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 The historical reference in this psalm is David’s flight from his son, Absalom, who was attempting a coup.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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