Wednesday, August 20, 2025

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.) 

No comments:

Post a Comment

All comments should conform to Colossians 3:12-17. If yours will not, leave this blog and go pray about your attitude.