Psalm 103, again, repeatedly calls God’s people to bless him for who he is and what he has done. It speaks of God’s love and compassion. But the psalmist also declares—three times—that God’s love and compassion is for those who “fear” him. The fear of God is an important biblical theme, especially in the Old Testament. But how can we understand it, without losing hold of our understanding of God’s grace and mercy?
Psalm 103 is a summons to bless God; the invitation is issued a full six times. We are to bless God not just for what he’s done, but for who he is. Thinking back to God’s words to Moses after the disastrous episode with Aaron and the Golden Calf, the psalmist calls us to remember how God is merciful, gracious, and slow to anger.
Earlier, we took a close look at Psalm 104—a “creation psalm” that begins and ends with the phrase, “Bless the Lord, my soul” and then adds, “Hallelujah.” That may be the last word of the psalm, but it’s the first “hallelujah” in the Psalter. In this episode, we take a step back to examine Psalm 103—which reads like a prequel to Psalm 104 and gives the reader even more reasons to bless God.
Psalm 23 is known as the Shepherd Psalm for an obvious reason. But the relationship between a sheep and a shepherd is not the only metaphor the psalmist uses to portray our relationship to God. We are not just lowly sheep; by the end of the psalm we are honored guests at a banquet given by God. And why? So that all the world can see who really is the one true God.
The year 2020 was one of the most difficult of my life, as it was for some of you. At times, it felt like a long, dark valley. But as Psalm 23 suggests, even though we as sheep must travel through such dark places, we can trust that the Shepherd knows where to lead us. We don’t need to fear, as long as we are in the Shepherd’s company.
In our world of ubiquitous advertising, it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference between a “want” and a “need.” Our homes may be filled with things we thought we needed but never use. The world of the psalmist is simpler, and so is the life of a sheep, as it’s portrayed in Psalm 23. If we’re going to own our sheepishness, are we willing to explore how the things that we really need are the things provided by the divine Shepherd?
Sheep are sometimes characterized as stupid; when we talk about people as being “sheep,” we mean that they are mindlessly following some leader. But sheep deserve more credit. True, they’re capable of straying. But they’re also capable of having a relationship of trust with a shepherd. Psalm 23, the so-called Shepherd Psalm, is one of the best-known and most beloved of the psalms. If we want to understand it, we will need to admit the ways in which we are like sheep.
If Psalms 104 and 8 celebrate the wonders of God’s creation, Psalm 139 celebrates the wonder of being created human. We don’t typically wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and see someone who is “fearfully and wonderfully made.” But what if we did? What if we saw ourselves and others as being created in God’s image and took that vocation seriously?
As suggested in the previous episode, the psalmist who wrote Psalm 139 marvels at the knowledge of being God’s handiwork. Moreover, the psalmist lives with a deep sense of God’s presence. The psalmist isn’t trying to run or hide from God’s presence, but instead is amazed at the constancy of it, and is secure in God’s love and care.
Even when we’ve been taught to be “nice,” we sometimes get carried away with negative emotion and speak without thinking. As we’ve seen, Psalm 139 contains some rather vehement words of hatred. But the psalmist also lives with a deep sense of being known intimately by God. What would happen if we were able to envision Jesus standing next to us as we speak?
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus confronts what his hearers have been taught. While they had been told to love their neighbor and hate their enemy, Jesus taught them to love their enemies instead. Nowhere in Scripture are God’s people taught to hate their enemies—but Psalm 139 comes close. So are we justified in our anger or not?
When we come to church to worship and sing, we expect to be uplifted and encouraged. When we interact with others, we follow an implicit rule of niceness. But some psalms contain brutal words of cursing and hatred. Psalm 139 is one such psalm—and the cursing comes in the context of some of the most beautiful words of humility and praise in Scripture.
Many Christians suffer from self-doubt, from a sense of somehow “not being enough.” And in a culture of shame, the words of Psalm 8, wondering why God should even pay attention to human beings, can sound timid or belittling. But the psalmist isn’t done. Human beings may seem small compared to the vastness of the universe, but God has made them to be vice-regents (co-rulers, if you will) over creation. Psalm 8 should teach us humility rather than shame.
We may be used to speaking of creation as the work of God’s hands—or even “hand” in the singular. We never say that it’s the work of God’s “fingers.” But that’s how Psalm 8 reads. It’s an image of meticulous craftmanship, applied not only to the moon and stars, but to human beings. Might we see ourselves and others as bearing God’s fingerprints?
Like Psalm 104, Psalm 8 is a “creation psalm,” a psalm of praise for the marvels of creation and its Creator. Imagine the psalmist gazing up into the heavens on a clear night, in a day before the perpetual haze of city lights existed. Awed by the vast spectacle of the night sky, the psalmist felt small by comparison—which made the psalmist marvel even more that God would pay attention to human beings.
As suggested before, there are psalms of praise and psalms of lament, and we don’t have far to look to find the latter. Psalms 1 and 2 are foundational in different ways. Then Psalms 3 to 7 give us five straight prayers for help. Then comes Psalm 8, which begins and ends on the same note: praising God for the majesty of his name.
Psalm 104, as we’ve seen, gives a worshipful portrait of God as the one who both creates all that is and then cares for his creation. But seemingly out of the blue, in the midst of rejoicing and praise, the psalmist blurts out one line of cursing. How might we understand these words, which seem so out of place?
We live in a world in which the stereotypical understanding of power doesn’t include care. But that’s not the psalmist’s understanding of God. Psalm 104 begins with a portrait of the unimaginable cosmic might of the Creator—but then also portrays God as being intimately involved in caring for his creation. It’s an image that Jesus would later use to teach his hearers to trust God.
Studying the Psalms can give us some much-needed perspective. Through them, we learn to see a bigger picture of life. Psalms 1 and 119 help us see the world as the psalmists do—and so does Psalm 104. If Psalm 119 is an ode to Torah, Psalm 104 is an ode to creation and its Creator, one that teaches us what it means to declare, “Hallelujah!”
Remember Psalm 1? That psalm taught us that there are two paths in life, one of righteousness and blessing, and the other of wickedness and destruction. The way of blessedness comes through meditation on Torah . In that sense, we might think of Psalm 119 as the sequel to Psalm 1—but one that introduces a realistic perspective that laments how even those who are devoted to Torah still suffer.
Understanding Psalm 119 requires appreciating its artistry. The structure is complex and would be difficult for any poet to achieve. But that complexity serves a symbolic purpose, contributing to the psalm’s message: God’s Law— Torah —applies to all of life, and is so foundational that we should be devoted to learning like we would learn our ABC’s.
Sometimes, as Christians, we prioritize the New Testament in a way that doesn’t properly understand or respect the Old. We may stereotype the Old Testament as being about law, and the New Testament about grace. When we think that way, Psalm 119—the longest psalm and the longest chapter in the Bible!—may seem odd. The psalmist goes on and on about loving God’s Law. If we’re going to appreciate the psalm, we’ll need to understand why it’s so long…
Psalm 30 is not a simple story of hope, as if the psalmist merely fell ill and was healed. The background story is complex enough to be worthy of memoir. Our own stories are similarly complicated. To be hopeful is not simply to expect that God will fix what’s wrong with our stories; it’s knowing that our stories are part of God’s story.
When we face serious ongoing challenges, we feel the need for hope, and the Psalms can help. But we can do more than just turn to the Psalms for a spiritual pep talk; we can learn how the psalmists see life. We’ll explore that theme using Psalm 30 as an example; it’s a song of hope by someone who was ill but by the grace of God recovered.
In the so-called Beatitudes at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.” It’s a quote from Psalm 37. But what does it mean to be “meek”? The word the psalmist uses is an important one, and it doesn’t mean what we usually mean by meekness.
Psalm 37 raises the question of why the wicked seems to prosper, contradicting the worldview of Psalm 1. It seems unfair. The psalmist tells God’s people not to fret or get angry, but to wait, to be patient, to be still. But can we really do this? What does the psalmist mean by patience and stillness?
Psalm 1 seems to promise that anyone who is obedient to God’s Law ( Torah ) will live a blessed and fruitful life. But things don’t always work out that way; sometimes, it’s the wicked who prosper and the righteous who suffer. That disconnect is the subject of Psalm 37, which was written to teach God’s people wisdom. Don’t fret, the psalmist says, even when things seem out of joint. You will still have your inheritance.
If you were given the task of organizing 150 psalms into a collection, where would you begin? What psalm would you put first? Psalm 1 is the first psalm for a reason. In a mere six verses, it sets forth a foundational worldview that permeates the whole collection: in life, there are two paths from which to choose. One is the path of righteousness that leads to blessing; the other is the path of wickedness that leads to destruction. Which path will God’s people choose?
Some psalms are songs or poems of praise; others are songs of lament or complaint. And often, both praise and lament are woven together in the same psalm. Psalm 95 is a case in point. If the first part of the psalm is a call to worship, the second is a call to listen to God’s voice—a call that is given against the background of a history of the disobedience of God’s people.
Where should we begin our exploration of 150 psalms? We’ll come back to Psalm 1 soon, but here, we’ll begin with Psalm 95. It’s a short psalm that illustrates well some of the elements we’ll see in other psalms. And if you’re used to singing contemporary praise choruses on Sunday morning, some of the psalm should sound quite familiar…
