul, he “lived in the strongholds of Engedi” (1S 23.29). Many scholars think this refers to Masada, the mesa-top fortress used as a refuge through the years of Roman domination around the time of Christ.

Now his advisors give him the reason: You’re in immediate danger!

For, lo, the wicked bend their bow,
They make ready their arrow upon the string,
That they may privily shoot at the upright in heart (Ps 11.2).

Here’s another sign of panic: Lo! Look! Pay attention! This is serious!

The wicked, David’s enemies, are “stepping on the bow”—that’s the literal Hebrew—and they’re notching the arrow. In modern terms, they’re pulling back the hammer, they’re racking the round. This is an act of naked aggression, and evidence that they mean to harm him.

And they’re preparing to shoot “privily.” This is an Elizabethan-era word that means “secretly.” ESV renders it “in the dark”; CSB and NIV render it “from the shadows.”

This is an ambush, a sneak attack. You may not be able to see them just yet, but the threat is real and imminent. This is no idle threat, and it’s certainly no joke.

David’s advisors wrap up their presentation with an assessment: It’s hopeless!

If the foundations be destroyed,
What can the righteous do? (Ps 11.3).

This is a scream, a cry of despair. AAAAGGGGGHHHH!

I’ve seen this verse used fairly frequently by Christians who mean it as a warning against apathy and complacency, a call for alertness and stewardship in the face of danger. I once spoke at a Christian school convention that chose this verse as their organizing theme that year.

I wouldn’t deny that the Scripture calls God’s people to alertness, to stewardship. God called Nehemiah to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, and for much of the construction period the workers labored with a sword hanging from their belt, because of the imminent threat from the enemies of Israel (Ne 4.18). David himself chided Saul’s bodyguard for sleeping on duty during that second confrontation (1S 26.15-16). Paul tells Christians to “walk circumspectly [looking around], not as fools, but as wise” (Ep 5.15). Jesus himself repeatedly commanded his disciples to watch, to be alert (Mt 24.42; 25.13; Mk 13.37) and chided them when they didn’t (Mt 26.38-41).

But this is a different context, making a different point entirely. My friends at the conference were using the words of the godless to motivate the godly.

And David’s response to them tells us that. To this point I’ve skipped most of verse 1; it’s time to recall it here. David says to his advisors, “How can you even say this to me?! What are you thinking?! I have put my trust in the LORD! He is my refuge! How can I seek another?”

Of what use is a rocky Judean mesa when the Almighty God is your protector?

Here, halfway through the psalm, we already know where David is headed. We’ll see him develop his thesis more thoroughly in the next post.

Part 3: Presence | Part 4: Response

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When You’re Really Scared, Part 1: Background

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Last week I preached on Psalm 11 in my school’s chapel service. Since this passage of Scripture is clear, counterintuitive, and timely, I’d like to repurpose the message here.

What do you do when you’re really, really scared? Everybody gets scared; that’s no evidence of cowardice. The key is how you respond to being scared—and how you respond depends primarily on your worldview, specifically what you believe about God.

The Psalm reads as follows:

1      In the Lord put I my trust:


How say ye to my soul,
Flee as a bird to your mountain?
2      For, lo, the wicked bend their bow,
They make ready their arrow upon the string,
That they may privily shoot at the upright in heart.
3      If the foundations be destroyed,
What can the righteous do?


4      The Lord is in his holy temple,
The Lord’s throne is in heaven:
His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men.
5      The Lord trieth the righteous:
But the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6      Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone,|
And an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
7      For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness;
His countenance doth behold the upright. (KJV)

I’ve inserted vertical space to show the psalm’s three divisions: the opening thesis statement (Ps 11.1a), David’s report of the advice he’s getting (Ps 11.1b-3), and then his response to that advice with wisdom of his own. But we should begin by trying to figure out the historical context—why he’s getting the advice in the first place.

His advisors tell him that he’s in danger, that he has enemies who want to kill him. Anyone who knows the story of David knows that there were many times in his life when that would have been the case. Long before he became king, the nation’s prophet, Samuel, anointed him for kingship (1S 16.13)—while Saul was still king, and while this king was planning to have his son Jonathan succeed him (1S 20.30-31). We know that Saul pursued David for a decade, seeking to eliminate him as a claimant to the throne—during which time, ironically, David expressed no interest in seizing the throne and even passed up multiple opportunities to do so. On at least two occasions (1S 24.1-4; 26.3-12) Saul was within a few feet of David, unawares, and David was in a position to kill him on the spot.

This psalm could well have been written at almost any time during those final years of Saul’s reign.

We also know that David faced a rebellion from one of his sons, Absalom, which led to civil war, with David and his closest advisors being exiled from Jerusalem (2S 15.10-16) and from Israel (2S 17.22-24), to seek refuge across the Jordan River in northern Ammon.

The psalm could well spring from that period as well. While we can’t place it more narrowly than that, we can note that David was someone who knew what he was talking about when he spoke to personal physical danger; his experience made him a much more reliable judge of both the danger he faced, and an appropriate response to it, than his advisors were. Even if he weren’t inspired, he’d be well worth listening to.

Next time we’ll look at the psalm’s first stanza, which reports the counsel of his advisors; in the third post, we’ll consider the second stanza, in which he responds to them.

Part 2: Panic | Part 3: Presence | Part 4: Response

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Even Though, Part 6: But …

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Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action | Part 4: Responding with Praise | Part 5: A Case Study

To this point in Psalm 89, the psalmist, Ethan the Ezrahite, has been recounting God’s faithfulness. That’s all well and good when things are proceeding smoothly—when David or his descendants are on the throne. There’s reason to mourn when those descendants lapse into sin or rule unwisely, of course, but the line is intact, and the promises appear to be in a position to be fulfilled. Great.

But in Ethan’s day things had taken a turn. Our knowledge of the specifics is hampered by the fact that we don’t know exactly when Ethan lived; as I noted in the first post in this series, he’s mentioned in Kings, which was likely written during the Babylonian Exile, so he could have lived anytime up to that time period.

He describes God’s “casting” of the king’s “crown” “to the ground” (Ps 89.39b) and bringing “his strongholds to ruin” (Ps 89.40). This is certainly an apt description of Nebuchadnezzar’s sacking of Jerusalem.  He even says that God has “made void the covenant of [his] servant” (Ps 89.39a), which sounds a lot like God’s curse on Coniah, mentioned in the previous post.

Is the promise to David void? Has God not kept his word?

God had said that he would discipline any Davidic king’s disobedience (Ps 89.30-32). In that sense, the promise could be temporarily conditional—as odd as that sounds. But the covenant does continue (Ps 89.33); in the end, it is monergistic, not synergistic. Hosea, writing centuries earlier, had guaranteed the promise (Ho 3.4-5), and Ezekiel, writing from exile in Babylon, doubles down on it as well (Ezk 37.24-28). One commentator writes, “The promises had not failed but human understanding of God’s time-scale and of the complexity of his world-rule was not sufficient to keep step with what he was doing” (DA Carson et al., eds., New Bible Commentary, 4th ed. [Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 1994], 544). Jesus Christ—Joseph’s adopted Son—was presented in AD 30, reigns in heaven today (Heb 1.3-4), and will reclaim David’s earthly throne in God’s good time (Rev 20.4-6).

Unaware of most of this, the psalmist turns to a plea for deliverance:

46 How long, LORD? wilt thou hide thyself for ever? shall thy wrath burn like fire? 47 Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all men in vain? 48 What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave? Selah. 49 Lord, where are thy former lovingkindnesses, which thou swarest unto David in thy truth? 50 Remember, Lord, the reproach of thy servants; how I do bear in my bosom the reproach of all the mighty people; 51 Wherewith thine enemies have reproached, O LORD; wherewith they have reproached the footsteps of thine anointed (Ps 89.46-51).

He asks the Lord to ”remember” (Ps 89.47). As I’ve written before, remembering in the Bible isn’t what we think of when we use the word; it’s not related to the power of our intellect so much as to our desire to place our thoughts on something. God obviously doesn’t “forget” things—where he put his house keys, or whatever—because he can’t; he’s omniscient. But he does choose to place his thoughts on things: he refuses to think on our sins (Jer 31.34) and chooses to think on his promises to his people (Ex 2.24).

It’s in this spirit that Ethan asks God to remember the vulnerability of his servants and his promises to their ancestors. This is an eminently reasonable request, for it calls on the very core of God’s nature as a keeper of covenants.

We can do the same.

Ethan ends the psalm with a simple declaration, one that testifies to his faith in the goodness and faithfulness of God: Blessed be the LORD for evermore. Amen, and Amen (Ps 89.52).

Even though.

Indeed.

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Even Though, Part 5: A Case Study

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Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action | Part 4: Responding with Praise

The psalmist has demonstrated God’s goodness through general revelation—specifically, what it teaches us about God’s person and works. Now he turns to special revelation—the story of how God has revealed himself to just one of his servants by choosing, blessing, and speaking to him.

The previous section, discussed in the previous post, ends by saying, “Our king [belongs] to the Holy One of Israel” (Ps 89.18 ESV). This statement naturally calls to the psalmist’s mind Israel’s greatest king, the patriarch of the nation’s defining dynasty. God, says the psalmist, has specially revealed himself as good through his dealings with David.

Powerful

God chooses David as a particular recipient of his power: “Mine arm also shall strengthen him” (Ps 89.21); “I will beat down his foes before his face, and plague them that hate him” (Ps 89.23); “In my name shall his horn be exalted. 25 I will set his hand also in the sea, and his right hand in the rivers” (Ps 89.24-25).

Before God was finished, David’s kingdom spread from the Mediterranean Sea in the west toward the Euphrates River in the north and beyond the Jordan River and the Dead Sea in the east. And God is here demonstrating not only his power, but his faithfulness; these boundaries recall his much earlier promise to Abraham (Gen 15.18) and to Moses (Ex 23.31).

Personal

26 He shall cry unto me, Thou art my father, my God, and the rock of my salvation. 27 Also I will make him my firstborn, higher than the kings of the earth (Ps 89.26-27).

God establishes a family relationship with David; Israel’s king is not only a worshiper and a servant, but a son—and a firstborn son at that.

The firstborn son had privileges in the family. Upon the father’s death, the firstborn son received a double portion of the inheritance, and he became the family’s patriarch in the place of the father. Now, if God is the father, he’s not going to die, and those provisions will never be placed into effect. But the place of the firstborn is the honored place.

The position did not need to follow biological birth order; God chose Jacob over Esau (Ro 9.12-13), and Jacob chose Joseph’s sons over Reuben (Ge 49.3-4, 22-26), and of Joseph’s sons he preferred Ephraim over Manasseh (Ge 48.14-20). Here David is the youngest of Jesse’s sons, but he is the ranking one of God’s chosen.

Permanent

We all know that David is not the end of this story; after him God chooses Solomon (2S 7.12-15), and by the end of that conversation we realize that this isn’t really about Solomon either; David will have a Greater Son who will reign forever; of his kingdom there shall be no end (2S 7.16; Is 9.6; 11.1, 10).

The psalmist recounts this part of the promise as well. David’s line will endure forever (Ps 89.4, 29, 36, 37).

Now, there hasn’t been a king on the throne of David since Judah’s exile to Babylon in 586 BC. Even after Judah returned from exile under Zerubbabel, the grandson of the last king, he was not king in his own right—most obviously because the Persians were in charge, but more importantly because God had cursed David’s line in Coniah and all his descendants (Je 22.24-28).

I’ve written elsewhere on this conundrum of providence. The curse is bypassed when Joseph, the cursed heir to Coniah’s throne, adopts the virgin-born son of Mary, conferring on him the legal claim to the throne but without the biological curse.

So Jesus the Christ becomes David’s Greater Son.

When did he begin to reign?

Theologians debate that; there are the Covenant Theologians and the Dispensationalists (Classic and Progressive), and that battle will end only when Christ visibly makes the answer obvious.

But no one will doubt when the trumpet sounds and the pronouncement echoes across the halls of the universe,

The kingdoms of this world are become the Kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ! And he shall reign forever and ever! (Re 11.15).

It is done (Re 21.6).

Hallelujah! (Re 19.4).

The psalmist is not finished. We’ll continue next time.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Even Though, Part 4: Responding with Praise

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Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action

Ethan the Ezrahite has outlined the ways that God’s revelation of himself in creation has proclaimed both his personal characteristics and his powerful works. As he meditates on these things, he sees only one appropriate response, and he calls us to it.

That response is praise.

The psalmist writes,

15 Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound: they shall walk, O LORD, in the light of thy countenance. 16 In thy name shall they rejoice all the day: and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted. 17 For thou art the glory of their strength: and in thy favour our horn shall be exalted. 18 For the LORD is our defence; and the Holy One of Israel is our king (Ps 89.15-18).

God’s people, those created in his image and protected by his mighty arm, those who see his power projected over all creation, his ability to protect and defend them in any way needed, those people respond instinctively, exuberantly, with praise, with a “joyful sound” (KJV NASB), with a “festal shout” (ESV). The psalmist speaks implicitly of the celebration at Israel’s great feasts—

  • Passover, which celebrates Israel’s deliverance from Egypt;
  • Pentecost, which celebrates the early summer harvest;
  • Tabernacles, which celebrates God’s provision for the Israelites during the wilderness wanderings, and which, because of its seasonal timing, became a celebration of the year’s final harvest, a kind of Israelite Thanksgiving.

Of particular interest is the Feast of Trumpets, which began with a blast on the ram’s horns (Lev 23.23-25).

God’s people would respond to his goodness, his power, his provision, his appointed times of rest and celebration, with a joyful sound, a festal shout, as they walked in the light of his face turned toward them in grace.

They rejoice in his name (Ps 89.16)—in names that tell

  • of his might as a soldier defending them (El Gibbor and El Shaddai, the Mighty God);
  • of his exaltation above all their enemies (El Elyon, the Most High God);
  • of his everlasting life and presence (El Olam, the Everlasting God);
  • and most especially of his personal, living covenant relationship with his beloved people (Yahweh, “I Am”).

And they are exalted by his righteousness, which he graciously imparts to them through the sacrificial intervention of a substitute (Ex 12.27). Their strength—in battles, in difficulties, in daily life—are based in his strength (Ps 89.17), given freely to them.

Because he is gracious, generous, and good to them, they can be strong in battle, both offensively (KJV “our horn shall be exalted,” Ps 89.17) and defensively (NASB ESV NIV “our shield belongs to the LORD,” Ps 89.18). Their king, who leads them into battle, belongs to the Holy (unique, unparalleled) One of Israel (Ps 89.18b NASB ESV CSB NIV).

What other response to such a God can be imagined? What praise can possibly meet the appropriate standard for such unmeasured grace?

As a species we are too slow to recognize grace, too quick to embrace dissatisfaction or injustice—real or imagined—and too shallow and begrudging in our offering of thanksgiving. The old gospel song urges us to “count [our] blessings, name them one by one,” but we often cast aside that census as easily as we have cast aside the song.

Many years ago, when I was in college, someone encouraged me to devote a session of prayer just to thanksgiving, without asking for anything. I went down to a prayer room that the university provided in my dorm, got down on my knees and began to recall and recount the many ways God had been good to me. I kept thinking of more things, and more things, and when I wrapped up the session, I was astonished to see that I’d been at it for an hour. I don’t think I’d ever prayed for an hour before.

That experience made an impression on me—not least because I kept thinking of things I’d left out.

To this day I keep a list of God’s graces in my life—physical, circumstantial, providential, spiritual—and I recall a few of them every day during my prayer time. My life hasn’t been a bed of roses by any means—though a lot of my friends are facing deeper waters than I ever have—but I’ve found that a daily routine of gratitude makes a huge difference in my attitude, my joy, my approach to the day’s challenges, and, as many are talking about these days, my mental health.

Know the joyful sound. Walk in the light of his countenance.

Shalom.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash