Wilderness Wanderings

Hide me from the conspiracy of the wicked, from the plots of evildoers. They sharpen their tongues like swords and aim cruel words like deadly arrows. They shoot from ambush at the innocent; they shoot suddenly, without fear. … But God will shoot them with his arrows; they will suddenly be struck down. He will turn their own tongues against them and bring them to ruin; all who see them will shake their heads in scorn. All people will fear; they will proclaim the works of God and ponder what he has done. (Psalm 64:2-4, 7-9)

The central assertion of this psalm, not included in our verses today, is that "surely the human mind and heart are cunning."

There are any number of reasons to distrust our politicians, our church leaders, our business leaders, even many reasons to distrust our own neighbours, family members, and fellow church members. It seems like we increasingly do distrust others. Maybe not always the people that we directly know who are in our lives, but certainly those who are a few steps removed from us—like when we think of leaders we've never met or group people into abstract cohorts like "liberals," "conservatives," "corporate leaders," "the media," or whatever other labels we might use.

This psalm uses the terms "the wicked," "evildoers," and "the innocent." Obviously these evildoers are the ones we would distrust, and reasons are given.

But what about all the people who fear God by the end of the psalm? Whose team are they on? Are they the innocent or the wicked? Hmm, maybe there's a bit more going on than meets the eye.

It is the human mind and heart that are cunning. Not just the mind and heart of the wicked evildoers. We are all wicked. And eventually God's justice meets us all too. Those who sharpen their tongues like swords will be judged by their own words. Those who shoot arrows of cruel words are shot by the arrow-word of God. And so all those wicked ones who shoot off their lips without fear will see the word of the Lord act in judgement against them, which by the psalm's end leads all people to the fear of the Lord.

So can we trust one another, even ourselves? Yes and no. In the Gospel of John, John says that "Jesus would not entrust himself to [the people], for he knew all people. He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person." Indeed. So who did Jesus entrust himself to then? The Father alone, that's who. And that is the call for us as well.

Every institution, group, and individual person will eventually let us down. Because none of us are righteous. The only one we may truly entrust ourselves to, is God. But, having placed our trust in God alone and having a clear-eyed view of ourselves and our fellow-folk, we can then learn to love and trust one another more appropriately. We do it in a way that doesn't place undue burdens of expectation on fallible people, but that recognizes that disappointment, sin, confession, and forgiveness will all be part of our walk together. But it's a walk we can make in good faith, because the God in whom we trust has first provided for, loved, and forgiven us.

That's what shot through our world and hearts when God took aim and fired off the arrow of His Word. His Word is Jesus Christ. His Word is forgiveness.

You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water. I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. (Psalm 63:1-5)

"In a dry and parched land where there is no water." Do you ever feel like you live in that land? Where nothing satisfies. Where you remain unsleepingly restless: full of desire and longing but with no pursuit you can find that every really quenches it?

We can distract ourselves from this roving restlessness of desire for something with almost anything: our phone, a show, work, sport, relationships, or any number of lesser goods that beckon. But they never quite quench the thirst. If we're honest: in those times when we're brave enough to sit still and quiet to face ourselves for any extended period of time—the restlessness is still there.

This is the heart string that psalms like this one pluck. This is what it means to be thirsty for God. It's that ambiguous, never-satisfied restlessness that drives us or that we run from. That's our thirst. That's our soul craving growling at us. And that's the reason that nothing we do with the stuff of this world ever seems to satisfy it for long. Because it's a thirst for God. You just can't quench it with anything else. Not with a busy, successful life, not with games and entertainment, not with a bunch of friends, likes, or reactions.

It is God that sustains our life. Not just practically through the provisions of food and drink, work and rest, or even the breath of life itself that God gives. No, to say that it is God who sustains our life means more than that. Our whole life finds its end, its purpose, its satisfaction, its fulfillment, its home, its joy, its rest in God. "Your love is better than life" declares the psalmist. To have God's love is to have more than all we could ever ask or imagine—more even than having life itself.

Does that mean that all the other things aren't important? Our relationships, our work, our enjoyment of life? Not at all. But everything in its proper place. With our desires having found their proper end and fulfillment firstly in God, it actually sets us free to truly enjoy all those other things that we otherwise might only pursue as a means of escape or as a false consolation. Said differently: with our thirst quenched by God, our body is refreshed and ready to really live.

And that living that we do after our restless desires have found their resting place in God? It all becomes an act of worship: praising God as long as we live. Because his love is better than life.

If you'd like to hear the musical version of this psalm I grew up with, you can search for "Better than Life" by Acappella, or find it here on spotify.

My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress; I will never be shaken. Psalm 62:1-2

This psalm, like so many others, comes from the cry of one who is afflicted. One whom the enemy seeks to destroy, or, if that isn't possible, at least to lower him to a place of undignified shame. It is from this place that David says in faith, "I can trust and wait on God alone." In how this verse, and later, verse 5, are worded, there is an emphasis on being silent before God, and God 'alone.' This rest in silence can be understood to be deeply expressive.

We all undergo struggles and hardship. Peace is often not won without a hard fight, often in tears. We must sacrifice something of ourselves and our lives before we can say in the stillness of our hearts, "all is well."

People will disappoint us, but we can always rest our hope in God. We are to trust Him at all times. His will is holy and good. This trust and hope bring us to the place of rest, of stillness and contentment. In Him alone.

David in verse one makes a statement, "my soul finds rest in God alone." Then in verse five he commands his soul, "Find rest, Oh my soul, in God alone." First David asserts the stillness of his soul in God. Then he speaks to his soul as assurance and affirmation of steadfastness in God. It is a good habit for us to assert, affirm and remind ourselves of truths that are found in Scripture. Speaking out biblical truths is an integral part of a strong faith life. We see David doing that here.

In the years when David was an outlaw from king Saul, his hideouts often included a cavern made of rock, a stronghold. As an experienced fighter, David knew the value of these solid defenses. Yet even more, he recognized that his safety came from God alone who is his forever rock and fortress. His high tower, above the struggles of the world, where he could find rest for his soul.

Often, we tend to put one foot on the rock of Christ while we rest the other foot on a bed of sand. Then we wonder why trials feel so difficult, or why we can't seem to get it all together. But David asserts his complete and utter dependence on God for all of his earthly needs. With both feet solidly on the Rock of Christ, we will never be shaken and our hope, trust and peace in Christ will remain steadfast throughout every stormy gale.

It must be in God alone that we find our rest and the peace that we seek. We cannot save ourselves, nor can we save anyone else. God alone is our salvation.

David invites the people to trust God at all times in verse 8, then lists off places where their trust cannot be found. Both the lowborn and the highborn are no more than a breath or a vapour. "Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted" (Matt 23:12).

Riches are a gift from God. But with riches comes a temptation and trap into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction (1 Tim 6:9). There is a right way and a wrong way to obtain riches. Extortion and robbery are a mockery of God. There is no one and nowhere else where our hope can be found, but in God alone. True riches are not in our hands, but in our heart. How is your heart posture towards God?

David ends this psalm declaring the omnipotence of God. All power and strength belong to God alone. The power of God in Christ is for our redemption. It is in God alone, our Rock, our Salvation, and our Fortress, where our soul can find true rest. In Him we will never be shaken.

1 Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.2 From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. 3 For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe.4 I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

Selah

5 For you, God, have heard my vows; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.6 Increase the days of the king's life, his years for many generations. 7 May he be enthroned in God's presence forever; appoint your love and faithfulness to protect him.8 Then I will ever sing in praise of your name and fulfill my vows day after day. (Psalm 61)

Feeling far away from God, nearly overcome, the psalmist cries out. "Can't I just go home to your presence already, up to that place of refuge where you will shelter me? I cannot withstand the tempest that blows around me nor the foes that threaten: give me a place to hide, to be safe at last—a place to rest."

All the ways that our little church community has been slammed by death and heartache within and the pressures of a world in turmoil without, I can very easily see this psalm as our own. After much weary weeping, our hearts grow faint. After much tragedy, it's easy to feel like God is far off or that we are—to feel like we have to shout from the ends of the earth to have even a hope of crossing the divide.

Out spills the heartache and the helplessness. Out comes the admission of need—the desire to just be done with it all already. "Lead me home, Lord. Take me under your wing and care for me like my mom used to. I just haven't got the strength today."

The weeping, the weariness, and the wanting for home all plop out in a great exhale of exhaustion before God. And then: silence. In the Hebrew, the word "Selah."

It's hard to say how long the silence lasts—how long life stretches on in the in between time from the cry of dereliction and need to the response of a faithful God who loves us. Perhaps it's supposed to last as long as Holy Saturday did. That day after the first half of our salvation on Good Friday—the exhale, but before the second half on Easter when fresh, crisp air comes rushing back in.

Holy Saturday can stretch on for ages sometimes before Easter comes—before we even know whether Easter will come. But the Gospels tell us that Easter does eventually come. God responds to the cry of dereliction. Life is made new. Jesus reaches across all the divides of time and space, even of death, to catch us up under his wings and take us home.

Finally the silence of "Selah" breaks into the heritage of those who fear the name of the Lord. It breaks into the days of the King: the days of joyfully responding to a reunion and homecoming that makes our hearts to sing in the presence of Jesus and all those we long to hold again.

You have rejected us, O God, and broken our defenses. You have been angry with us; now restore us to your favor. You have shaken our land and split it open. Seal the cracks, for the land trembles. You have been very hard on us, making us drink wine that sent us reeling. But you have raised a banner for those who fear you—a rallying point in the face of attack. Now rescue your beloved people. Answer and save us by your power. Psalm 60:1-5

The backdrop of Psalm 60 is that of David and his army who fought and gained victories against the armies of Mesopotamia and Syria of Zobah at the start of 2 Samuel 8 and 10. Then Joab, the commander of David's army returned with his men and killed twelve thousand Edomites in the Valley of Salt (1 Chronicles 18:11-13).

Yet David begins the psalm with lament. Why would David be voicing such lament when in the biblical narratives they had gained victory over the enemy, not just once, but against several nations? Well, there must have been some measure of defeat in the midst of their victories. Because David knew that when the Lord fought for Israel that victory was assured. If there was any defeat, it was likely a sign of God's displeasure.

So, David appealed to God, who he believed to be, not the immediate cause of their defeat, but the ultimate cause. David asks God to restore the nation of Israel to Himself. Worse than defeat, was a sense of separation from God. Relationship with God always must come first. We too must release everything that we have placed in front of God and trust in Him alone for our provision, our safety, and the hope of our future.

Even though David felt that God had cast off and broken Israel, he continued to fly the banner of trust and faith in God. In Exodus 17, Moses stood atop a hill with his arms lifted up and the staff of God in his hands. As long as his arms were lifted up, the Israelites were winning the battle against the Amalekites. That day, the Amalekite army was defeated. Moses built an altar and called it 'Jehovah Nissi,' that is, the Lord is my Banner. The concept of a banner was connected to Israel's reliance on God and how God claims victory for His chosen people.

In verse 5, David calls the people of God, His beloved. This comes from a Hebrew word which belongs to the language of love poetry. It appeals to the strongest of bonds, to the most passionate relationship. Despite the present defeat, David appeals to God on behalf of God's beloved people. Their rescue would be found in greater trust in and deeper relationship with God, not in questioning and doubting His sovereignty and His ability to defeat the nations.

Verses 6-8 claim God as the ultimate victor. His word triumphs over the nations. David understood that God steps forward and settles disputes with His own authority. The Lord claimed the victory. Not Israel.

In my own life, I often find that although I aim to teach my children the importance of respect for one another and devotion to God, I still feel the need to be right. To be the one in charge. The one who can put everything right. But that's not my role, nor is it yours. That's God's territory. He will right the wrongs. His word and the working of His Holy Spirit always end in ultimate victory. We won't see every victory on this side of heaven, but God always has the final say.

As David finishes the psalm, he writes of his renewed trust in the God who helps. "Who will lead me to Edom? Is it not You, Oh God, who rejected us?... For all human help is useless" (v 9, 10, 11). Just as the psalm begins with a desperate cry to God who had rejected them, now David claims victory through that same God. David knows that with the banner of the Lord held high and their trust in Him renewed, that God would bring victory over the enemies of Israel.

We don't need to fight our own battles. We need to lean into our reliance on our God who has already won the battle over sin and hopelessness, discouragement, and discord.

As Proverbs 21:31 says, "The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the Lord." Although we can prepare for every eventual outcome and yield every weapon of our warfare that we know, our armour must that of our complete reliance on and allegiance to God in Jesus Christ. It is in Him that our ultimate victory is found.

"Deliver me from my enemies, O God; be my fortress against those who are attacking me. Deliver me from evildoers and save me from those who are after my blood…You are my strength, I sing praise to you; you, God, are my fortress, my God on whom I can rely" (Psalm 59:1-2, 17).

Once again David is besieged by his enemies. If our biblical editors are correct, he is in his own house with King Saul's soldiers prowling around it, trapping David inside. Since it's not likely that this is a common experience for us, how do we pray this psalm? How do we make it our own?

Here are a few suggestions:

This psalm helps us pray for our Christian family members who are persecuted for their faith. It gives us language for such prayers. The psalmist uses the words 'prowling dogs' to embody the devouring, malignant persons and forces in human affairs which seek to destroy the people of God. Many Christians live in places where this is their constant reality. When we don't know how to pray for them, the Holy Spirit has already given us words to use.

In a similar vein, it helps us pray for events in North America that reflect the breakdown of our collective security. There seems to be no end of such things: gun violence, sweltering heat, aftershocks of a 2-year pandemic, corporate restructuring leaving us hunting for a new job, inadequate housing, rising interest rates. We are virtually powerless in all these situations. Any number of things haunt our steps in the night, let alone during the day. This psalm helps us pray in those situations in which we have little influence to affect change.

Those of us who are part of the white middle class have generally enjoyed significant freedom and opportunity. We may feel as if those privileges are diminishing. But the fact is, many people, because of race, ethnicity, disability, gender, sexuality, have lived for generations without those freedoms and opportunities. It is difficult for the privileged in society to understand the realities of life without prospects. This psalm gives us a window into the life without control.

We can also use Psalm 59 when faced with personal temptations. Whether we wrestle against our own fleshly nature, the world around us or direct attacks from the devil himself, we face foes too strong for us. As Martin Luther once penned, "For still our ancient foe does seek to work us woe; his craft and power are great, and armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal."

But, like Martin Luther, we also believe, "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our helper he, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing... Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God's own choosing. You ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is he..."

It is he. He faced all the powerful forces of earth and hell itself. It is he. He stood firm, facing the full-frontal attack of the devil. It is he. He faced them and fought them, and he rose from the dead. Death could not hold him.

With his resurrection, the kingdom of God was established on this earth. It is he. Because of his resurrection, we know that God's derision and scornful laughter is more than a match for all these dogs (8).

Today, we may still need to pray this psalm. But, because Jesus rose from the dead, some day we will not need this psalm. Its time will be over. Thanks be to God. It is he!

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Daniel 4 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What power do you have?
2. Who/What are the Nebuchadnezzars of today?
3. What is the difference between knowing God is sovereign and KNOWING it? In other words, what does it really mean that God is Sovereign, and what implications should that have on our lives?
4. What paths are there to coming to this deeper, transformational knowledge of God?
5. Can we get to that place of submission and transformation on our own? Say more about God's work in transforming us.
6. How might you submit your life, in partnership with the Spirit, to God's sovereign rule this week?

Do you rulers indeed speak justly? Do you judge people with equity? No, in your heart you devise injustice, and your hands mete out violence on the earth. …

The righteous will be glad when they are avenged, when they dip their feet in the blood of the wicked. Then people will say, "Surely the righteous still are rewarded; surely there is a God who judges the earth." (Psalm 58:1-2,11)

The world is full of injustice and violence. There is nothing new under the sun.

This was David's complaint long ago. He didn't blame it on fate, evil, the devil, or any other divine or impersonal force though: he blamed it on people. Particularly on those with authority and responsibility to uphold justice and peace who had instead twisted the means at their disposal toward their own ends.

We tend to be less precise in our blame for the evils of this world. Sometimes we see the hand of the devil at work, other times it's the churn of impersonal systems that grinds people up in the gears, still other times we might blame it on our leaders, whether or not they had something to do with the issue. Sometimes we simply blame it on the way the world is, which is akin to blaming it on fate.

But psalm 58 drives us back to facing ourselves as humans as the primary cause of injustice and violence in this world—particularly those of us who have some measure of power and responsibility for others. It is people who are wicked, and it would be difficult not to see ourselves in that condemnation, especially given David's description of the wicked in verse 3 that sounds eerily similar to the doctrine of original sin.

The pictures painted throughout this psalm are pointedly graphic. The wicked are pictured as deaf cobras that cannot be tamed—they slither unrelentingly for their own benefit using their power to bite and poison. There is a prayer that God smash the teeth of these wicked, immature lions and cause them to disappear like water in the desert. And finally at the end comes the most gruesome image of all: the avenged righteous dipping their feet in the blood of the wicked.

These sharply contrasting images would remind us that there are many people—some of them among us and in our city—who face violence and injustice that they cannot escape where the lines are very sharp indeed between oppressor and oppressed. Some of us have felt this sort of helplessness ourselves. This psalm is the cry of anyone who finds themselves in just that position: as the innocent afflicted one.

But this is perhaps a good spot to remember that Jesus was also a righteous innocent person. Afflicted. The rulers devised injustice against him. They met out violence against him. Their wickedness—our wickedness as human people—became manifest against him, putting him to death on the cross. And this death of Jesus—the lamb who was slain, but who became alive again—becomes the backdrop of John's vision in Revelation.

As the battlefield image of blood-drenched fields from Psalm 58 is picked up by John, we take note that none of the violence of God that brings judgement and justice on the world is actual. Jesus' sword comes from the words of his mouth. And the only actual violence that shows up was the violence that Jesus himself absorbed from we human people as displayed in the wounded, but now living lamb.

Jesus himself took the punishment, the vengeance from God's justice, that should have been directed at the wicked, even though he was righteous. And he did that so that we—the wicked--might become righteous. This is the shocking, humbling good news of our faith. That we: sometimes innocent, sometimes wicked people, should receive the reward and vindication of the righteous.

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music. Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn (Psalm 57:7-8).

The setting of this psalm is riddled with irony. Saul, the first king of Israel, is squatting in a cave doing what people, rich and poor, male and female, must do: empty their bowels. The most powerful man in the nation is at his most vulnerable. He has 3000 of Israel's elite military with him. But they are outside, giving the king his privacy.

Inside the cave, way in its bowels, the most wanted man in the kingdom, David, the king's son-in-law and once right-hand man, huddles with his band of 400. They have hidden in the back of this cave hoping the king and his 3000 will march right on past and they can breathe for a bit. Oops. The king needs to relieve himself. This squatting king wants David's head more than anything else.

His outlaw band urge David him to stab the king in the back. God has already anointed David as the next king of Israel. Clearly, they reason, God has orchestrated this situation so David can finish Saul off and claim the throne that is his by right.

What's to stop him? Only his conscience. Only the fact that the man squatting there is the king, God's anointed. David lets him go on his way, cutting off only the corner of his robe as a demonstration of his innocence; that we will do no harm to this king.

David knows it s not over. He knows the king will continue to seek his life. Saul is jealous. In the end, either David or Saul will die. David knows that. But he will not take Saul's life. That's God's business; not his.

As he continues to keep one step ahead of Saul's murderous vendetta, David pens Psalm 57. It's filled with hope, even joy despite the precariousness of his life. It is as if he is "among lions" who are out for a kill. And he's the only prey around. All through this crisis, he trusts in God, hiding in the "shadow of His wings," knowing God will act on his behalf.

Thus, he praises his Lord, calling upon his lute and harp to make joyful music so he can sing to God among the nations. Here then is a burst of song in the storm. Many of us know these storms. They come in the form of illness, death of loved ones, financial uncertainty, job loss, break down of family relations and so many other forms.

During this storm, David sings, "My heart, O God, is steadfast." This is no trite spirituality, ignoring the realities of life in this world. It recognizes that walking with God takes effort on our part. Paul says such things as, "work out your salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12) and "live a life worthy of the calling you have received" (Ephesians 4:1) and "offer your bodies as living sacrifices" (Romans 12:1).

This is not about earning our salvation. Rather, it is about putting effort into following Jesus, learning from him. Then he fulfills his promise, "you will find rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:29). We come to places in which are hearts are steady in the storm and we can sing, "When darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace; In every high and stormy gale My anchor holds within the veil. On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; All other ground is sinking sand" (Cornerstone).

In this psalm we are reminded that praising God only when all is well is cheap praise. Praise also needs to be given when life is not good (as we normally define it). It is right to praise God for our material blessings. But it is also necessary to praise God in the storm.

That is when our praise is rooted in trust. This takes effort and practice on our part. It's a matter of growing into it. Pray that God will grow your trust and your praise.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise—in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me? (Psalm 56:3-4)

This psalm follows similar threads to the last few. Enemies pursue constantly. Prideful, arrogant people twist words, conspire, and lurk all to undercut the life of the of the psalmist. There are many reasons to fear, as pastor Michael talked about yesterday.

We can fear the big things like the culture shifts and the rising prices that we feel. We can fear personal things like relationships that fracture, challenges at work, antagonistic people, a hard decision, or the loss of something or someone that we love. Fear swirls all around us, or at least it can.

But psalm 56 largely centers around trust. When fear rises up, the psalm sees it as an invitation and reminder to turn to God and renew our trust in him. "When I am afraid, I put my trust in you." A simple, but powerful refrain.

Why might we trust in God? Well, because God is bigger than our fear. Human enemies are not God. Human problems are not bigger than God. God is the God of deliverance and salvation, and because he's God, he is able to deliver us from and hold on to us through any danger, hardship, or loss that we might fear.

This is a refrain that echoes through the Bible. Jesus takes it up, as does Paul when he writes in Romans 8: "if God is for us, who can be against us?" Indeed, he goes on to say that nothing "will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Many of the things we fear in this life are things that threaten our lives or ways of living in some way, or that threaten the lives of those we love. All the examples I've given are of that sort. Fear appears where the loss of some goodness of life is threatened, which can be from as seemingly neutral a thing as a simple change in life. Change also involves loss, and therefore can be a context for fear.

But against those fears, the psalmist who has practiced a trust in God proclaims by the psalm's end: "You have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life."

Our trust in Jesus rests on an even stronger word. The Apostle John reminds us that God's perfect love shown to us in Christ drives out our fear, and Jesus himself in John's gospel says "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." It's almost a direct quote from the final line of this psalm. For those who walk with trust in Jesus against all life's fears, the promise is that we will indeed walk in the light of life.

For those who might be interested in listening to it, the Australian band, the Sons of Korah, have an excellent setting of psalm 56, which you can search on the internet or find on Spotify, here.