Ending the Wickedness of the Wicked: What Christians Miss in Psalm 7

 

PLEASE PIN THIS IMAGE - The real meaning of Psalm 7.

What is the true meaning of Psalm 7? If you’ve been following my ongoing study of the book of Psalms, then you can surmise that between the English translations (yes, even The Message) and our general ignorance of ancient Near East culture, the seventh Psalm contains theological gleanings that the vast majority of Christians never pick up.

In fact, though on its surface it sounds like a simple cry for help, it’s actually a sophisticated legal document, a raw emotional outpouring, and a masterpiece of ancient poetry all rolled into one.

If I’ve intrigued you, grab your Bible and read each verse as we unpack the hidden nuances of Psalm 7.

A what?

Like many psalms, the seventh one begins with a superscription, or explanation before the actual piece. This one says, “A Shiggaion of David, which he sang to the Lord concerning the words of Cush, a Benjaminite.”

Right away, if you knew Hebrew, you’d realize that Psalm 7 isn’t your typical psalm. Scholars believe that the word shiggaion refers to a wild, emotionally intense song, suggesting it may have been written with an irregular meter or as a passionate outcry.

This sets the tone for everything that follows. David is pouring out his heart in spiritual catharsis, responding to false accusations from a dude named Cush.

The cry of every human heart.

The first two verses state, “O Lord my God, in You I put my trust; save me from all those who persecute me, and deliver me, lest they tear me like a lion, rending me to pieces, while there is none to deliver.”

I think I have previously touched on the fact that when ancient Israelites used the phrase, Yahweh Elohai – Lord my God – they were using covenant language.

They were bringing up God’s legal duty to them; in this case, David is saying, “You are bound by covenant to protect me.”

Probably every one of my readers can relate to the fear evoked by David’s image of being torn apart as by a lion. However, the ancient understanding goes deeper than personal attack or destruction. The underlying meaning is that the cosmic order is endangered, in which the innocent will be devoured if God doesn’t take action.

“Did I do that?”

“O Lord my God, if I have done this, if there is iniquity in my hands, if I have repaid evil to him who was at peace with me, or have plundered my enemy without cause, let the enemy pursue me and overtake me; yes, let him trample my life to the earth, and lay my honor in the dust. Selah [vs. 3-5].”

The self-imprecatory oath was one of the most powerful legal instruments in ancient covenant culture. Apparently, Cush the Benjamite has laid powerful accusations against David, and to emphasize his innocence, the king calls fire upon his own head should he be lying.

Invoking a curse on oneself was common back then, in covenant contexts, as violating moral or social codes invited divine judgment.

The legality of the psalm has only just begun. The Hebrew word ra’, translated as “evil,” refers to covenant violation, not general wrongdoing.

The end of David’s self-curse is even more dramatic than it sounds. Allowing his enemy to lay his honor in the dust refers to much more than his reputation. He’s saying, “If I’m guilty, let my entire being – body and soul – be crushed.”

Calling up a divine court.

The meaning of Psalm 7:6-8 is more apparent, even without knowing that David has been, up until now, using legal terminology. His request that people assemble around God, while He sits enthroned over them, judging, is clearly a call for God to convene court. In fact, the Hebrew word translated as “rise up” or “awaken” carries the technical sense of a judge taking his seat to hear a case.

The word shaphat for “judge” isn’t only about delivering verdicts, but also includes delivering the oppressed and punishing the wicked.

In verse eight, when David asks the Lord to judge him according to his (David’s) righteousness and integrity, he’s not claiming to be without sin. Rather, he’s referring to his covenantal faithfulness – which includes his community as well as God – and his blamelessness in conduct.

It’s legal innocence language, not an assertion of moral goodness.

Divine testing.

Psalm 7:9 reads, “Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end, but establish the just; for the righteous God tests the hearts and mind.”

“Tests” comes from the Hebrew word bochan, which specifically means “to assay metals.” In case you’ve forgotten that lesson from sixth-grade science, to assay a metal is to test it for genuineness. It requires an intense examination.

In this context, David is saying that God tests the authenticity of legal claims with the precision of a craftsman.

God is just.

In verses ten and eleven, we read, “My defense is of God, who saves the upright in heart; God is a just judge, and God is angry with the wicked every day.”

English (and I would imagine every other language) translators often lose the deep meaning of these verses when they translate elyon into “God.” Those who tack on “Most High” are closer, but the meaning of that addition is usually lost in the modern age.

The word elyon was used by the Canaanites as well, so by invoking the term, David is reminding his listeners that Israel’s God is not a tribal deity but the supreme judge over all nations and gods.

You have to remember that back then, even those who were faithful to Yahweh did not necessarily not believe in the existence of other gods.

God being angry every day is a weak translation of the Hebrew. The root suggests boiling rage, and not just occasional, but consistent and daily.

Getting ready for war.

“If he does not turn back, He will sharpen His sword; He bends His bow and makes it ready. He also prepares for Himself instruments of death; He makes His arrows into fiery shafts [vs. 12-13}.”

Several of the words in this passage are technical military terms. The idea of God appearing as a warrior to defend the innocent was not exclusive to the Israelites, but was a common belief among the various cultures of the day.

The “fiery shafts” (“flaming arrows” in more modern translations) referred to the ancient warfare tactic of dipping arrows in pitch and then setting them ablaze. Ancient audiences would have immediately recognized such phraseology as serious military preparation.

Testosterone-laden though these two verses might be, they can bring the modern Christian comfort, reminding us that God is all-powerful and that when we engage in spiritual warfare, He has the most and strongest weapons in the cosmos.

And they are all at our disposal.

The conception and consequences of evil.

“Behold,” verse 14 begins, “the wicked brings forth iniquity; yes, he conceives trouble and brings forth falsehood.”

The birth metaphor implies intentional, cultivated sin, not just spontaneous wrongdoing. Evil requires gestation and growth. It’s a deliberate process.

Think murder verses manslaughter.

The pit-digging imagery in verse 15 reflects the ancient legal principle of “measure for measure” (such as, an eye for an eye). A common theme in ancient Near Eastern wisdom literature, it reflects belief in moral causality, where wrongdoing sets inevitable consequences in motion.

David’s declaration of faith.

“I will praise the Lord according to His righteousness, and will sing praise to the name of the Lord Most High,” Psalm 7 concludes.

Where the NKJ version of the Bible says, “praise,” other versions say, “give thanks.” They come from the Hebrew word odeh, which has its root in yadah, which implies confession and public acknowledgment.

Which gives new meaning to the Yiddish phrase, “yadah-yadah-yadah,” doesn’t it?

Back to being serious.

As in most – if not all – of the psalms, the praise offered by the psalmist is in a communal setting. Here, David is declaring publicly that God’s justice is worthy of communal worship.

Finally, by ending with “Lord Most High,” the king brings the psalm full circle, affirming God’s supremacy over all other powers and his role as the ultimate judge who vindicates the innocent.

It’s a type and shadow of the Messiah who would come a thousand years later to save us from the power of evil and make us innocent by the washing away of our sin.

And it’s done by a covenant written in the heavens by the Creator of the universe, a legal document more solid than granite, and a million times stronger than steel.

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"My Soul Is Greatly Troubled" -- The Hidden Treasures in Psalm 6

PLEASE PIN THIS IMAGE - The real meaning of Psalm 6.

Psalm 6 is depressing. On its surface, anyway. There is little about it to evoke the religious warm fuzzies that so many other psalms do.

But when you get beyond the sloppy English translations, the original poem gives a much more comforting view of God… though the actual meaning of Psalm 6 still makes it one of the most emotionally raw prayers in Scripture.

Let’s dive past shallow and shaky English translations and examine the psalm in the light of its original language as well as the culture it came from.

Divine correction equals covenant love.

“O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger, nor chastise me in Your hot displeasure,” the Psalm begins.

If you’ve never felt these words from Psalm 6:1 at the bottom of your soul, you haven’t been a Christian very long. Yet, this isn’t about feeling like God is punishing. The Hebrew reveals something beautiful that English obscures.

The word tokhicheni, which is translated as “rebuke,” comes from a legal root meaning “to argue a case” or “to bring charges.” The psalmist is begging God not to bring charges against him. For the ancient Israelites, this kind of correction was considered to be an act of covenant love, like a caring father guiding a beloved child.

Similarly, teyasreni, translated as “discipline,” carries the sense of formative instruction, not mere punishment. King David isn’t begging an angry God to stop being mean to him. Rather, he’s asking his covenant Father to correct him gently instead of striking out in fury.

To treat him as a son being educated, not a criminal being sentenced.

It’s a perfect illustration of how we can approach God in our own times of correction. We can appeal to His fatherly heart, knowing that even His discipline flows from love.

Two for one.

Another important aspect of the first verse is the two expressions of divine displeasure. In the New King James version, they are “anger” and “displeasure.”

The Hebrew word translated into “anger” is ’aph, which literally means “nostril.” The idea is of nostrils flaring in anger.

Chemah, translated as “displeasure,” suggests burning heat or fury. These were two different kinds of divine displeasure that could be appealed to differently.

English translations completely miss the import of the two different words, as they lose the sophisticated theological vocabulary of the original Hebrew, vocabulary that teach how to understand and approach God’s various responses to sin and injustice.

Withering like a dying plant.

Verse two reads, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are troubled.”

The word translated as “weak,” ’umlal, doesn’t mean merely faint or tired. The connotation is of withering or wasting away. It’s the same word used for a plant dying from lack of water.

David is describing his very life force draining away.

The phrase “my bones are troubled” is equally powerful. In Hebrew anthropology, bones represented the very structure and strength of a person. For them to be “troubled” implied the deepest stage of an existential crisis.

It’s not hyperbole, as the ancient Hebrews saw emotional, spiritual, and physical suffering as being tightly interwoven. That’s because they didn’t conceive of body-soul-spirit as three separate entities, but as one integrated entity.

Three in one. A human trinity, you might say.

So if a person stated that their bones were troubled, they were saying that they were deeply distressed and anguished in every dimension of their being.

“How long?” Rude, or sacred?

“My soul also is greatly troubled; but You, O Lord – how long? [vs. 3].”

You may have been raised in a denomination that taught you never to question God. About anything. Period.

However, this verse contradicts that way of thinking. The Hebrew cry of ad-matai? appears throughout the Psalms and prophetic literature, and when it does, it’s not just a question, but also a liturgical formula of covenant complaint.

When David asks, “How long?” he’s essentially saying, “I am suffering unjustly or disproportionately. How long will You, as the covenant-keeping God, delay in restoring justice or mercy?”

Again, to our modern ears this strikes us as rude. But ancient Israelite worship encouraged this kind of raw honesty because it demonstrated confidence that the Lord would eventually respond.

So, too, can we bring our “how long” questions to God without fear of offending Him.

Wait…what?

We modern Christians would like to pretend verse five doesn’t even exist.

“For in death there is no remembrance of You; in the grave who will give You thanks?”

Wait. I thought that to be absent from the body was to be present with the Lord. I thought there was an afterlife.

This verse makes it sound like… there isn’t?

Or that death equals eternal torment in a place as far from God as the east is from the west.

The first thing you need to understand is that the word “Sheol” never, ever referred to a place of eternal conscious torment. It was a realm of silence and non-being where worship ceased. Before Yeshua came to defeat death, some believe, death meant the soul falling into a deep, unconscious sleep. Kind of like undergoing anesthesia, they died one second and felt like the next second they were translated into heaven – though they had actually spent hundreds and thousands of years in oblivion until Yeshua’s resurrection.

That place of unconscious waiting was what the ancient Hebrews called “Sheol.”

David’s fear in this verse isn’t punishment after death, but that death was going to cut off his ability to be in covenantal relationship with God through worship and praise.

He was basically saying, “Look, Father, if you let me die, You won’t have me around to adore and honor You anymore.”

It was a stark appeal to God’s desire to be in relationship with His children.

Today, it is a stark reminder that our present moments of praise and relationship with God are precious, and that we shouldn’t take them for granted.

Honor, shame, and social death.

Verse seven reads, “My eye wastes away because of grief; it grows old because of all my enemies.”

In ancient Hebrew culture, having enemies wasn’t just about physical threat. It also represented a challenge to a person’s honor and standing in the community. The enemies in question were people who would benefit from the psalmist’s downfall, making this as much about social death as physical danger.

The wasting away of eyes has nothing to do with macular degeneration, but a profound grief that encompasses the shame of being publicly opposed and potentially defeated. Back then, shame equated to devastation of a person’s identity and relationships.

Swimming in tears.

“I am weary with my groaning; all night I make my bed swim; I drench my couch with my tears,” David laments in Psalm 6:6.

There’s nothing wrong with the translation here, as it captures the vividness of the original language well. However, unless you’re a Hebrew scholar or have been taught the entire Bible by a Hebrew scholar, you’re not going to know that all the moisture in this verse is reference to agricultural irrigation.

Which was integrated, by God’s commands, into Temple worship.

In addition, in Near Eastern culture prolonged crying and fasting were external markers of lament. They were public signs of grief before God.

David’s private mourning mirrors the water rituals of temple worship, turning his body’s distress into a legitimate part of prayer. The psalm teaches us that gut-wrenching emotion isn’t something to hide or be embarrassed about, but to present before God in transparent vulnerability and angst. It give us permission to bring our whole selves, including physical response to pain, into God’s presence without fear or shame.

When prayer transforms reality.

Psalm 6:8-9 reads, “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity; for the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.”

As with similar psalms, this one pivots from despair to confidence in God in the space of a nanno-second. Why this oft-repeated literary technique?

For the ancient Hebrews, prayer was a transformative act that could realign the sufferer with divine reality even before circumstances changed. The word shama, translated as “heard” and “received,” carries the meaning of intent hearing with intent to act. The sowers of discord must flee because of God’s imminent response.

This isn’t about asking God for a BMW and mansion on a lake and then thanking Him for the answer, as some kind of magical name-it-and-claim-it formula. Rather, these verses teach us that prayer itself can be the hinge between despair and hope, not because it changes God’s mind, but because it changes our perspective on our circumstances.

Because it revs up our faith.

To sum up…

A deep understanding of Psalm 6 helps us to:

• approach God’s correction with confidence in His fatherly love;
• bring our whole selves – body, mind, and spirit – into prayer;
• express honest protest and complaint as acts of faith;
• understand that prayer itself can be transformative;
• recognize the social and relational dimensions of our struggles; and
• trust in God’s precise understanding of our various needs.

The psalm may be a type and shadow of the confidence that believers should have in spiritual warfare, as the power of Christ through faith can defeat every invisible enemy.

I encourage you to read Psalm 6 with these new insights in mind. You will come away from it much more enriched than before.

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“Let Them Ever Shout for Joy”: A Dive Into Psalm Five

PLEASE PIN THIS IMAGE - The true meaning of Psalm 5

 Psalm 5 is a beloved morning prayer that countless Christians have turned to for comfort. Yet, even as we read the words, we miss the depth of meaning of this ancient poem due to our distance from the culture and awkward attempts to translate the nuanced Hebrew language.

If you’re interested in understand the true meaning of Psalm 5, keep reading.

The raw emotion of wordless prayer.

“Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my meditation. Give heed to the voice of my cry, my King and my God, for to you I will pray [vs. 1-2].”

In a previous post on Psalm 1, I brought out the fact that the word translated as “meditation” refers to a muttering aloud. However, in Psalm 5:1, it carries the meaning of a stifled cry or inward moan.

It’s not a calm, articulate prayer, but a groaning of deep anguish from someone too distressed to form words. Much more emotional than we can glean from English translations, which make the prayer sound more composed than it actually is.

Morning prayer as sacred ritual.

The third verse states, “O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch.”

In attempt to remain consistent, I’ve been using the New King James Version for my past couple of article about Psalms. But the NKJV loses the meaning of this verse even worse than other translations, so here I’m switching to the English Standard Version.

Verse three is likely the most misunderstood verse in Psalm 5. The Hebrew phrase arakh lekha is often weakly translated as “lay my requests” or “prepare.”

But arakh means to arrange or to set in order – the exact same verb used in Leviticus for arranging sacrificial offerings on the altar. In other words, the psalmist isn’t casually mentioning morning prayer. He’s describing the deliberate arrangement of his prayers with the same sacred intentionality as a priest preparing a sacrifice.

The word that follows, tsaphpah, suggests waiting attentively to divine response, reminiscent of the time Elijah prayed for God to accept his sacrifice on the water-soaked altar.

The gist is that morning prayer is a liturgical act, not mere devotional habit.

Raise your hand if you feel as convicted as I do over that revelation.

Yeah. Thought so. ;)

He won’t put up with it.

“For You are not a God who takes pleasure in wickedness, nor shall evil dwell with you. The boastful shall not stand in Your sight; You hate all workers of iniquity. You shall destroy those who speak falsehood; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man [4-6].”

If those verses don’t tell you where you stand with God, nothing will!

Seriously, these verses establish what we might call the “legal geography” of God’s presence. The Hebrew gur translated as “dwell” would be better phrased as “to sojourn as a guest.”

In ancient Near Eastern culture, a traveler being allowed to temporarily reside in a foreign country was a big deal. Readers and hearers of this psalm would understand the huge implication: wicked people aren’t allowed to hang out with God even temporarily.

He will not be in the same room as evil.

Similarly, the phrase “shall not stand in Your sight” evokes the ancient practice of standing before a king. If you recall the book of Esther, to stand before a king means that the monarch offered you privilege and approval. The wicked are not legally allowed a divine audience, especially in worship contexts.

That God “hates” workers of iniquity should be a no-brainer, but it doesn’t refer to the modern way we use the word. Rather, it’s about covenantal rejection.

God refuses to be in relationship with those who violate the covenant. It’s a theme repeated many times in the various book of the prophets.

Temple geography, sacred orientation.

Verses seven and eight read, “But as for me, I will come into Your house in the multitude of Your mercy; in fear of You I will worship toward Your holy temple. Lead me, O Lord, in Your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before my face.”

Psalm 5:7 challenges modern worship. Where the NKJV reads “worship,” other translations say, “bow down.” This isn’t the polite bow of greeting of Victorian England. It refers to prostrating oneself on the ground, face down.

It is, physically speaking, the utmost expression of humility and vulnerability.

In verse eight, the verb translated as “lead,” combined with “make Your way straight,” may have referenced literal processional paths leading to ancient temples. The psalmist is praying for a clear, righteous path into God’s presence – one not obscured by deceit or enemies.

The power of the tongue.

In verse nine, we read, “For there is no faithfulness in their mouth; their inward part is destruction; their throat is an open tomb; they flatter with their tongue.”

The ancient Hebrew worldview understood speech as powerful. Words didn’t just describe reality, they shaped it (see James 3:6 and Proverbs 18:21).

The word havvah, translated as “destruction” suggests moral corruption, and the reference to the tomb or grave illustrates the wicked as speaking death rather than life. It’s a sharp contrast to the psalmist’s own words at the beginning of the psalm.

Let them ever shout for joy.

I have a pocket-sized Gideon New Testament-Psalm-Proverbs Bible that’s almost as old as God Himself, and which contains a font size much too small for my fifty-five-year-old eyes. However, about a hundred years ago I used it to memorize certain verses that struck me, and Psalm 5:11 is marked as one of them with a blue pen which has long since gone on to Writing Utensil Heaven.

Let me type it out by heart. 

“But let all those rejoice who put their trust in You; Let them ever shout for joy because You defend them [I have to cheat now]; let those who also love Your name be joyful in You.”

Then there’s the final verse: “For You, O Lord, will bless the righteous; with favor You will surround him as with a shield.”

Like many of the psalms it begins with an individual petition, then ends with communal imagery. Most Western Christians glaze right over the fact, seeing only themselves as “the righteous,” completely ignoring the truth that the verses are referring to a large group of people.

A corporate entity, not a single one.

Then there is the phrase “take refuge,” totally flattened in the English translation. The Hebrew word, chasah, is a technical term for seeking asylum in a sanctuary city or temple. The word translated as either “defend” or “protect” means “to weave a covering.”

Modern Christians take the verses in the abstract. But the original intent was to describe a concrete sanctuary. The psalmist envisions fellow worshipers of God as sheltered and rejoicing together in God’s presence.

The final blessing is like a royal decree. God legally blesses and surrounds believers with protective favor. In fact, the word translated as “shield,” tzinnah, refers to a large body shield that would be used in formation fighting. This suggests corporate rather than individual protection.

We are His body. Not isolated worshippers who each get to invent our own idea of God.

Selah.

I Will Lie Down in Peace: The True Meaning of Psalm 4

Despite its brevity, Psalm 4 is rich in nuance and theology. In the Bible, it’s attributed to King David, and has been used through the centuries as an evening prayer.

It also contains meaning that most Christians miss, and I want to touch on that in this article.

Right off the bat…

The psalm begins with a preface. 

“To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments. A Psalm of David.”

The word translated as “choirmaster,” lamnatseach, actually means “to make victorious” or “to cause to endure.” The use of the Hebrew word suggests that the psalm was intended not just for liturgical performance but for spiritual victory and endurance.

Whose righteousness?

“Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness!” the psalm begins. “You have relieved me in my distress; have mercy on me, and hear my prayer.”

Elohai tzedki is usually translated as “God of my righteousness,” but that erases the cultural background of the writer. In ancient Israel, tzedek, or righteousness, was relational and judicial. It had to do with being in right standing with the law and judges, especially in disputes.

Thus, David is appealing to God as his divine judge, asserting that he is in the right and asking God to uphold that fact publicly. A much better translation of the Hebrew would be, “God who shows me justice.”

Not just any men.

The second verse states, “How long, o you sons of men, will you turn my glory to shame? How long will you love worthlessness and seek falsehood?”

The Hebrew word bnei ish isn’t a generic reference to males, but specifically connotes noblemen or other men with influence and status. So the king is likely addressing powerful men who are opposing and slandering him.

Next we come to a point that we’ll be revisiting repeatedly: in ancient Near East culture, public honor was crucial, and to be shamed was equivalent to being publically flogged naked and then made to stand tied up for days on end, inches deep in your bodily waste.

In other words, shame was a big deal, to be avoided at all costs.

“Worthlessness” refers to idolatrous or deceptive hopes and “falsehood” to false accusations or manipulation.

Godly?

In the next verse, we read, “But know that the Lord has set apart for Himself him who is godly; the Lord will hear when I call to Him.”

The word “godly” here is nearly a mistranslation, as modern Christians have a particular idea what living a godly life means. In the original Hebrew, however, the word used (chasid) refers to covenant loyalty. David is saying that he is confident that God will hear his prayer because of the covenant relationship they have, not because David believes himself to be particularly pious (which shows that he had a good dose of self-awareness!).

Be angry…REALLY?

“Be angry, and do not sin. Meditate within your heart on your bed, and be still [vs. 4].”

If you’ve believed your whole life that the beginning of this verse is a command, allow me to begin to gently sledgehammer this idea out of your mind.

The Hebrew word translated as “be angry” is rigzu, which is derived from ragaz. The meaning of that word refers to trembling with fear, agitation, or emotional intensity.

You would therefore be within reason to think that the verse is saying, “Don’t let strong emotions tempt you to sin.” While that’s a good motto to live by, scholars believe the best translation is along the lines of, “Tremble with awe or conscience, and do not sin.” Why? Because for the ancient Hebrews, such trembling could be a response to divine conviction or justice.

The phrase is more about inner self-examination than about managing emotions.

The second half of the verse refers to the ancient practice of nighttime reflection. Bedtime was a spiritual checkpoint. I suppose this could very well be where St. Ignatius of Loyola got his idea of the “Prayer of Examen.”

A final interesting point to make about this verse is that “be still” isn’t about silent meditation, but a physical posture of submission before God.

Um…what?

The fifth verse states, “Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the Lord.”

The first nuance you may not have understood (I didn’t) is that King David is still talking to his opponents.

Second, in a world that long ago ended sacrificing living beings to the gods, the richness of phrasing around sacrifices gets lost. In ancient culture, sacrifices without righteous behavior were considered offensive to God. The first chapter of Isaiah has the profit railing on his fellow Israelites for following the religious rules while living deeply in sin.

Scholars believe that this verse shows David calling his opponents to repentance. Their offering a sacrifice of righteousness would be a turning away of their persecution of God’s anointing. The sacrifices likely refer to the specific peace offerings that were supposed to restore covenant relationship after conflict. In essence, David is saying, “Get right with God and quit bugging me!”

Verse six.

“There are many who say, ‘Who will show us any good?’ Lord, lift up the light of Your countenance upon us.”

The question in this verse is believed to come from a cynical or despairing public, a group who feels maligned or abandoned. It’s countered with the writer of the psalm echoing the priestly benediction in Numbers, a benediction which invokes God’s favor. His countenance or face, according to ancient culture, symbolized His presence, approval, and protection. So the simple prayer is nevertheless heavy with meaning.

That’s a lot of gladness!

Verse seven reads, “You have put gladness in my heart, more than in the season that their grain and wine increased.”

In this day where most people live in the city and find their provisions at one of many available grocery stores, we totally miss how deep and rich this statement is. Back in the ancient Near East, grain and wine were symbols of blessing and security. To have an abundance of both equated to wealth and/or stability.

Thus, David is contrasting inner spiritual joy with material prosperity. He’s saying that the inner abundance that comes from a relationship with God is exponentially greater than external gain.

Good night.

“I will both lie down in peace, and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

Similar to Psalm 3, Psalm 4:8 is an expression of profound trust. In those days, to go to to sleep when enemies were after you was tantamount to drawing a red target on your chest. So to be able to go to sleep in the midst of being chased by enemies was to put all of your trust in someone to protect you.

In addition, the Hebrew word bavetach, translated as “in safety,” conveys that kind of trust, along with the feeling of security such deep and complete trust brings.

With this new knowledge of the meaning of Psalm 4 in hand, I encourage you to read it through slowly. May its eternal meaning nourish your soul today.

 

Psalm 3: Hope in the Midst of a Storm

PLEASE PIN THIS IMAGE - The true meaning of Psalm 3.

The book of Psalms is filled with desperate cries for help pushed up against declarations of recognition of God’s majesty and care for His people. The third psalm is the first, and though it is, on the surface, related to military troubles, it’s deeper meaning is one that many Jews and Christians have clung to during difficult periods of their lives. Rereading it now, I wonder if I would have had a lot easier time emotionally and psychologically during my recent bedridden weeks if I had soaked in its hopeful words early on during my trial.

But if you’re like most Christians, you’ve been taught to read the psalms metaphorically or allegorically, with little to no idea of the original meanings. So for the moment, let’s set aside what we want the ancient poem to mean, and take a look at what the author originally intended it to mean.

Many pains in the hind end.

“Lord, how they have increased who trouble me! Many are they who rise up against me,” bemoans the author in the first verse of Psalm 3.

What is translated is “have increased” and “many” in this verse, as well as the “many” in verse two, comes from the Hebrew word rabbim. The repetition is a literary technique meant to create an intensifying effect to suggest not just an increase in number of enemies, but an overwhelm of military forces.

Qamim, translated as “rise up against,” is often, in the ancient literature, used to refer to political rebellion or military uprising. The historical reference in this psalm is David’s flight from his son, Absalom, who was attempting a coup.

Everybody gets Psalm 3:2 wrong.

“Many are they who say of me, ‘There is no help for him in God.’”

Unless you are intimately acquainted not only with Hebrew, but ancient covenantal language, you’ve misinterpreted this verse for your entire life.

I know I have.

First of all, the enemies’ quote isn’t an observation about the author’s disparaging circumstances. It’s a taunt.

And not just any taunt. It’s a public denial of God’s favor and covenantal faithfulness.

This is huge, because at the time the psalm was written, people interpreted protection and deliverance as signs of God’s favor. To say that a person had no salvation in God was equivalent to stating that God had abandoned them. The words are a cruel attempt to shame the target, a disgraceful and hard punch to a person’s identity as a beloved of God.

The first use of Selah.

Psalm 3 is the first psalm to use the word selah, and it uses it three times, in verses two, four, and eight. If you’re like me, you’ve heard that the meaning is something to the effect of “pause and think about that.”

What you likely haven’t been told is that the presence of the word in this and any other psalm indicates a musical or liturgical pause. Thus, the psalm was specifically composed for corporate worship. Rather than an individual lament, the poem was to be used as part of a communal liturgy during national crisis.

In addition, selah is likely a cue to feel the theological weight of the previous statement. While you’re pausing and thinking, you’re supposed to put yourself in the place of the writer so you can experience the full range of emotion they were likely feeling.

The Divine Warrior.

Verse three states, “But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory and the One who lifts up my head.”

The Hebrew word magen translated as "shield" is specific, meaning a small, round shield that was used in close combat. The implication is that God’s protection is intimate and personal rather than distant.

Also, the verse implies that the shield was not only front-facing, but surrounded the body. So God’s protection is complete, fending off arrows and swords on all sides.

Moving on, the words “my glory” are a bit awkwardly translated. In context, the writer is saying that God’s presence is his true honor; in other words, he can have no real glory without God.

Finally, in ancient courts, a king would literally lift a subordinate’s chin as a gesture of favor and restoration to honor. Thus, to declare that God is the lifter of your head is to recognize His majesty and power, the only One who can make things right in your life once again.

Where is God’s hill?

In the fourth verse, we read, “I cried to the Lord with my voice, and He heard me from His holy hill.”

If you know your Old Testament, you know that the first Jewish temple was built on a high hill; some even call it a mountain. “His holy hill” is a specific reference to God’s presence in the temple on Mount Zion, to His earthly throne.

The meaning of the verse is more poignant when you remember that it refers back to David fleeing his own son. To stay alive, David didn’t dare return to the temple, yet his prayer reflects his confidence that God, number one, still reigns there despite the political upheaval; and number two, can hear David’s cry despite the physical distance between them.

More profoundly, the verse is a contradiction to what his enemies believe, that God has abandoned him. It proclaims the writer’s confidence that he is still in covenant with his God.

A wonderful verse for neurodivergent postmenopausal women to claim.

Okay, so I say that with my tongue firmly embedded in my cheek... though both neurodivergent and postmenopausal women tend to have trouble sleeping. But verse five depicts the peace and calm that manifests physically when you fully put your trust in the Lord.

“I lay down and slept. I awoke, for the Lord sustained me.” 

The Hebrew construction of the verse emphasizes a completed action, that David slept peacefully despite being in mortal danger. Recall that at the time, he was hiding in caves. It wasn’t as though he could lock a door and set an alarm. There weren’t any doors to lock!

Back then, a soldier going to sleep meant making himself fully vulnerable. He could only do so in peace if he knew he had comrades watching his back.

The verse illustrates how much trust David carried for a God he had never seen.

Broken teeth? What’s the point?

“Arise, O Lord, save me, O my God! For You have struck all my enemies on the cheekbone. You have broken the teeth of the ungodly [vs. 7].”

The first thing to understand about this verse is that “Arise, O Lord” was an Israelite military cry, used in battle processions as the ark moved forward.

The next thing just might blow your mind.

In ancient cultures, to strike someone’s cheek was as a gesture of humiliation, and breaking the teeth is a metaphor for destroying the enemy’s ability to "devour"with their violence. This verse, then, is a request for divine warfare that leads to enemy defeat and public shame.

What’s so mind-blowing about this? In Matthew 5, Yeshua said, “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also [vs 39].” For hundreds of years, ignorant Christians (sorry, that’s most of us) have been taught that Yeshua was against violence in any form, including self-defense.

I have to wonder how many Christians have allowed their faces, even their bodies, to be beaten to a pulp, thanks to the totally wrong interpretation of His words.

Because His statement isn't anti-self-defense. Instead, it's referring to shame and humiliation. He means, if somebody talks smack about you, trying to humiliate you, let them keep on talking. Shut up and let God deal with them. Remember, vengeance belongs to the Lord? That’s part of the faith walk, part of trusting.

"...not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing [1 Peter 3:9]." In this verse, the apostle was clarifying the meaning of Yeshua's admonition to "turn the other cheek."

The covenantal blessing formula

“Salvation belongs to the Lord. Your blessing is upon your people. Selah.” So ends the third Psalm.

The first thing to notice is the inclusion of all Israel. The prayer segues from personal petition to corporate intercession, showing the remembrance that salvation is not a private possession, but a covenantal benefit for all of God’s people.

I’ll end by homing in on the word “salvation” – in some translations, “deliverance” – which comes from the Hebrew word yeshu’ah. You got it – that’s the name Mary and Joseph (really Mariam and Yosef) gave their son the night He was born in a stable in Bethlehem.

Because He is the Savior.

I don’t think it’s coincidence that the final phrase “Your blessing is upon your people” employs technical covenantal language, and that it comes just after the use of yeshu’ah.

Yeshua -- the Son of God -- is the fulfillment of God’s promise to save Israel.

And "Israel" includes those of us who are grafted into the family by faith in the Savior.

Selah.

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