Why We Need to Mind Our Own Business, and Why the Internet Has Made That Nearly Impossible

PLEASE PIN THIS IMAGE: How to mind your business in the Internet age

How to have an online presence and still mind your own business? I examine this question from a Christian perspective in this article. If you’ve been asking yourself if it’s okay for Christians to be on social media, keep reading.

Susie balked. Her stomach twisted as anger began a slow boil beneath her solar plexus. Did I.D.K. Much really do that when he was a kid? That was worse than anything she’d ever heard about B.S. Prez! What was the world of politics coming to?

Thumbs doing a fast dance over her phone screen, she scrolled down to read the comments. Anger became fury, boiling over in hot lava and a stream of curse words. Her friend was defending IDK? What the heck?

Like an out-of-control bus, indignation rolled over and through her, tightening every one of her muscles. In a flash, she was on her other social media site, thumbs flying as she tapped out her opinion, urging the world to stop being stupid by supporting IDK.

The next morning, she went to church and worshipped God.

Or, so she believed…

The 21^st century sin.

This morning, I engaged in a debate with my eighteen-year-old son. To respect his dignity – and to avoid hypocrisy, as you’ll understand as I move on in this post – I’m not going to give details about it. Suffice to say that it had to do with people online spouting opinions about other people (whom they don’t know personally), and that I ended up reminding him that we are not to judge others because the planks in our eyes are bigger than the specks in other people’s eyes (Matthew 7:3-5).

That got me to thinking about Paul’s admonition in 1 Thessalonians 4:11, that Christians should lead quiet lives and mind their own business. It’s a concept I’ve struggled with on and off for the past few years, because if I blog or upload public YouTube videos, am I not encouraging people to get into my business? Even if I’m not, there’s always the danger of becoming one of those armchair judges of Internet personalities, and allowing my opinions to seep through my content.

The beginning of human nosiness.

The fact of the matter is, people have always been nosier than they ought. Gossip is likely as old as the human race, with propaganda not far behind. Every technological advance in communication – the printing press, the telephone, radio, television, the Internet – has only served to increase the difficulty of minding one’s own business. Human beings yearn to connect with each other, but in our fallen state have done so with an increasingly heavier pull to do so via manipulation and persuasion of others to ungodly opinions and perspectives.

I’m not anti-Internet, but…

Twenty-five years ago, websites and online videos pushed the limit of psychological and emotional manipulation; today, social media has made the problem a hundred times worse. People on one side of a social or political issue are convinced they are right, and do everything they can to persuade other people to believe the way they do.

And many – most? – of these beliefs are dead wrong.

The use of language learning artificial intelligent models such as ChatGPT for distribution of propaganda on social media sites has aggravated an already tenuous situation.

I avoid social media for a variety of reasons, but lately, that has become a primary one. From all reports, many threads consist of one of two types: people arguing with the vehemence of a cat under a shower about social and political issues, or people giving the O.P. compliments and virtual pats on the back, cheering them on for their insights and thoughts.

Even when they’re wrong.

Because nobody’s wrong if they believe the same way you do.

And therein lies the problem: human beings are flawed, and therefore none of us – no matter how close to God we believe we are – know the absolute truth about every situation. Worse, our past experiences bias our opinions; and opinions, when ruminated on long enough, become entrenched beliefs, which do a bang-up job of masquerading as Truth.

The core of my conversation with (okay, lecture to) my son this morning centered on this idea, that what we think is truth, often isn’t.

And the problem is much worse today, thanks to the insinuation of relativism into modern thought.

But there’s a larger challenge that Christians face, and that is our flesh. Our flesh – that part of us that flips the birdie at God and says, “I got this, thanks” – tempts us into responding to posts and threads and comments that we believe to be wrong, to be contrary to God’s word. Our flesh begins by whispering that as a Christian, we have a responsibility to correct people online, whether friends, acquaintances, or perfect strangers. It tells us that it’s part of what Yeshua meant by being “salt and light.”

Then, once we engage, it provides justifications for replying with increasing frustration and ire and self-righteousness when others take us to task with what we’ve said.

Finally, we end up flipping a virtual birdie at them, and leave the thread feeling angry, dismayed, and perhaps even in despair. We lose all sight of Yeshua’s way, replacing His light and easy yoke with a heavy burden made by our own hands.

Rather, by our minds.

In the process, we lose our witness with those we initially set out to help.

Should Christians be on social media? Or give up the Internet altogether?

If to no other time, Yeshua was looking ahead to the twenty-first century when He told us to be in the world, but not of the world ([John 17). Technology has made keeping our mind on the things of God more challenging than the pre-television days, and the constant stream of information, advice, and opinions on social media can make Christians feel like they’re getting sucked into a deep pit of worldly quicksand with no way out.

As a fifty-five-year-old woman who has lived most of her life (so far!) without Internet, and who does not engage on social media, I can tell you for a certain fact that it is possible for anyone to thrive without either. Obviously, I have chosen to use certain aspects of the Internet to my advantage. But I temper my use, avoiding social media and places like sensationalist websites and YouTube channels. If I comment on a video – which is rare – it’s to add to the content, or provide a bit of encouragement, not to market my “brand,” debate with anyone, or seek attention.

In other words, I don’t get into other people’s business.

Why?

Why did the apostle Paul advise followers of Yeshua, so long ago, to mind their own business? Not having spoken with the man personally, I can’t tell you for sure. But life experience and common sense, as well as a solid relationship with my heavenly Father, have illuminated several reasons.

1. It’s a lot easier to follow Yeshua’s command not to judge.
2. It’s a lot less stressful. Getting into other people’s business is a good way to invite the spirit of fear into your life. And when you’re full of fear and anxiety, there’s no room for love. Which brings us to…
3. Getting into people’s business isn’t love. It’s manipulation. Manipulation is the biggest sin that everyone ignores.
4. You might be wrong. If you stick your hand into a pile of dung, it will end up all over you if, in the end, your friendly advice or strong opinion is wrong. You could end up causing more harm than good to the other person.

“But what about carrying each other’s burdens?”

You’re allowed to ask someone, “Are you okay?” It’s godly to offer support and prayer if someone reveals a challenge in their life.

That’s love. That’s compassion.

I believe that when Paul told us to mind our own business, he was telling us, through the Holy Spirit, two things. Number one, we’re not to jump in and try to “rescue” people who are living or believing differently than we are. Yes, report a crime. Even stop it, if you can safely do so. Yes, gently correct a fellow believer if they’re obviously choosing a sinful path.

But if you’re an avid homeschooling mother, don’t try to persuade every other mother you meet who sends their children to school to believe what you do about education. Don’t be an armchair nutritionist or physician to people you meet online who talk about their physical woes. Don’t tell people they are idiots for taking a different political stand than you do.

In other words, don't give unsolicited advice and opinions.

Number two, we’re not to obsess over the choices of people outside of our responsibility (usually immediate family) because all that does is lead to worry. Christians worry over a lot of things under the guise of “concern” or “social justice” or “righteous indignation,” but worry is a form of fear, and living in fear is living in sin.

How dare I say that? Well, I didn’t. God did.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus [Philippians 4:6-7].”

Worry is anxiety, and it comes from not trusting God with our problems. This verse cannot be more clear that God’s will for His children is for us to walk in peace.

We cannot do that if we are minding other people’s business.

So, how can Christians have an online presence and still mind their own business? It’s simple. Only engage when and where the Lord leads you to.

Completely avoid gossip or anything that even slightly smacks of sensationalism. Even if a Christian started it.

Conservative Christians are as guilty as anyone else of spreading such half-truths (even full-on lies).

If you end up in worry or judgment by what you read, or potentially hurting another person due to your comments?

You totally missed God. Perhaps it would be better for you to completely disengage from social media and controversial content online until you’ve matured to a point where you no longer believe you have the answer to everyone’s problems.

Let peace and love be your guide. 

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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.

 (For more inspiring content like this, you can follow this blog if you have a Google account, bookmark this blog, follow my blog on Goodreads, and/or check out the books in the sidebar.) 

"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.

 (For more inspiring content like this, you can follow this blog if you have a Google account, bookmark this blog, follow my blog on Goodreads, and/or check out the books in the sidebar.) 

“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.