History reveals plenty of scandalous actions done in the name of gentlemanly conduct. In July 1804, two well-known political opponents that had slugged it out verbally, met to settle the conflict. Alexander Hamilton, the first secretary of the treasury and Aaron Burr, sitting Vice President under Thomas Jefferson, had exchanged barbs on numerous occasions. It started 13 years earlier when Burr beat out Hamilton’s father-in-law for a U.S. Senate seat. Later, still smarting over the Senate race, Hamilton campaigned against Burr when the House broke the 1800 electoral college tie favoring Jefferson over Burr for President. After serving four years as the VP, Burr decided to run for governor of New York. Hamilton could not be silent. He assailed Burr’s character, “calling him dangerous and untrustworthy.” Burr challenged him to a duel. On the fateful morning Hamilton fired first, missing Burr. However, Burr didn’t miss. The next day Hamilton died of wounds from the duel.[1]

Psalm 4 feels like a duel. Only in this case, David ended up, not as a dueler but in the middle while opponents fired away at each other. Although the superscript of this psalm doesn’t give the same details as the occasion of the Absalom revolt in Psalm 3, many scholars think it’s a continuation of David’s laments during that hard season of life.[2] David feels the weight of these conflicting people of Israel—fellow citizens he had sought to shepherd as their king, experiencing the heaviness of being pulled down by both, while sensing the need to give direction and clarity to each faction. Unrest, incivility, factious conflict, spiritual blindness, and danger to the soul brewed in their midst. He lamented the claustrophobic squeeze so evident from the people around him; he lamented being hemmed in by conflict he could not order out of existence.[3]

But David is not alone. We’re living in a season of disturbing unrest, feeling hard pressed by various positions, political and cultural wrangling, multiple conflicting ideologies, verbal barrages, media frenzies, moral conflict, and a cacophony of voices trying to drown out those around them. We feel the distress and anguish of these days. We lament the wounds that drain the lifeblood from communities. This psalm speaks to our need. When you feel the squeeze of dueling voices let your lament lead you to joyful rest. We need the rest that lasts, the kind that comes only through the Prince of Peace anchoring us in the stormy seas. How do we get anchored by Him? Let’s consider how David navigated through lament the stormy season of life on the run from Absalom.

1. A Cry in a Tight Spot

This psalm hangs together in four movements: verse 1, vv. 2–3, vv. 4–6, and vv. 7–8. The first introduces the dilemma David faced and sets the stage for his lament before the Lord. As we saw in our study of Psalm 3, lament faces and describes difficulties, sorrows, pains, and trials we’re encountering rather than dodging them in our prayers.[4] We verbalize them, knowing the Lord sees all, but sympathizes with us in our weaknesses and welcomes our heart cries (Heb. 4:14–16). Davis adds, “Prayer is worship that is both intelligent and desperate.”[5]

The plea. “Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness!” You feel the heaviness expressed as David knows no other path to come out of this crisis but the Lord hearing and answering. Prayer is not a nice add-on so he might think himself spiritual. It’s desperation; dependence; utter neediness verbalized. But what right did he have to make such a plea to the Lord God? “O God of my righteousness” provides the basis and standing with God so that he might pray. Earlier in his life, David confessed, “Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit” (Ps. 32:1–2). Paul explained that through this declaration, David spoke “of the blessing on the man to whom God credit[...]