Photo by Serrah Galos.

Fearless Trust

Psalm 27 invites us to a glimpse of a well-worn, mature faith. These words are not those of one freshly afoot on the road of life with God. These words are the embodiment of the image of the tree in Psalm 1, a life firmly rooted in God, watered by past experiences of God’s salvation, by the promises and hope of what the Lord has said. David writes as one well-schooled in the art of trusting God.

Perhaps most striking about David’s assurance is that chaos seems to be the vantage point from which he prays. He describes his circumstances with images of vandal hordes descending and all hell breaking loose (vv.2-3). David’s increased depth of trust and hope in God has not resulted in a diminishing of the very real threats that plague him. But David’s trust has reframed everything. In the midst of this anarchy, David is “calm as a baby, collected and cool” (vv.2-3). 

There is something so radically this-worldly about the shape the hope Psalm 27 invites us into. The pain and the danger are real but so is the reality that God is inviting us into counter-rhythms that syncopate the cadences of chaos with order and beauty. Two important practices stand out within the context of the psalm. He writes in vv.4-5:

I’m asking God for one thing,
only one thing:
To live with him in his house
my whole life long.
I’ll contemplate his beauty;
I’ll study at his feet.

1. Contemplative Prayer

First, David invites us to the disciplines of contemplative prayer, silence and solitude. David’s world much, much like our own, moves at a frenzied pace. We are constantly being discipled by the antichrist rhythms of noise, notifications, news, and the normalization of violence. David knows that the only response is to retreat. A retreat not away from this world but a retreat into the refuge of God’s presence. Thomas Merton writes that when Christians forsake contemplation they substitute the “truth of life” for “fiction and mythology” bringing about the “alienation of the believer, so that his [sic] religious zeal becomes political fanaticism.”  David instead of leaning into the madness, embraces silence and solitude. He writes of the presence of God:

 That’s the only quiet, secure place
in a noisy world,
The perfect getaway,
far from the buzz of traffic.

2. Immersive Worship

Second, David immerses himself in worship both private and communal. Even on the way to church, he’s already singing his own songs:

I’m headed for his place to offer anthems
that will raise the roof!
Already I’m singing God-songs;
I’m making music to God.

Worship is the eruption of joy and gratitude, not a response fueled by emotivism, but a quiet resolve to contemplate what God has done and to voice heartfelt thanksgiving for it. Worship is the antidote to our own poisonous obsession with self, our propensity to live at the mercy of our circumstances and our ever-changing whims. Worship in the face of great trial is not a denial of our situation. Rather it is God’s invitation to to view the world from his own vantage point, to be with God and find that in all things he is drawing near to us.

This Exuberant Earth

David expresses one final plea, “You’ve always been right there for me; don’t turn your back on me now. Don’t throw me out, don’t abandon me; you’ve always kept the door open” (vv. 9-10). He asks for guidance, he needs God to show him the way. He writes:

Point me down your highway, God;
direct me along a well-lighted street;

And he ends his prayer in one final, resolved, steadfast, radically hopeful expression of trust. Again, what’s remarkable about this ending stanza is that this resolution is not reserved for another life. He finds hope right here in the midst of the confines of this world, this place, amongst these people and these circumstances. He knows that God won’t quit on him and so, grizzled veteran of faith and trust in God that he is, he won’t quit on God. He holds fast to the hope that God’s goodness will reveal itself again, right here in this “exuberant earth.” Don’t quit. God is faithful. In the beautiful translation of Eugene Peterson:

I’m sure now I’ll see God’s goodness
in the exuberant earth.
Stay with God!
Take heart. Don’t quit.
I’ll say it again:
Stay with God.

Read Psalm 25

Psalm 25 is an exercise in contrast. David is struggling, burdened by the consequences of his sin. The gravity of his guilt is like a millstone around his neck. He cries out :

Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of my heart, and bring me out of my distress. Consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.^[1]vv. 16-18

The consequences of his decisions have laid a heavy burden upon him. Crushed under the weight of his guilt, unable to move, David remembers another way. He considers the ways of the Lord:

Be mindful of your mercy, O LORD, and of your steadfast love, for they have been from of old.  Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness’ sake, O LORD!  Good and upright is the LORD; therefore he instructs sinners in the way.  He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way.  All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his decrees.^[2]vv.6-10

Maybe you have been here. Stuck, heavy-laden by the accumulation of your own sin. It’s an impossible place to be in. Walking through the world feels like you are walking on the ocean floor with intense pressure compressing your very soul. And its here at the moment when our soul feels the heaviest that its actually the lightest. David says:

To you, O Lord, I lift my soul.

Lifting our souls to God from the depths is not like Atlas lifting the world. In lifting our souls to God we find that the Lord is not a pallbearer struggling to hoist our unwieldy, oaken casket.  Rather, his mercy makes our struggles as light as a feather. He does not downplay our rebellions or make them out to be somehow less than they are. Rather, he exhausts them by taking the weight upon his shoulders, thus emptying sin of all its weight. We can lift our souls to the Lord when we can’t even lift one foot in front of the other because he has made known to us his ways, and his way is easy and his burden is light.

Lift Your Soul

Are you weary? Are you heavy laden? Does each day feel like you carry the weight of the world? Lift your soul to the God of your salvation. Wait on him.

Envision the route that you travel to church each week. Maybe you drive past suburban strip malls and dozens of other churches. Perhaps you navigate the subways, hoping not to see a rat playing on the tracks and hurrying past homeless people who somehow managed to survive another night. Now think about the space you meet in to worship. Perhaps you meet in a sleek, refurbished warehouse, maybe you meet in a school cafeteria or someone’s home. Maybe you even meet in a building that was designed for the sole purpose of being a church. Whether you travel by foot, car, or train and whether you meet in a comedy club or a traditional church building there is a striking dissonance that confronts us all as we enter the doors to worship.

The earth is the Lord’s and and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it.

This is the claim of Psalm 24. The worshipper, upon entering the temple of Solomon, hears this big opening chord resounding, inviting her to worship. But then she thinks about her journey, even to arrive at the temple. How could all of it, all of the things she has seen, all of the places she traversed, all of the people she crossed paths with—how could it all of it be the Lord’s? It doesn’t add up. Some of it seemed so mundane, some of it so painfully commercial, some of it just plain evil. And then the people. So many people going about their days, so many of them with no thought of God or existence. They belong to the Lord?

The world that we live in and the world of worship seem like two completely different worlds altogether. But there it is right there, the earth is the Lord’s, not some other place, not heaven, this place, this town, this neighborhood, these people.

So how do we begin to reconcile these two worlds? Psalm 24 presents us with a radical reorienting of our imagination and a subsequent way of walking in the world. First, we have to allow our imaginations to be recalibrated. The questions, presented in call-and-response fashion at the end of the psalm are not questions seeking an answer but rhetorical questions inviting remembrance. “Who is the King of glory?” Who is the king that can hold under his reign the world that we just walked through and the world of worship? Who is the king that doesn’t further separate them into secular and sacred but harmonizes them? The answer given is the same answer given to Moses when he asks the blazing bush, who should I say has sent me? The divine name—the Lord. To declare that the Lord is Lord of all of existence is not to exercise blind faith but to shape our imaginations to the mold of the kingdom. Worship is a discipline of seeing that changes the way we view everything.

Second, how do we live in a world such as this? When we walk out of the doors, squinting in the bright sunlight with our minds freshly challenged to see in a new way,does it change anything about how we actually live? The psalmist tell us that the ones who will stand in his holy place are those who “have clean hands and pure hearts, who do not lift up their souls to what is false, and do not swear deceitfully.” Many have thought clean hands and pure hearts required avoidance, like Pilate constantly washing his hands of the world. But Jesus shows us that the path towards purity of heart and hand is not avoidance, rather it is incarnation. Clean hands and pure hearts are not the product of avoiding stain from the world. They are hands that bear the scars of Jesus, the one who ascended the hill of the Lord, on behalf of the world. When we as Christians walk the world as he did, in love and in service, we live out of the overflow of the new imaginations shaped in corporate worship. We live out the declaration that the earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it when we see every corner of our lives “charged with the grandeur of the glory of God.”^[1]Gerard Manley Hopkins, God’s Grandeur. We live out that every person is beckoned by the freedom and love of God when we lift Jesus up and he draws all people to himself.^[2]John 12v32

The psalm invites us, lift up your head, that the King of Glory may come in. In worship we hear the call afresh, lift up your head, see the world as it really is. Stand in the holy place of God’s presence so that you might see all the world is infused with the glory of his Spirit.

The 23rd psalm is so simple in its beauty, so evocative in its imagery. For generations, it has inspired artists and comforted mourners. I want to connect this psalm with my reflections on Psalm 21 and Psalm 22. Psalm 21 is triumphant, God will demonstrate his power. Psalm 22 is apoplectic, “My God why have you forsaken me?” Psalm 22 screams the questions that Psalm 21 should rightfully raise, “Is God’s victory and hope certain even in the darkest moments of life?” In Psalm 23, the psalmist no longer has a voice to shout his objections in the assembly, rather he whispers them in sobs all alone in the dark. Psalm 23 takes the question, “How?”, to its fullest extent and in doing so gives us a glimpse into the heart of the Gospel of Jesus: “How does God keep his promises in the valley of the shadow of death?”

You see, the promises of God always run the risk of disintegrating into platitudes. Quasi-spiritual assurances like, “everything happens for a reason” or “God works everything for the good of those who love him” are nice and all but don’t do us a lot of good when we are lost in the abyss, traversing treacherous terrain, surrounded by predators, exhausted from walking and fear. Ideas are nice, they are content of faith, but in the face of certain death, I need more.

Enter Psalm 23. The psalmist proclaims, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.” He proclaims the tender care of the Lord in sustaining and guiding him. David expresses the innocent bliss of trusting in God to provide. But then, almost on a dime, he turns from the sunlight to the shadow. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley ^[1]I still like the feel of the  traditional translation “valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

Did you catch that? The question of God-forsakenness in Psalm 22 is given its free expression to deconstruct any notions of simplistic faith. What about the valley of the shadow death? Am I forsaken there? How are you going to keep your promises there? According to Psalm 23, God will not merely decree his will from far off in Heaven, he will not leave us to rest on cliches while we wallow in the darkness, he won’t even miraculously light up that darkness in a demonstration of sheer power. No, none of this will do. How will God keep his promises? He himself will come to us. He is right there, walking in he valley of the shadow of death as he walked in the Garden of Eden in the cool of the evening.

Psalm 23 doesn’t just tell us we are not abandoned, that we will not be forgotten or forsaken. It shows us. The Lord is our shepherd, we don’t have to be afraid not simply because he is powerful, good, full of justice and mercy. He of course is all of those things and more. We don’t have to be afraid because he is here. His rod, his staff, his table. Even in the darkest hour, he comes to us.

The juxtaposition between Psalm 21 and Psalm 22 could not be more striking. Look at the end of Ps. 21:

Be exalted, O Lord, in your strength! We will sing and praise your power.

Now read the beginning of Ps. 22:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? In many ways the bookends of these two psalms frame the Christian life.

Psalm 22 tests the integrity of the promises of Ps 21. It’s one thing to declare in the sanctuary that “your hand will find out all your enemies; your right hand will find out those who hate you” and another to be tortured mercilessly at the hands of those very same enemies. And the question the two psalms ask together, “Do these promises hold up in the darkest nights of the soul?” Psalm 22 moves us from the comfort of the congregation to the bloodthirsty chaos of a lynch mob. You can hear the thuggish mocking of the strong bulls ^[1]Psalm 22v12 and the ravenous lions ^[2]Psalm 22v13 surround our psalmist.

As the people who follow the crucified Jesus, we walk the line of trust and hope, resting in the promises of God and being literally God-abandoned, stretched to our breaking and pierced by this life.  If the promises of God are true, promises for life from barrenness, life from exile, life from death, then they have to be true in our moments of God-forsakenness.

This psalm contains such stunning poetry that finds its fullest manifestation in Jesus. As he is poured out like water, as his bones are jolted from their joints, and his heart melts like a candle that has been forgotten about, ultimately to be laid in the dust of death.^[3]Ps. 22vv14-18 is so hauntingly beautiful and bears witness to so much of the pain of life; Jesus holds on to the promise. He holds on to the promises of God that God will hear and save^[4]Ps. 22vv19-21, that the poor shall have their share ^[5]Ps. 22vv26, that the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the Lord like waters cover the seas ^[6]Ps. 22vv27-28, and that his arm is long enough to reach even to the grave ^[7]Ps. 22vv29-30.

The line between victory and utter defeat is  tear-soaked, blood-stained, anguish-ridden faith. Are the promises of God true? Ps. 21 says they are true in the congregation in the songs of the people of God. Ps. 22 says, yes, they are even true in the blackest night, in the curses of the enemies of God. The cross is simultaneously the place where all hope is lost and the only place that hope is possible. Jesus, holds onto the promises of God with nail-pierced hands, this is faith that proves God’s word true.

Strength, power, might. These are words that focus on assertion, establishing one’s dominion through rigorous training, subduing enemies, superior strategy, or just having bigger guns. The king in Israel was the tangible manifestation of the nation’s vitality. The king not only set the defense budget but led the troops into battle. It would be completely understandable and appropriate for the king to pray for specific things that the nation needed to be successful:  Dear Lord, please bring us faster horses, stronger armor, sharper arrows, favorable weather, and smarter soldiers. But his prayer here is not an itemized list of things you need to win at war. In fact there is no anxiety here about scarcity or uncertainty. In v. 8, the king shifts into the future tense, declaring—prophesying, really—what the Lord will do to the enemies of Israel.

Where does this confidence come from?

Simple. The king knows where his strength comes from and he knows the promises that the Lord has made to Israel. He proclaims to the congregation, “In your strength, the king rejoices, O Lord, and in your help how greatly he exults!”^[1]Psalm 21v1 If anyone in the nation of Israel could convince himself that the success or failure of the kingdom was all on his shoulders, it was certainly the king. When the nation first demanded for a king to lead them, Samuel warned them that the biggest danger is that the king would not put his trust in the Lord first. Here, we see the king, as proxy for the nation as a whole, placing his trust in the strength of the Lord. But it’s not just that the king trusts in the Lord, he knows the Lord and thus knows his mission in the world.

For the king trusts in the Lord, and through the steadfast love of the Most High he shall not be moved.^[2]Psalm 21v7

The monarch attributes everything that he has, his life, his strength, his glory to the Lord. And in that trust, he is secure knowing that the task that is before him is not his alone. God, in his hesed, his steadfast love to the people of Israel, will go before them. For us, this raises the obvious question, where does our trust reside? This is an important question and is foundational to a life with God. But beyond that, this psalm asks the question, what task are you undertaking that requires the kind of holy confidence on display in the words of the king. For the king, trust was a matter of life or death not just for him but for his entire kingdom. Accordingly, perhaps our faithfulness is not simply about us, but is a question of life or death for our families, our neighbors, and our cities.

If you were trying to reach a certain place in the world, you would chart a course (or more likely you would do what the voice on your phone tells you to do).  Much in the same way, the destinations of our lives determine the course of our lives.  Just as our journeys are shaped by our destination, our lives are shaped by our hopes.  David asks the Lord, “How long?”

For many of us when we consider our hopes and dreams, we think of the positive ends we want for our own lives, our careers, and our family.  But David’s hopes in Ps. 13 rise up from the pit of despair.   He doesn’t have time for goals and vision, he just needs God to show up, right now.  He needs God, not something that resembles him.^[1]C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

This psalm invites us in two directions.  First, we are to be people who pray this prayer on behalf of those who are in a situation similar to David’s.  David’s life is under the threat of imminent death.  He cries out in fear and in frustration, “How long until you fix this? Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death.”^[2]vv.1-3   Paul describes the very fabric of creation echoing the anguish of David’s prayers.^[3]Romans 8vv21-25  All around us, there are those praying, “How long until I see you?”  “How long until I am healed?” “How long until there is joy?” When we pray this psalm on behalf of our neighbors, we bear one another’s burdens and partner with God in their redemption and healing.

The second direction is more introspective.  What are you hoping for right now?  What’s the thing that seems to elude you, standing off in the distance just out of reach?  What direction is your life pointed towards?  Do you long with the aches of how long?  Do you long to see the Lord face to face?  Are your hopes heaven-shaped?  In the psalms, we are invited towards a reorientation of our whole lives.  Ps. 13 is shaping our hopes around the things of God, putting our own self-centered dreams through the fire of God’s desires and heart for the world.  What emerges from the furnace is a life of purified gold that seeks the Lord first and receives every gift from his hand with gratitude and worship.

For meditation:
-Where is God trying to reshape and reorient your longings?
-Who in your life do you need to cry out with in solidarity, “How long?”
-This prayer is a good spiritual discipline to apply when, as we so often are, you encounter overwhelming suffering and devastation.  When you are faced with the catastrophes of our world, train your immediate response to be a simple prayer:  how long?  This initiates us into the suffering of our world and orients our hopes towards the one who has overcome it.

Psalm 12 draws a sharp contrast between the words of the wicked and the words of the Lord.  The psalmist enters his plea into the courtroom in vv.1-3:

Help, O Lord, for there is no longer anyone who is godly: the faithful have disappeared from humankind.  They utter lies to each other with flattering lips and a double they heart they speak.

It’s interesting how the words of the ungodly are entered as articles of evidence against them.  Were we not always taught that “sticks and stones would break our bones but word would never hurt us?”  Notice also, these words are not spoken from within the circle of the ungodly to the oppressed masses, rather these are the words shared in conversation between the ungodly.  So why would a bunch of lies and empty flattery shared between people claiming to be friends be of any concern to the world at large?  I think the key is in v. 8b:

Vileness is exalted among humankind.

The words shared between the wicked are not the cause of the state of the world, rather they are the clearest evidence of the collective bent of the human heart.  Instead of focusing on the things that really matter, things like truth, beauty, justice, and love, people everywhere are focused on themselves, spending their time and their words on inanity and gossip.  The psalmist, like us, lives in a reality TV world where the conversations shared in polite society are the most damning evidence that the world has lost its mind.  Think about our own world.  Think about how much time we all spend on promoting a facade, think about how much mindless scrolling occupies the minutes, and seconds of our lives, think about a world where binge-watching is seen as almost a good.  We spend our days looking at screens which claim to be windows to the world at large, but what we find is that are merely mirrors reflecting back our hollow souls.^[1]The first episode in the Netflix series, Black Mirror, is a haunting depiction of our world.  In such a state, how could we have anything good to say?  It’s easier just to talk about ourselves.

In v. 5 it is the Lord who speaks:

Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now rise up, says the Lord.  I will place them in the safety for which they long.

The Lord speaks and he does not even address the words of the wicked.  Their words don’t even warrant consideration.  Rather he turns his words immediately to the poor.  The one’s who suffer physically in a world without any sense of meaning are always the marginalized.  But their suffering will not be ignored, it is their plight which rouses the Lord to action.  While the ungodly long for entertainment and to be lifted up, it is the longings of the poor, longings for safety and security which will be met by the Lord.  Jesus says it this way:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.  Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.  Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.^[2]Matthew 5vv3-12

For reflection:

-Spend time in silence away from any screens.  Read the psalm three times through and ask the Lord, “What are you trying to say to me?”
-How can you seek the beauty of the Lord in the entertainment that you enjoy?  How can you seek new revelations revealed in artistic works such as TV shows, movies, and music?  How can you glorify God in rest?
-What practices can you adopt to opt out of the cycle of empty talk and empty entertainment?

Verse for meditation:
Ps. 12v6:  The promises of the LORD are promises that are pure, silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times.

“If the foundations are destroyed what can the righteous do?” (v. 3).

David’s world is tearing at the seams.  The fabric of polite society, the ethos that upholds a peaceful and civil society has eroded. People are cruel and bombastic, without regard for human decency. Everywhere he looks there is more violence.  Snipers load their weapons and shoot indiscriminately into crowds of the innocent (v. 2).  David’s world sounds like hell.  What’s worse, David’s world sounds a lot like our own world a lot of the time.  And the temptation for David is no different than so many of us undoubtedly feel:  with all the darkness in the world should we just run and hide (v. 1)

Its unclear to me whether our own world is more saturated with fear, violence, and evil than ages prior but what I do know is that those of us in the western world who have smart phones in our pockets or computers in our house are more inundated with these images than ever before.  So how are we to respond when our eyes are constantly confronted with suffering and wickedness?  Surely we would rather just ignore it altogether.  Often we try to numb ourselves to the pain of our world by inundating ourselves with entertainment or mindless scrolling.  This is a form of flight.  But look again at what David says in v. 1:

1 In the LORD I take refuge; how can you say to me, “Flee like a bird to the mountains;

David is asking, “How can I run and hide when the Lord is my refuge?”  David is saying that his only recourse in this world of wickedness is to take refuge in the Lord.  He goes on to describe the certainty that the Lord will make it right, he will enact justice.  He chooses to stand and fight but not with his hands, but to entrust himself to God.  He implores God to act with urgency.  He prays.  Prayer is the battleground, the theater of the battle between good and evil and the Lord is inviting us into the fight.

For meditation:
What are your responses to injustice?
What would it look like to pray for God to act in these spaces?
How does this psalm instruct us to engage the news in our world?

“All their thoughts are, ‘There is no God.'”  This is the psalmist’s diagnosis of the most successful people in his world—a powerful group collectively called “the wicked”.  Hidden within this observation is a question:  “God, are you watching this?”  The psalmist continues, “Their ways prosper at all times; your judgments are on high, out of their sight; as for their foes…”  In other words, the psalmist is suggesting that something is getting lost in translation between the heavenly judgments of God and the facts on the ground.  It seems that the one’s who are getting ahead in our world those who are willing to climb on the backs of others.  The rich get richer at the expense of the poor and they think to themselves, “God has forgotten, he has hidden his face, he will never see it” (v. 11).

It is always tempting to take things at face value.  In our world, no different than the psalmists, it just seems like the good girls and guys can’t win.  But the psalmist counters the observations of his eyes with his expectant hope that God does in fact see the things that take place on the earth.  He sees and he cares deeply (v. 14).   And beyond that, he is able to judge rightly and bring about true justice.  The psalmist implores him to do so:

Break the arm of the wicked and evildoers; seek out their wickedness until you find none.

David asks the Lord to act and to disable those who oppressing their neighbors.  But at the close of this psalm, this is his only request.  Surrounding this imploring of God to act is theology.  Look at what he says in v. 14:

But you do see! Indeed you note trouble and grief, that you may take it into your hands; the helpless commit themselves to you; you have been the helper of the orphan.

And again in vv. 16-18:

The LORD is king forever and ever; the nations shall perish from his land.   Psa. 10:17    O LORD, you will hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear 18 to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.

Even though everything David sees would tell him, echoing Longfellow, “that hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men,” his faith tells him otherwise.  In order to combat injustice, we not only need righteous indignation we need deep theological reflection and prayer.  The psalms invite us to the intersection of this sort of rich theology and bold, unflinching prayer.  Jesus, in announcing the “Kingdom has come near” declares that through his power and life, that the justice of God is no longer a pipe dream but that the judgments of heaven have come to earth at last.