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Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2758 of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Today, we step out of the shadows and into the brilliant sunlight of one of the most beloved majestic peaks in all of Scripture. We are beginning our trek through Psalm One Hundred Three, covering the opening stanza, verses one through six, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous journey through Psalm One Hundred Two, the "Prayer of the Destitute," we walked through the valley of the shadow of death. We sat in the ashes with a man whose bones burned like coals and whose heart was withered like grass. We heard the groans of the "sons of death" and saw the universe wearing out like an old garment. It was a heavy, somber meditation on human frailty and the immutability of God.

But today, the scene shifts dramatically. If Psalm One Hundred Two was the cry of the exile in the dungeon, Psalm One Hundred Three is the song of the prisoner set free. The gloom has lifted. The fever has broken. The garment of mourning has been exchanged for a crown of love.

This psalm, attributed to David, is pure, distilled praise. There are no petitions here. There are no complaints. There is only a soul overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of God’s grace. It is an internal dialogue where David commands his own spirit to wake up and remember.

So, let us shake off the dust of the ruins and join David in this magnificent anthem of the redeemed soul.

The first segment is: The Internal Command: Waking Up the Soul.

Let all that I am praise the Lord; with my whole heart, I will praise his holy name.  Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me.

David begins not by addressing God, nor by addressing the congregation, but by addressing himself. This is a powerful spiritual discipline: Self-Exhortation.

The phrase "Let all that I am" is the translation of the Hebrew word nephesh (soul) combined with "all my innards" or "all my inmost parts." In the Ancient Israelite worldview, the nephesh wasn't just a ghostly spirit trapped in a body; it was the whole self—the throat, the appetite, the emotions, the will, and the vitality. David is commanding every organ, every cell, and every faculty of his being to mobilize for worship. There is to be no silent partner in his body. His mind, his memory, his liver, and his lungs must all align to bless Yahweh.

He focuses specifically on God’s "holy name." As we saw in Psalm Ninety-nine, the Name represents the reputation and the essential character of God. To praise His "holy" name is to acknowledge His transcendence—that He is set apart, unique, and utterly pure.

In verse two, David repeats the command, but adds a crucial warning: "Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me."

The great enemy of worship is not atheism; it is amnesia. We simply forget. The Hebrew word for "good things" or "benefits" is gemul. It refers to a dealing, a recompense, or an act of treatment. David is terrified of the human tendency to take God’s grace for granted. He knows that if he forgets the "benefits," his heart will grow cold.

So, he sets out to make a list. He is engaging in the active discipline of remembrance (zakar). In the Bible, remembering is not just mental recall; it is re-living the reality of the past in the present. David is about to catalog the specific actions of the Divine King that make Him worthy of such total praise.

He forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases.

The first two benefits strike at the two greatest plagues of human existence: Guilt and Mortality.

This is the foundational benefit. Before God deals with our circumstances, He deals with our standing. The word for "sins" here is avon (iniquity)—it implies twistedness and guilt. And notice the scope: "ALL." There is no remainder.

In the Divine Council worldview, sin was not just a rule violation; it was a breach of loyalty to the rightful King, an alignment with the forces of chaos. Forgiveness is the legal decree from the Throne that wipes the record clean, restoring the person to right standing in the Kingdom. It effectively disarms any accuser in the heavenly court.

This parallels the forgiveness of sins. In the ancient mind, sin and sickness were often intertwined, both seen as symptoms of the curse and the encroachment of death. By healing "all" diseases, God is demonstrating His power over the physical corruption of the body.

Now, does this mean every believer is guaranteed perfect health in this life? We know from Psalm One Hundred Two, and from the rest of Scripture, that the faithful still suffer and die. However, this verse points to God as the Ultimate Source of Life. Every healing that happens is from Him, and ultimately, He provides the final healing of the resurrection, where all disease is banished forever. David is celebrating God as the Great Physician who repairs both the twisted soul and the broken body.

He redeems me from death and crowns me with love and tender mercies.

The imagery now moves from the clinic to the courtroom and the coronation hall.

The NLT translates this as "death," but the Hebrew word is highly significant: The Pit (shachat).

In the Old Testament cosmology, the Pit was a synonym for Sheol or the Grave. It was the underworld, the realm of non-existence, silence, and decay. It was often personified as a mouth trying to swallow the living.

By saying God "redeems" (go’el) his life from the Pit, David is using the legal language of a Kinsman-Redeemer. The Go’el was the relative who paid the price to buy back a family member from slavery.

David is saying that Yahweh acted as his next-of-kin. When David was being dragged down into the slave-market of Sheol—perhaps referring to a life-threatening illness or a spiritual crisis—God stepped in, paid the price, and snatched him back. He rescued him from the jurisdiction of the realm of the dead.

But God doesn't just pull us out of the muddy pit and leave us standing there dirty and naked. He elevates us:

This is a stunning reversal. The man who was nearly a prisoner of the Pit is now wearing a crown. But this is not a crown of gold or jewels. It is a diadem woven of God’s character.

He is crowned with Love (hesed—covenant loyalty) and Tender Mercies (rachamim).

The word rachamim is related to the Hebrew word for "womb" (rechem). It describes a visceral, motherly compassion. God surrounds the believer with such intense, loyal affection that it becomes their visible status symbol. When the spiritual powers look at the redeemed believer, they see someone wearing the royal insignia of Yahweh’s own love. We are royalty in His courts.

He fills my life with good things. My youth is renewed like the eagle’s!

Redemption leads to satisfaction and revitalization.

The Hebrew here is tricky; literally, it says He satisfies your "ornament" or "mouth" with good. The NLT renders it "life," implying deep personal satisfaction. After the emptiness of the Pit, God provides the fullness of life. He feeds the soul with what is truly good (tov), correcting the malnutrition of sin.

The result of this divine nutrition is supernatural vigor: "My youth is renewed like the eagle’s!"

The eagle was a symbol of strength, vitality, and longevity in the ancient world. There was a popular ancient belief (reflected in legends like the Phoenix) that the eagle could renew its youth by molting its feathers and growing new ones, effectively rebirthing itself.

David uses this poetic imagery to describe spiritual resilience. The God of Psalm One Hundred Two (the Creator) does not grow tired or weary, and here in Psalm One Hundred Three, He imparts that same energy to His people. Even when we are old physically, the grace of God causes our spirit to molt its old, heavy feathers of despair and grow new wings of hope. We are given the strength to soar again after we have been crushed.

The Lord gives righteousness and justice to all who are treated unfairly.

Finally, David broadens his scope. He moves from his personal autobiography ("my sins," "my life") to God’s universal governance.

Literally, "Yahweh executes acts of righteousness (tsedaqot) and judgments (mishpatim) for all the oppressed."

This brings us back to the Divine Council worldview. God is the Supreme Judge. The world is full of "oppressed" people—those crushed by tyrants, exploited by the greedy, or spiritually tormented by the forces of darkness.

David asserts that God is not passive. He is the active Executor of Justice. He takes up the case of the downtrodden.

This connects beautifully to Psalm One Hundred Two, where God looked down from His height to hear the groans of the prisoner. Here, David confirms that listening leads to action. God vindicates the victim.

This verse is the anchor for our social conscience. Because God executes justice for the oppressed, we know that tyranny—whether human or spiritual—has an expiration date. The King is on the throne, and His gavel will fall in favor of the weak.

As we pause our trek here at verse six, let us look back at the landscape we have covered.

David has given us a masterclass in preaching to our own souls. He teaches us that gratitude is not a feeling that washes over us; it is a discipline we must practice. We have to take our souls by the collar and say, "Bless the Lord! Do not forget!"

And look at what we have to remember:

Total Forgiveness: The cleaning of the slate.

Holistic Healing: The repair of our brokenness.

Kinsman Redemption: Being bought back from the Pit of death.

Royal Coronation: Being crowned with God's motherly compassion.

Eagle-Like Renewal: The restoration of our spiritual energy.

Perfect Justice: The assurance that God fights for the oppressed.

These are the "benefits" (gemul) of the Covenant. If we remembered these every morning, how could we remain silent? How could we remain anxious?

In a world that tries to define us by our sickness, our guilt, or our oppression, Psalm One Hundred Three defines us by God’s action. We are the Forgiven. We are the Redeemed. We are the Crowned.

So today, as you walk your trek, try David’s method. If you feel your spirit sagging, speak to it. command it to remember. List the benefits. And let the renewal of your youth begin.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2757 of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Today, we complete our journey through the "Prayer of the Destitute," Psalm One Hundred Two. We are covering the second half, verses eighteen through twenty-eight, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek, we sat in the ashes with the psalmist. We felt the heat of his fever, the loneliness of the "owl in the desert," and the pain of being "picked up and thrown down" by God. Yet, in the midst of the ruins of Jerusalem, we saw him pivot. He looked away from his withered heart to the Eternal Throne of Yahweh. He realized that the "set time" to favor Zion had come because God’s servants had begun to "cherish the dust" of the ruined city.

Now, as we move into the final section, the psalmist’s vision expands even further. He stops looking merely at his own pain or even just the immediate restoration of Jerusalem. He looks forward to a future generation—a people not yet created. And then, he looks upward to the very fabric of the cosmos.

He realizes that while his life is fleeting, and even the earth itself is wearing out like an old shirt, the God he serves is the Unchanging One. This section contains some of the most profound theology on the nature of God found anywhere in Scripture, passages that the New Testament authors (specifically in Hebrews Chapter One) would later apply directly to Jesus Christ.

So, let us stand on this unshakable rock and look at the changing universe through the eyes of faith.

Let this be recorded for future generations, so that a people not yet born will praise the Lord.  Tell them the Lord looked down from his heavenly sanctuary. He looked down from heaven to earth to hear the groans of the prisoners, to release those condemned to die.  And so the Lord’s fame will be celebrated in Zion, his praises in Jerusalem, when multitudes gather together and kingdoms come to worship the Lord.

Guthrie Chamberlain: The psalmist begins with a command that explains why we are reading this psalm today: "Let this be recorded for future generations, so that a people not yet born will praise the Lord."

He is conscious that his suffering—and God’s eventual deliverance—is not just for him. It is a legacy. The phrase "people not yet born" is literally "a people to be created" (am nibra). This suggests a new creation, a revived community rising from the ashes of the exile. He wants the story written down so that this new people will know that their existence is a result of God’s intervention.

What is the story they need to know? "Tell them the Lord looked down from his heavenly sanctuary. He looked down from heaven to earth."

This language reflects the Ancient Israelite worldview of the cosmos. God is in His "heavenly sanctuary" (marom—the height). This is the cosmic temple, the meeting place of the Divine Council. From this high vantage point, the King surveys his domain. He is not detached; He is observant.

And what does He see? He sees the suffering of the exiles: "to hear the groans of the prisoners, to release those condemned to die."

The phrase "condemned to die" is literally "the sons of death" (bene temutah). These are people whose situation is so hopeless, so locked down by the powers of Babylon and the spiritual forces of chaos, that they are marked for the grave. But Yahweh intervenes. He hears the inarticulate "groans" of the prisoner. The High King descends to liberate the death-row inmates.

The result of this liberation is a massive, international gathering: "when multitudes gather together and kingdoms come to worship the Lord."

This connects back to the themes we saw in Psalm Ninety-six through One Hundred. The restoration of Zion is the magnet for the nations. When God rescues the "sons of death," the "kingdoms"—the very nations that were once under the dominion of the rebel gods—will gather in Jerusalem to serve Yahweh. The "people not yet born" includes not just the restored Jewish exiles, but the ingathering of the Gentiles into the family of God. This is a vision of the Kingdom of God fully realized.

He broke my strength in midlife, cutting short my days.  But I cried to him, "O my God, who lives forever, don’t take my life while I am so young!

Suddenly, the psalmist crashes back into his immediate reality. The vision of the gathering nations fades, and he remembers his fever and his weakness.

Literally, "He humbled my strength on the way." The journey has been too hard for him. He feels like an old man before his time. The restoration of Zion is coming, but he fears he won't live to see it. He feels like Moses, who might die on the edge of the Promised Land.

So he prays a desperate prayer: "But I cried to him, 'O my God, who lives forever, don’t take my life while I am so young!'"

He appeals to God's eternity as the basis for his own survival. He addresses God as the One "whose years are generation to generation." This contrast between the dying servant and the Undying Master sets up the magnificent theological climax of the psalm. He is essentially saying, "Lord, You have so much time; can You not spare a little more for me?"

Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth and made the heavens with your hands.  They will perish, but you remain forever; they will wear out like old clothing.  You will change them like a garment and discard them.  But you are always the same; you will live forever.

Here, the psalmist soars to the height of inspiration. He looks at the physical universe—the most stable, permanent thing we can imagine—and declares it to be temporary and disposable.

He affirms God as the Creator. The earth and the heavens are not rival deities; they are artifacts. They are things God "made with his hands."

Then comes the shocking statement: "They will perish, but you remain forever; they will wear out like old clothing."

In the ancient world, the heavens (the realm of the stars and the celestial beings) were often considered eternal and divine. But the psalmist demotes the universe. He compares the cosmos to a garment—a piece of fabric that frays, fades, and gets holes in it over time.

This is a profound insight into entropy. The universe is running down. It is not self-sustaining. It is "wearing out."

The imagery here is of God undressing. Just as a man takes off an old, worn-out coat and tosses it aside to put on a new one, so God will eventually strip away the present heavens and earth to make way for the New Creation. The physical universe is not essential to God’s existence; it is merely His attire. He exists independently of it.

The Hebrew here is literally, "But You are He" (ve-attah hu). This is a claim of absolute immutability. While the stars burn out and the mountains erode, God remains "He." He is the Constant. He is the Unchanging pivot point of reality.

This passage is famously quoted in Hebrews Chapter One, verses ten through twelve, where it is applied to Jesus. This is a massive theological statement. It identifies Jesus not as part of the created order (the garment), but as the Creator Himself (the One who changes the garment). It asserts that the Carpenter from Nazareth is the Ancient of Days who laid the foundations of the earth.

The children of your people will live in security. Their children’s children will thrive in your presence.

The psalm ends with a logical deduction based on the theology of the previous verses.

Because God is the Creator (verse 25)... Because God is Eternal and Unchanging (verse 27)... And because the universe is just a garment He controls...

Therefore: "The children of your people will live in security. Their children’s children will thrive in your presence."

The immutability of God is the guarantee of the survival of His people.

The psalmist started the psalm feeling like smoke and withered grass. He worried that he would be cut off in the middle of his days. But he concludes with confidence—not necessarily that he will live forever on this earth, but that the community of faith will endure.

The "children of your servants" (the offspring of those who cherish the dust of Zion) will be established (kun—made firm) before God. They will not be swept away when the garment is changed. When God rolls up the old heavens and earth like a scroll, His people will not be discarded with the old clothes. They will be carried into the New Creation, thriving in His presence.

Psalm One Hundred Two takes us on a journey from the ash heap to the end of time.

It teaches us that when we feel physically broken and emotionally spent, we must anchor ourselves to the Eternity of God. Our bodies will wear out. Our world will wear out. The political systems and the very stars in the sky will eventually fade like an old shirt.

But "You are He." God is the same.

And because He is the same, His promise to the "sons of death" stands firm. He will look down from His height, He will hear our groans, and He will ensure that the children of His servants are established forever.

So, as you trek through your own difficulties today, remember: You are serving the God who outlasts the universe. And because you are in Him, you have a future that is more permanent than the ground you walk on.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps!   I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2756 of our Trek.   The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Our current series of Theology Thursday lessons is written by theologian and teacher John Daniels. I have found that his lessons are short, easy to understand, doctrinally sound, and applicable to all who desire to learn more of God’s Word. John’s lessons can be found on his website   theologyinfive.com.   Today’s lesson is titled 10 Times Jesus Declared His Divinity in the Gospels.

 

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly stated and demonstrated that He was God. His declarations and actions are not isolated from the broader context of Scripture but are deeply rooted in the Old Testament, which serves as the foundation for understanding His divine identity. In this article, we will examine the key moments in the Gospels where Jesus claimed divinity, using the OT to provide context and clarity. Let’s look at the ten times Jesus declared his divinity.

One of the clearest statements of Jesus’ divinity comes in John eight verse fifty-eight when He declares, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I AM.” This is an unmistakable reference to Exodus three verse fourteen, where God revealed Himself to Moses as “I AM WHO I AM.” By using this title, Jesus identifies Himself with the God of Israel, YHWH (Yahweh), who spoke to Moses from the burning bush. The Jewish audience understood the weight of this statement, as they immediately sought to stone Him for blasphemy (John eight verse fifty-nine).

In Mark two, verses five through seven, Jesus forgives the sins of a paralytic man, which prompts the scribes to question, “Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” Here, Jesus performs an act that, according to Jewish belief, only God could do. His authority to forgive sins demonstrates that He is not merely a prophet or teacher but possesses divine authority. In Isaiah forty-three verse twenty-five, God states, “I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions for My own sake.” Jesus’ actions directly connect Him with this divine function.

In multiple instances, Jesus accepts worship, which in Jewish monotheism is reserved exclusively for God. For example, after walking on water and calming the storm, His disciples worship Him, saying, “Truly, You are the Son of God” (Matthew fourteen, verse thirty-three). In Deuteronomy six, verse thirty-three, it is commanded, “You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only shall you serve.” Yet, Jesus receives worship without rebuke, implying His divine status. In contrast, angels and apostles in the Bible refuse worship, redirecting it to God (Revelation twenty-two, verses eight and nine, Acts fourteen, verse fifteen.

Jesus frequently refers to Himself as the “Son of Man,” a title from Daniel seven, verses thirteen and fourteen, where the Son of Man comes “with the clouds of heaven” and is given “dominion, glory, and a kingdom” that will never pass away. This figure is distinct from ordinary human beings, as He is presented in divine terms, receiving worship and eternal authority. When Jesus is questioned by the high priest in Mark fourteen, verses sixty-one and sixty-two, about His identity, He responds, “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” The high priest’s immediate reaction of tearing his robes and accusing Jesus of blasphemy confirms that Jesus was claiming a divine status.

In John ten, verses eleven through fourteen, Jesus claims, “I am the good shepherd.” This is a powerful allusion to Psalm twenty-three, verse one, “The Lord is my shepherd.” Throughout the OT, God is described as the Shepherd of Israel (Isaiah fourty, verse eleven, Ezekiel thirty-four, verses eleven through sixteen). By taking this title upon Himself, Jesus equates Himself with Yahweh, the Shepherd of His people. Additionally, in John ten, verse thirty, Jesus declares, “I and the Father are one,” a statement that again incites the Jews to accuse Him of blasphemy (John ten, verse thirty-one through thirty-three) because they understood Him to be claiming equality with God.

In the OT, God is the Judge of all the earth (Genesis eighteen, verse thirty-five, Psalm ninety-six, verse thirteen). However, Jesus claims this role for Himself in Matthew twenty-five, verses thirty-one through fourty-six, where He describes the final judgment and declares that He will separate the sheep from the goats. He also states in John five, verse twenty-two, “For the Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son.” This role of divine judgment shows that Jesus shares in God’s sovereign authority over humanity.

In John eleven, verse twenty-five and twenty-six, Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.” This is a remarkable statement because, in the OT, Yahweh is the source of life. Deuteronomy thirty-two, verse thirty-five states, “See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive.” By claiming to be the one who has authority over life and death, Jesus is making a claim to divinity.

In the OT, only God has control over the elements. Psalm 107:twenty-nine says, “He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” Yet, in Mark four, verse thirty-nine, Jesus calms a storm with His command, “Peace! Be still!” His disciples are astonished and ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark four, verse fourty-one). This echoes the divine authority over creation and nature, confirming Jesus’ divine identity.

Jesus demonstrates divine authority through His power to cast out demons. In the Gospels, demons repeatedly recognize Jesus’ divine identity, such as in Mark one, verse twenty-four, where an unclean spirit cries out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!” Furthermore, Jesus’ authority to exorcise evil spirits points to His unique spiritual supremacy, as even His opponents recognized that such authority could only come from divine power (Matthew twelve, verses twenty-two through twenty-nine).

In John seventeen, verse five, Jesus prays, “And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed.” This indicates His preexistence, a quality only attributed to God in the OT. Micah five, verse two speaks of a ruler from Bethlehem “whose origins are from of old, from ancient times,” a passage traditionally understood to point to the Messiah’s eternal nature.

Jesus declares in Mark two, verse twenty-eight, “So the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.” Since the Sabbath was instituted by God Himself (Genesis two verse, two and three; Exodus twenty, verses eight through eleven), only God possesses true lordship over this sacred day. By asserting His authority over the Sabbath, Jesus positions Himself as equal to God, possessing divine rights to define and interpret one of God’s most sacred institutions.

The Gospels present a clear and consistent portrayal of Jesus as God. His declarations, actions, and the reactions of those around Him make it evident that He claimed divinity, often by invoking OT imagery and references to God’s unique roles. Whether by forgiving sins, accepting worship, calming storms, or directly stating that He and the Father are one, Jesus consistently showed that He was not just a teacher or prophet, but God incarnate.

How does Jesus’ ability to calm the storm in the Gospels reflect His divine authority over creation, and what significance does this hold for understanding His identity as God?

In what ways do Jesus’ statements, such as “I AM” and “I and the Father are one,” demonstrate His divinity, and how were these claims understood by His audience within a first-century Jewish context?

How do Jesus’ actions of forgiving sins, receiving worship, and claiming authority to judge reveal His divine nature, and why were these actions controversial in the religious setting of His time?

 

 Join us next time on Theology Thursday, where our lesson will explore: The Coequality of the Trinity: An exploration through Biblical Verse and Early Church Writings.

 If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of ‘Wisdom-Trek,  Creating a Legacy.’    

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly,   I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.

As we take this Trek of life together, let us always:      

Liv Abundantly.     

Love Unconditionally.    

Listen Intentionally.    

Learn Continuously.    

Lend to others Generously.     

Lead with Integrity.     

Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.     

 

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to “Keep Moving Forward, Enjoy your journey, and create a great day, every day! Join me next time for more daily wisdom!

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred fifty-five of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The title for today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Prayer of the Destitute – Finding Hope Among the Ruins 

Today, we step onto a path that is dusty, broken, and stained with tears. We are entering the landscape of Psalm One Hundred Two, and we will be trekking through the first half, verses one through seventeen, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek through Psalm One Hundred One, we stood tall with King David. We looked into the "King's Mirror" and heard his bold manifesto of integrity. He vowed to walk blamelessly, to purge his house of liars, and to actively destroy the wicked from the City of the Lord. It was a psalm of strength, confidence, and royal authority.

But life is not always lived on the mountaintop of royal confidence. Sometimes, the king loses his crown. Sometimes, the city we vowed to keep clean lies in ruins. Psalm One Hundred Two is the dark valley that often follows the mountain peak.

This psalm stands out in the Psalter because of its unique superscription: "A prayer of one overwhelmed with trouble, pouring out problems before the LORD."

It does not identify an author—no David, no Asaph, no Sons of Korah. It is anonymous, perhaps so that any of us, when we are "overwhelmed with trouble," can sign our own name to it. It is the fifth of the seven "Penitential Psalms," traditionally used by the church during Lent. It reflects a time—likely the Babylonian Exile—when the promises of Psalm One Hundred One seemed to have failed, and the glorious city of Zion was nothing but a heap of stones.

Yet, in the midst of this devastation, we will find a pivot point of hope that is as sturdy as the throne of God itself.

So, let us sit amidst the ashes and learn how to pray when we are falling apart.

Lord, hear my prayer! Listen to my plea!   Don’t turn away from me in my time of distress.   Bend down to listen, and answer me quickly when I call.

Guthrie Chamberlain: The psalm opens with panic. There is no preamble, no theological adoration, just a desperate, breathless clutch for connection: "Lord, hear my prayer! Listen to my plea!"

When we are overwhelmed, our prayers often lose their polish. We stop trying to sound "spiritual" and just try to be heard. The psalmist is terrified of one thing: the silence of God.

Literally, "Do not hide Your face." In the Ancient Israelite worldview, to see the face of the King was to have His favor and protection. For God to "hide His face" was the ultimate disaster. It meant the withdrawal of covenant protection, leaving the person exposed to the chaotic forces of the world.

He begs God to "Bend down to listen." This implies a disparity in status. God is high and lifted up; the sufferer is low, weak, and whispering from the dust. He needs the Great King to incline His ear, to lean in close, because the psalmist barely has the strength to speak.

And notice the time constraint: "answer me quickly when I call."

Patience is a virtue, but when you are drowning, you don't have time for a long lesson in character development. You need a lifeline now. This honesty is vital. God does not despise the urgency of our pain. He allows us to put a timestamp on our requests when we are in the crisis zone.

For my days disappear like smoke, and my bones burn like red-hot coals.   My heart is sick, withered like grass, and I have lost my appetite.   Because of my groaning, I am reduced to skin and bones.

The psalmist now describes his condition, and it is a holistic breakdown. Sorrow isn't just an emotion; it is a physical assault.

His life feels insubstantial, fleeting, and vanishing. He tries to grasp his time, but it slips through his fingers like vapor.

This describes a deep, inner fever—a burning inflammation that penetrates to the very core of his structure. His "bones," usually the symbol of stability and strength, are now the source of his agony. He feels like he is being incinerated from the inside out.

The damage extends to his vital center: "My heart is sick, withered like grass."

In Hebrew thought, the heart is the seat of the will and the intellect. His ability to think, to plan, and to hope has been scorched. Like grass in the Middle Eastern sun that hasn't seen rain, he is dry and brittle.

The result is a total loss of normal human function: "I have lost my appetite." (Literally: "I forget to eat my bread"). He is so consumed by grief that the basic instinct for survival—hunger—has been suppressed.

His grief has emaciated him. The constant, audible "groaning" of his spirit has burned up his physical reserves. This is a picture of a human being wasting away under the pressure of unmitigated suffering.

I am like an owl in the desert, like a little owl in a far-off wilderness.   I lie awake, lonely as a solitary bird on the roof.

Suffering isolates us. Pain creates a wall that others cannot easily cross, and the psalmist uses striking ornithological imagery to describe his profound loneliness.

The owl is a creature of the night, a creature of the ruins. It dwells in places where human habitation has ceased. It is a symbol of desolation. By comparing himself to an owl, the psalmist is saying, "I belong to the darkness. I inhabit the places that civilized, happy people avoid."

He intensifies this with: "I lie awake, lonely as a solitary bird on the roof."

Insomnia is the constant companion of grief. While the world sleeps, he watches. The image of the "solitary bird" suggests a creature separated from its flock, exposed to the elements, chirping into the void with no one to answer. He feels utterly disconnected from the community of the living.

My enemies taunt me day after day. They mock and curse me.   I eat ashes for food. My tears run down into my drink   because of your anger and wrath. For you have picked me up and thrown me out.   My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows. I am withering away like grass.

The isolation is broken only by hostility.

When we are weak, predators circle. The psalmist's suffering is viewed by his enemies not as a tragedy to be pitied, but as a weakness to be exploited. They use his name as a curse. They say, "May you become like him!"

His mourning is total: "I eat ashes for food. My tears run down into my drink."

Ashes were the sign of mourning and repentance. He is so immersed in his grief that the ashes on his head fall into his food; his tears dilute his wine. He is literally consuming his own sorrow.

But the true source of his pain is not the enemies; it is God.

This is a brutal theological honesty. The psalmist does not attribute his suffering to "bad luck" or "the universe." He attributes it to the personal agency of Yahweh.

The image is violent: God has "picked me up"—perhaps implying a former time of elevation or favor—only to "throw me out" (or cast me down). It’s the image of a wrestler lifting an opponent to smash them to the mat, or a strong wind seizing a leaf. He feels discarded by the very God he is praying to. This reflects the trauma of the Exile, where God uprooted Israel from their land and cast them into Babylon because of His "anger and wrath" against their sin.

The result is a return to the theme of transience: "My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows. I am withering away like grass."

He is fading. The sun is setting on his existence.

But you, O Lord, will sit on your throne forever. Your fame will endure to every generation.   You will arise and have mercy on Jerusalem— and now is the time to pity her, now is the time you promised.   For your people love every stone in her walls and cherish even the dust in her streets.

Here lies the magnificent turn. Verse twelve begins with two words that change everything: "But you..."

The psalmist looks away from his withered grass-like heart and fixes his eyes on the only stable thing in the universe: "But you, O Lord, will sit on your throne forever."

He contrasts his own transience (evening shadows, smoke) with God’s Eternity. He contrasts his own rejection (thrown down) with God’s Sovereignty (enthroned). The fact that God is eternal means that the current disaster cannot be the final word. God will outlast the trouble.

Because God is the Eternal King, He must act: "You will arise and have mercy on Jerusalem."

The "Arising" of Yahweh is Divine Council language. It means God is standing up from His throne to intervene in history, to execute judgment and salvation.

The psalmist senses a shift in the spiritual atmosphere: "now is the time to pity her, now is the time you promised."

This refers to the "appointed time" (mo’ed). If this is an exilic psalm, he is likely thinking of Jeremiah’s prophecy of seventy years. He is checking God’s clock. He is saying, "Lord, the alarm is ringing. The time for wrath is over; the time for mercy has arrived."

And then, we have one of the most tender verses in all of Scripture: "For your people love every stone in her walls and cherish even the dust in her streets."

Jerusalem (Zion) is in ruins. The temple is gone. The walls are toppled. It is just a pile of rubble and dust. Yet, the servants of God "love" (ratsah—take pleasure in) those stones. They "cherish" the dust.

This is a profound definition of loyalty. It is easy to love Zion when the temple is gleaming with gold and the choirs are singing. It is easy to love the church when it is prosperous and popular. But the true servants of God love the stones of the ruin. They see the value in the dust because it belongs to God. Their heart breaks for the broken things of God. This affection for the ruins is the first sign that restoration is coming.

Then the nations will tremble before the Lord. The kings of the earth will tremble before his glory.   For the Lord will rebuild Jerusalem. He will appear in his glory.   He will listen to the prayers of the destitute. He will not reject their pleas.

The restoration of Zion is not just for the sake of the Jews; it is for the sake of the cosmos.

When God rebuilds the ruins, it sends a shockwave through the geopolitical and spiritual world. The "nations" (who are under the dominion of the rebel gods) will see that Yahweh is alive and active. They will "tremble" (fear/revere) His name.

This connects to the Divine Council worldview theme we saw in Psalm Ninety-six. The rebuilding of Jerusalem is the visible proof that Yahweh is reclaiming the earth. When He restores His people, He is vindicating His reputation.

This is Theophany. God’s glory (kavod) was absent from the ruined city (Ezekiel saw it leave). But the rebuilding signals the return of the Glory.

And finally, how does this great Cosmic King, who terrifies the nations, accomplish this work?

The word "destitute" (arar) is rare. It refers to something stripped naked, utterly bare—like a lonely tamarisk shrub in the desert. It harkens back to the "owl in the ruins."

The glory of God is revealed not just in melting mountains (Psalm Ninety-seven), but in listening to the naked, stripped, destitute prayer of the one sitting in the ashes. The rebuilding of the Holy City begins with God hearing the cry of the brokenhearted.

Psalm One Hundred Two teaches us that we do not have to hide our desolation from God.

We can be the owl in the desert. We can eat the bread of ashes. We can feel thrown down. But if we can pivot our eyes to the Eternal Throne, and if we can find it in our hearts to love the dust of God’s broken kingdom, we align ourselves with the restoration that is to come.

God is looking for servants who cherish the ruins, for they are the ones He will use to rebuild.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.    As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.    Love Unconditionally.    Listen Intentionally.    Learn Continuously.    Lend to others Generously.    Lead with Integrity.    Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

Putnam Church Message – 11/09/2025

Last week, we finished the letter of 1 John and explored how to have “A Confident Life: Absolute Assurance.”

This week, we will focus on the letter of 2 John, and as we explore the fine art of “Balancing Love and Truth” from 2 John 1:1-13 in the NIV, found on page 1905 of your Pew Bibles.

From its shallow headwaters on Lake Itasca in northern Minnesota, the Mississippi River meanders southward to the Gulf of Mexico, spawning and sustaining life along its nearly 2,400-mile journey. To many, the river is a gentle giant, an untiring benefactor of good gifts. The mighty Mississippi is a bountiful, self-replenishing storehouse of nutrients for farmland, a habitat for wildlife, and a busy highway for barges. However, if it escapes its well-defined boundaries, that gentle giant becomes an unwieldy monster.

More than forty dams and about sixteen hundred miles of levees attempt to control the mighty tide, but there are frightening times when Old Man River puffs up his chest and pushes over these meager defenses. Disastrous floods turn prime riverside property into lakes, whole towns are erased from the map, and levees in multiple states are wiped out. Without its boundaries, the river brings destruction, not blessing.

In many ways, love is like the Mississippi River. Love flows with life-giving power, but without boundaries, it can do significant harm. This may sound strange at first, but it’s true: In the name of loving sinners, we can go too far, to the point that we tolerate, accept, justify, and—in recent years—even applaud sin. This kind of love calmly sets others adrift in dangerous waters rather than moving them from death to life.

The little letter of 2 John shows us how to keep love within safe boundaries by building into our lives two solid riverbanks—truth and discernment.

As we discussed at the beginning of 1 John, we already determined that the “elder” is the apostle John’s reference to himself. It’s quite evident by the personal tone of the letter that the recipient knew the author personally and would have identified him immediately. So why call himself the “elder”? Why not “the apostle”? Or simply “John”?

By using the title “elder,” John conveys a greater sense of intimacy and warmth in his letter. It would be similar to a modern-day minister writing a note to their congregation while away on a mission trip and signing the personal letter simply with “Your pastor.” John wasn’t giving himself a demotion, as if he had resigned from his position as apostle. Even the apostle Peter referred to himself as a “fellow elder” of the church leaders he addressed in one of his letters (1 Pet. 5:1).|

|The recipients of the letter are “the chosen lady and to her children” (2 Jn. 1:1). I take the position that the “chosen lady” is a literal individual, not a figurative personification of the church as a whole. |If this is the case, then the reference to her “children” could be addressing literal children or even spiritual children for whom she was responsible. Was the chosen lady a widow with a large family? A single woman devoted to caring for orphans? A diligent worker in the church who labored at ministering to younger members of the body—her “spiritual children”? We don’t know the details. Whatever the case, it remains true that much of what John writes is intended for a larger group (“her children”), even though the letter draws attention to this individual (“the chosen lady”).

Some commentators have understood the Greek word translated “chosen” (teknon) as a proper name. Likewise, the word translated “lady” (kyria) could be a proper name. In fact, the Aramaic equivalent of “Kyria” is “Martha,” the name of a well-known figure in the New Testament (see John 11:1). Could it be that John was writing a letter to the same Martha, the sister of Mary and Lazarus, mentioned in the book of John? Could the “chosen sister” mentioned in 2 John 1:13 be a reference to Martha’s sister, Mary (see Luke 10:38-42)? As intriguing as these speculations are, they are just that. We have no way of knowing who the “chosen lady” was. Nor does it matter for our understanding of the message of this letter.

John’s love for the chosen lady and her children is grounded “in truth.” And he’s not alone—all who know the truth have a love for them (2 Jn. 1:1). Yet John is writing “because the truth lives in us and will be with us forever.” (1:2). Notice that in 1:3, John inseparably links “truth and love” to the Grace, mercy, and peace, which come from God the Father and from Jesus Christ—the Son of the Father. Firm conviction in a saving knowledge of the truth should always be accompanied by love, just as unconditional love for others should be extended within the bounds of doctrinal truth. Maintaining a balance between these two requires discernment. Commentator John R. W. Stott puts it well: “Our love grows soft if it is not strengthened by truth, and our truth grows hard if it is not softened by love.”

It’s always encouraging when you see children and grandchildren walking in the faith in which they were raised. That he or she has maintained a Christian walk and is living their faith and passing the faith on to their own children. It doesn’t always work that way, and there’s no guarantee that all our children will faithfully walk in the truth.

The apostle John puts it a little more realistically. He says to the chosen lady that “some” of her children were walking in the truth. The way the Greek reads, the “some” who were faithful to their spiritual roots could refer to a majority or to a minority. The fact that John is overjoyed at what he has learned, though, suggests that the faithfulness of the lady’s children was the rule rather than the exception. Still, not all of them were faithful.

This highlights an important principle of spiritual nurturing and discipleship. Both our physical families and our spiritual families will have members who deviate from the teaching of parents or mentors. I’ve experienced this firsthand and have seen it in countless families throughout my life. It breaks our hearts when it happens. It drives us to prayer in the hopes that those children will one day return. However, when some go astray, we shouldn’t lose sight of those who remain on the “truth walk.” John didn’t dwell on those who had taken a spiritual detour but on those who had received the commandment of living according to the truth (1:4).

What does this “living according to the truth” look like? To define this, John refers to Christ’s original command that we “love one another” (1:5; see John 13:34). This isn’t a new command, but one that had characterized the Christian life from the beginning. Loving one another and walking in truth were not meant to be an either-or prospect. If we love someone unconditionally, but they are distracting us from the truth, then we may need to infuse more truth into the relationship. John goes on to say, “Love means doing what God has commanded us, and he has commanded us to love one another, just as you heard from the beginning.” (2 Jn. 1:6).

It doesn’t have to be one or the other—either standing strong in the truth or showing love toward others. In actuality, the test of true love is whether it leads us closer to Christ. It never compromises Christ’s standards for the sake of a loosely defined unity. It never consents to sin in the name of grace and tolerance. This point bears repeating: Unconditional love must be balanced by discerning truth.

Love is like a hinge on which the door of generous hospitality turns. But doors also have locks and peepholes … and some even have alarms. So it is with authentic Christian love. Think about your own home. An open-door policy of hospitality toward friends and neighbors doesn’t mean you leave the front door unlocked at night. Nor does a generally welcoming attitude toward strangers mean you’ll fling open the door to a home invader bent on harming your family. True love never opens the door to a predator. This is the thrust of John’s instruction in 1:7-11.

If the “chosen lady” was prone to err on the side of openhearted hospitality in showing love to all who passed her way, the potential was great for allowing dangerous spiritual pathogens to get through her wide filter. Cautiousness was especially necessary when poisonous heretics were on the prowl, eager to infect well-meaning but unsuspecting believers wherever they could. John knew for a fact—both by experience and by word of mouth—that “many deceivers have gone out into the world” (1:7). They were guilty of denying the Incarnation. Jesus Christ, the true “Son of the Father” (1:3), Jesus Christ came in a real body (1:7). This is an essential foundation of Christian faith. Though the false teachers may have talked about “Jesus Christ” to get their feet in the door, they were deceivers—in fact, antichrists (1:7).

Most likely, John had in mind a heretical movement that was still in its early stages of development in the first century but would spread widely by the second century. This heresy, often called Gnosticism, was based on the Greek dualistic notion that spirit was good and matter was evil. The Gnostics believed that Christ could not have come in the flesh; otherwise, He would have been tainted with evil. Instead, they argued that Christ only appeared to take on human form.

Considering the presence of deceivers in the world, the practice of hospitality could potentially put the lady and her family at spiritual risk. This is why John urges his readers—this time both the lady and her children—to “Watch out that you do not lose what we have worked so hard to achieve.” (1:8). The consequences for being led astray into wrong teaching and wrong practice would be dire: not a loss of genuine salvation, which can never be forfeited (see 1 Jn. 5:11–13), but a loss of “full reward.” This is probably a reference to what many call “the judgment seat of Christ,” when “each of us will give a personal account to God” (Rom. 14:12).

When we stand before our Savior and Lord,/Christ will not judge believers to determine innocence or guilt—heaven or hell. That judgment of “not guilty” was already rendered when God declared us righteous at our conversion based on the saving death of Christ (2 Cor. 5:21). Because of the finished work of Christ, received as our own by faith, that is our loyalty in Him, our resurrection is guaranteed and our place in the kingdom of heaven is permanently assured (2 Cor. 1:21–22; 5:5; Eph. 1:13–14). However, at the judgment seat of Christ, our future reward, or actually our position in the kingdom of God, will be determined by the quality of our deeds and the motives behind them (see 1 Cor. 3:10–15; 4:4–5). Thus, John says, we must take seriously the balance between unconditional love and discerning truth in this life. If we allow the truth to be compromised (even in the name of love), then we open ourselves up to being led astray, which can have serious consequences (1 Cor. 3:12-15).

Of course, some go “too far” and fail to “remains in the teaching of Christ” (2 Jn. 1:9). That is, they are not guilty simply of being deceived or falling into sin; instead, they have completely abandoned the faith they once professed. They have demonstrated, through their actions, a total disregard for God’s truth and> love. In such acute cases, John says, such people “has no relationship with God” (1:9). Such a person is a deceiver and an antichrist (1:7).

John treats this kind of apostasy in more detail in 1 John 2:19, where he asserts that such false teachers never truly experienced the saving grace of Jesus Christ. Those who so radically depart from the core teachings of the true Christian faith demonstrate that “they never really belonged with us” (1 John 2:19). Had those antichrists been truly united to Christ by the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, “they would have stayed with us,” with the true church. Their departure makes it clear, however, that “they did not belong with us” (1 Jn. 2:19).

Again, this isn’t talking about Christians who entertain doubts, backslide into sin, or even temporarily stray from the right path. John’s definition of “antichrists” in 1 John and 2 John speaks to something more serious than the everyday struggles of faith we all experience. “Antichrists” are guilty of outright heresies that deny the core doctrines of the faith and fully embrace a lifestyle of sin contrary to God’s commands.

The world is full of deceivers—people who would lure us away from the truth and our eternal reward. Most false teachers use the very same Bible we use. But they twist it, adding to or taking away from its true meaning. John refers to “truth about Christ” (2 Jn. 1:9-10). We are to abide in the teaching. Those who do not bring this same teaching should be shown the door—or better yet, not invited into our homes (1:10).

What is the content of this fundamental Christian “teaching” to which John refers? Though this list is not exhaustive, the following fundamentals of our faith form a good checklist by which we can test the teachers who knock on our doors or come into our homes through TV, radio, print, or the Internet:

the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture (2 Tim. 3:16; 

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2753 of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Today, we stand at the threshold of a new royal chamber as we explore Psalm One Hundred One, covering the entire psalm, verses one through eight, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek through Psalm One Hundred, we experienced the joyful noise of the thanksgiving procession. We learned how to "enter His gates with thanksgiving" and "go into His courts with praise." It was a psalm about the people of God approaching the presence of God, acknowledging that He is good, His love is eternal, and His faithfulness lasts forever. It was the liturgy of entry.

But Psalm One Hundred One asks a follow-up question that is much more searching: Once you are inside the gates, how do you live?

This psalm is often called "The Mirror for Magistrates" or "The King's Mirror." It is written by David, and it is a personal manifesto of integrity. If Psalm One Hundred is about the public worship of God, Psalm One Hundred One is about the private discipline of a leader. It connects deeply to the Royal Psalms we have been studying because, in the Ancient Israelite worldview, the earthly king was supposed to be the visible representative of the Invisible God.

If Yahweh reigns with "Righteousness and Justice" (as we saw in Psalm Ninety-seven), then David’s throne must be established on the same foundation. This psalm is David’s vow to create a court, a home, and a city that mirrors the holiness of the Divine Council. It is a psalm of severe cleaning, purging the influence of chaos and evil from the heart of the kingdom.

So, let us look into this mirror and see if our own house reflects the King’s standard.

I will sing of your love and justice, Lord. I will praise you with songs.   I will be careful to live a blameless life— when will you come to help me? I will lead a life of integrity in my own home.

David begins his manifesto by setting his tuning fork to the character of God: "I will sing of your love and justice, Lord. I will praise you with songs."

Notice the two attributes he chooses: Love (ḥesed—unfailing, loyal love) and Justice (mishpat). These are the twin pillars of Yahweh’s reign that we saw in Psalm Eighty-nine and Psalm Ninety-seven. Before David can rule others, he must immerse himself in the nature of the God he represents. He sings about them to internalize them. A leader who does not sing of God's justice will soon become a tyrant; a leader who does not sing of God's love will soon become a legalist.

From this worship comes a solemn vow: "I will be careful to live a blameless life... I will lead a life of integrity in my own home."

The phrase "live a blameless life" literally means to walk in the "way of integrity" (tamim—wholeness, completeness). But notice where this integrity starts. It doesn't start on the public stage or at the city gate; it starts "in my own home" (literally, "in the midst of my house").

David understands that public authority relies on private purity. If there is chaos in the king's house, there will be chaos in the kingdom.

Embedded in this vow is a poignant question: "when will you come to help me?"

This seems like an interruption, but it is the key to the whole psalm. David is likely referring to the Ark of the Covenant. He wants the presence of God to dwell with him in Jerusalem, in his palace, and in the city. But he knows, from the theology of the Divine Council, that a Holy God cannot dwell with iniquity. Yahweh sits enthroned between the Cherubim (Psalm Ninety-nine). If David wants God to "come to him," David must prepare a place that is compatible with God’s holiness. He is cleaning house so that the Guest of Honor will feel at home.

I will refuse to look at anything vile and vulgar. I hate all who deal crookedly; I will have nothing to do with them.   I will reject perverse ideas and stay away from every evil.

Now, David moves from his general vow to specific boundaries. He establishes himself as the gatekeeper of his own soul.

The Hebrew here is powerful: "I will not set before my eyes a matter of Belial."

Belial is a term often used in the Old Testament for "worthlessness," but in the Ancient Israelite worldview, it carried a darker connotation. It was associated with the forces of chaos, the underworld, and the anti-divine order. By saying he will not look at a "thing of Belial," David is refusing to entertain the chaos that Yahweh defeated. He will not let visual garbage enter the eye-gate of his soul. He refuses to be fascinated by evil.

The word "crookedly" refers to swerving or deviating from the straight path. It implies apostasy—turning away from Yahweh to follow the lesser, rebel gods or human idols. David says this behavior will not "cleave" to him. Evil is sticky. If you handle it, it clings. David vows to keep his hands clean.

The phrase "perverse ideas" is literally a "twisted heart" (levaqeš). In the Bible, the "heart" is the center of will and decision-making. A "twisted heart" is one that warps the truth for its own gain. It is the mindset of the serpent. David vows to perform heart surgery on himself, rejecting any thought pattern that twists God's straight truth.

He asserts, "I will know no evil." This doesn't mean ignorance of evil's existence; it means he will have no intimacy with it. He will not claim it as a friend.

I will not tolerate people who slander their neighbors. I will not endure conceit and pride.   I will search for faithful people to be my companions. Only those who are above reproach will be allowed to serve me.   I will not allow deceivers to serve in my house, and liars will not stay in my presence.

A king is only as good as his counselors. David now applies his standard of integrity to his administration. He lists the qualifications for working in the White House of Zion.

First, the disqualifications: "I will not tolerate people who slander their neighbors. I will not endure conceit and pride."

Slander (secretly destroying a neighbor) destroys the community from the bottom up. Pride (conceit) destroys the community from the top down.

Specifically, David mentions the "haughty look" (conceit) and the "proud heart." In the Divine Council worldview, pride was the original sin of the rebel spiritual powers. It was the nachash (the serpent) and the Prince of Tyre (Ezekiel Twenty-eight) whose heart became proud because of their beauty. Pride is the specific attribute of the anti-God forces.

David says, "I will not endure it." (Literally: "I cannot eat with it"). He will not break bread with arrogance. If a courtier is proud, they are acting like the enemy of Yahweh, and they have no place in David's court.

Next, the qualifications: "I will search for faithful people to be my companions. Only those who are above reproach will be allowed to serve me."

David’s eyes are scanning the land, not for the rich, the famous, or the politically connected, but for the "faithful" (amunei—from the same root as amen). He wants people who are steady, reliable, and true to the covenant.

He wants those who walk in the "way of integrity" (the same "blameless life" David vowed in verse two) to be his servants. He surrounds himself with people who reflect his own values. This is crucial wisdom: you become like the people you hire, and you become like the people you keep close.

Verse seven creates a "No Liars Zone": "I will not allow deceivers to serve in my house, and liars will not stay in my presence."

Deceit (remiyah) and lies (sheqer) are incompatible with the God of Truth. David knows that a government built on lies will eventually collapse, because "Righteousness and Justice are the foundation of [God's] throne," not spin and propaganda.

My daily task will be to ferret out the wicked and free the city of the Lord from their grip.

The psalm concludes with a picture of the King in action. This is the application of all the previous verses.

The literal Hebrew says, "Morning by morning I will destroy the wicked of the land."

To understand this, we need to visualize the Ancient Israelite City Gate.

In the ancient world, the King or the elders would sit at the city gate in the cool of the morning to hear legal cases and render judgment. This was the supreme court of the land.

By saying "morning by morning," David is committing to relentless, daily diligence in the administration of justice. He is not just ruling from a distant palace; he is actively engaging in the work of judgment (mishpat). Just as God’s mercies are new every morning, the King’s justice must be fresh every morning. He is weeding the garden daily before the weeds take over.

The goal of this harsh-sounding "ferreting out" or "destroying" is redemptive: "...and free the city of the Lord from their grip."

David calls Jerusalem "the City of the Lord" (Ir-Yahweh). It is not David's city; it is Yahweh's city. It is the place where the Divine Council meets earth. It is the footstool of the Almighty.

Therefore, it must be clean. The "wicked" (the agents of chaos and injustice) cannot be allowed to act with impunity in Yahweh's headquarters. David sees his role as the custodian of sacred space. By cutting off the wicked, he is preserving the sanctity of the city so that the Holy God of Psalm Ninety-nine can dwell there in peace.

Psalm One Hundred One challenges us deeply.

While we may not be kings over a nation, we are all rulers over the "little kingdom" of our own lives, our homes, and our spheres of influence.

David teaches us that integrity integrates. It connects our public worship (Psalm One Hundred) with our private habits (Psalm One Hundred One).

Look at your home: Are you leading with integrity within your own four walls, where no one else sees?

Look at your eyes: Are you setting "vile things" before them, entertaining the chaos that God hates?

Look at your inner circle: Are you tolerating pride and slander in your friendships or your workplace? Or are you surrounding yourself with the faithful?

We cannot expect God to "come to help us" (verse two) if we are making our lives comfortable for the things He hates. Let us take up the daily task of clearing the weeds from our own hearts, making them a suitable city for the Lord.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.    As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.    Love Unconditionally.    Listen Intentionally.    Learn Continuously.    Lend to others Generously.    Lead with Integrity.    Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred fifty-two of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The Title for Today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Rhythm of Gratitude – Entering the Gates with Praise.<0.5#>

Today, we arrive at a beloved landmark on our journey through the Psalter. We are exploring Psalm One Hundred, covering the entire hymn, verses one through five, in the New Living Translation.

This short, vibrant psalm serves as the grand finale to the collection of Royal Psalms we have been trekking through (Psalms Ninety-three through Ninety-nine).

In our previous trek through Psalm Ninety-nine, we were on our knees. We saw the Holy King enthroned between the Cherubim, and the command was to "tremble" and to "bow low." It was a psalm of heavy, transcendent holiness.

Psalm One Hundred resolves that trembling into uncontainable joy. It tells us that the Holy King is also the Good Shepherd. It is the invitation to stand up, dust off our knees, and march through the temple gates with a song of thanksgiving. It is the only psalm in the Bible with the specific superscription "A Psalm of Thanksgiving" (Mizmor l'todah). It was likely sung as the procession entered the temple courts to offer the thanksgiving sacrifice.

It teaches us that while God is the High King of the Divine Council, He is also our God, and His courts are open to us.

So, let us join the procession and enter His gates with thanksgiving.

Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth! Worship the Lord with gladness. Come before him, singing with joy.

The psalm opens with a burst of energy, issuing three imperative commands to the entire world: "Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth!"

The command to "shout" (rûa‘) connects us back to the earlier Royal Psalms. This is the shout of homage to a King; it is the fanfare of coronation. But notice the audience: "all the earth."

This is a missionary call. Just as we saw in Psalm Ninety-six, the invitation to worship Yahweh is not restricted to the ethnic borders of Israel. It is a summons to the nations—who were formerly under the dominion of the rebel gods of the Divine Council—to switch their allegiance. We are calling the whole earth to defect from the darkness and shout allegiance to the True King.

The second command defines the attitude of our service: "Worship the Lord with gladness."

The word "Worship" (‘ābad) literally means to serve. It implies slavery or bond-service. In the ancient world, serving a god or a king was often a terrified, burdensome duty. You served to avoid being crushed.

But Yahweh demands a different kind of service. We are to serve Him with "gladness" (simḥâ). Our servitude is to be marked by joy, not drudgery. Why? Because He is a good Master. He does not exploit His servants; He empowers them. If our service to God has become a grinding burden, we have misunderstood the nature of our King.

The third command brings us into His presence: "Come before him, singing with joy."

To "come before him" implies a formal audience. We are entering the throne room. But we don't enter with a somber dirge; we enter with a "joyful song" (rĕnānâ—a ringing cry). We are happy to be there.

Acknowledge that the Lord is God! He made us, and we are his. We are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Now, the psalmist pauses the singing to give us the reason why we worship. Emotion without truth is just hype. True worship is based on knowledge.

This command to "acknowledge" (literally "Know" - dĕ‘û) is a call to theological conviction. We must know, deep in our bones, that Yahweh (the Lord) is Elohim (God).

In the context of the Ancient Israelite worldview, this is a polemical statement against the gods of the nations. It is an assertion that Yahweh is the Species Unique. The other elohim are merely created beings, lesser spiritual functionaries. Only Yahweh is the Ultimate Reality.

Then, the psalmist gives two fundamental reasons for this acknowledgment: Creation and Covenant.

First, Creation: "He made us, and we are his."

There is a textual variant here in the Hebrew. The Masoretic text reads "He made us, and not (lo) we ourselves." This is a powerful truth: we are not self-made. We did not evolve by accident, nor are we the architects of our own destiny. We are creatures; He is the Creator. This destroys human pride.

However, another reading (followed by the NLT here) is "He made us, and we are His (lo with a vav)." This emphasizes ownership. We are His property.

Second, Covenant: "We are his people, the sheep of his pasture."

This moves from the general truth of creation to the specific intimacy of relationship. We are not just His creatures; we are "His people."

The metaphor of the "sheep of his pasture" is deeply significant. In the ancient Near East, kings were often called shepherds, but they were usually predatory shepherds who fleeced the flock. Yahweh is the Good Shepherd who provides the pasture.

Sheep are dependent. They need guidance, protection, and provision. By calling ourselves sheep, we are admitting our vulnerability. But because Yahweh is the Shepherd, that vulnerability is not a liability; it is the guarantee of His care. He is responsible for us.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving; go into his courts with praise. Give thanks to him and praise his name.

Having established who God is, the procession now moves physically into the sacred space.

This describes the physical act of walking through the gates of the Temple mount and entering the courtyards where the sacrifices were offered.

The password for entry is "Thanksgiving" (tôdâ). In the Levitical system, the tôdâ offering was a specific type of peace offering given to thank God for deliverance or blessing. It was often accompanied by a public testimony.

The psalmist is saying that we cannot approach God empty-handed or empty-hearted. We enter His presence by reciting what He has done for us. Gratitude is the gateway to intimacy.

To "praise" (bārak) literally means to "bless" His name. We bless God by speaking well of Him, by declaring His attributes.

Notice the focus on His "Name." In the Bible, the Name represents the character and reputation of the person. To praise His Name is to celebrate His reputation as the God who keeps promises, the God who defeated the chaos waters, and the God who shepherds His people.

For the Lord is good. His unfailing love continues forever, and his faithfulness continues to each generation.

The psalm concludes with a final, threefold declaration of God's nature. This is the bedrock upon which all our joy, service, and thanksgiving rest.

This is the most basic, yet most contested, truth in the universe. In a world full of suffering, chaos, and evil, is the Power behind it all actually benevolent? The psalmist asserts: Yes. Yahweh is ṭôḇ—good. His intentions toward His creation are kind. He is not capricious like the pagan gods; He is fundamentally benevolent.

Here is our covenant word again: "Unfailing Love" (ḥesed). This is God's loyal love, His stubborn refusal to let go of His people. The psalmist assures us that this love is not a temporary mood. It is eternal. It "continues forever."

This connects back to the assurance given in Psalm Eighty-nine, where God promised that His ḥesed would never be removed from the line of David. Even when we fail, His love endures.

"Faithfulness" (’ĕmûnâ) means firmness, reliability, and truth. God is reliable. He does not change His mind. He does not break His word.

And this reliability is trans-generational. It is "to generation and generation." The God who was faithful to Abraham was faithful to Moses, was faithful to David, and will be faithful to us and to our children.

Psalm One Hundred is short, but it is mighty. It is the perfect conclusion to the Royal Psalms because it tells us what kind of King reigns over the universe.

He is a King who invites the whole earth to shout for joy. He is a Shepherd who claims us as His own. And He is a God defined by goodness, loyal love, and eternal dependability.

So today, as we walk our trek, let us not be silent. Let us check our hearts—are we serving with gladness? And let us mentally pass through the gates, carrying the offering of thanksgiving for who He is.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps!   I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day 2751 of our Trek.   The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

Our current series of Theology Thursday lessons is written by theologian and teacher John Daniels. I have found that his lessons are short, easy to understand, doctrinally sound, and applicable to all who desire to learn more of God’s Word. John’s lessons can be found on his website   theologyinfive.com.   Today’s lesson is titled From Eden to New Jerusalem: The Pattern of Ascent, Fall, and Redemption.

 

Throughout Scripture, a pattern emerges—one that contrasts the fall of those who grasp at divinity with the exaltation of those who receive it by grace through believing loyalty. From Eden to Hermon, Babel, and ultimately to the New Jerusalem, the Bible traces the path of human ambition, divine descent, and final restoration.

In the beginning, Adam and Eve were created in the image of God, placed in sacred space, and destined to reign with Him. Yet they were not content to reflect His glory. Tempted by the serpent, they reached for equality with God on their own terms:

“For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis three verse 5

By attempting to grasp what had not been offered, they fell. Cast out of the garden, barred from the Tree of Life, and sentenced to die, their descent began not just physically but spiritually. They traded divine fellowship for exile and mortality.

The next great rebellion came not from humans alone, but from the spiritual realm. According to 1 Enoch 6, the sons of God descended upon Mount Hermon and made a pact to defy God by taking human wives and producing the Nephilim. Their actions unleashed chaos and violence across the earth.

This attempt to force a merger of heaven and earth on their own terms brought catastrophic consequences. God judged the Watchers, bound them in the Abyss, and destroyed their offspring in the Flood. Yet their spirits—demons—remained to corrupt mankind.

The descent from Hermon marked not exaltation but divine exile, and it echoes the same pattern: those who attempt to seize divine authority fall into judgment.

The next great act of rebellion came at Babel. Humanity, unified in language and purpose, sought to reach the heavens:

“Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves…” Genesis Eleven verse 4

Though the text says they were “one people,” this unity was likely driven by demonic influence—a renewed attempt to reopen the spiritual gateway severed at the Flood. Some modern theological reconstructions suggest the builders, influenced by demonic forces, may have sought to create a gateway that would allow the imprisoned Watchers to rise again and make war on Heaven itself.

But the plan was doomed.

God had already sentenced the Watchers to the Abyss, and no human or spiritual force could overturn that judgment. 1 Enoch 10; 2 Peter two verse 4; Jude 6. God scattered the nations, confused their language, and divorced them. Deuteronomy thirty-two, verses eight and nine. The effort to rise led, once again, to descent.

Where man fell by grasping, Yahweh triumphed by surrendering in the person of Jesus Christ. Though fully a member of the Trinity, He did not cling to His divine status:

“Though he was in the form of God, he did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped… he humbled himself… even to death on a cross.” Philippians two verses eight and nine.

 

This was not a loss of deity but an act of humility and mission. Having completed His work, Christ took up again the glory that was always His by nature. John seventeen verse five. His descent into the lower parts of the earth. Ephesians four verse nine broke the power of death. His resurrection and ascension reclaimed the nations disinherited at Babel and offered resurrection life to all who believe.

The story ends not with man climbing back to God, but with God bringing Heaven down to man:

“And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God… Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man.” Revelation twenty one verses two and three.

 

What was lost in Eden is restored. The nations, once scattered and deceived, are healed by the river that flows from God’s throne (Revelation twenty two verse two. Those who once tried to make themselves gods now live as glorified children of God, reigning with Him forever.

The pattern is clear. Those who seek to ascend by their own power fall. But those who trust in the One who descended are lifted up. The path to divinity is not through pride, ritual, or rebellion, but through believing loyalty to the One who gave Himself for us.

“To all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” John one verse twelve.

 

In the end, the question is not whether we will rise, but how. Will we grasp for the throne, or will we bow to the King who descended so we might be raised with Him?

The promise of the garden is reestablished. The mountain is redeemed. The tower lies in ruins. The cross stands eternal. And the city of God descends—not to be stormed by man, but to welcome those who call Him Father.

In the biblical story, every attempt by created beings to rise above their station results in humiliation, exile, or death. Eden, Hermon, and Babel all showcase this tragic arc. But in the person of Jesus Christ, Yahweh Himself reverses the pattern: descending in humility, defeating the grave, and raising up all who place their loyal trust in Him.

It is not through seizing glory that humanity is restored, but through surrendering to the One who gave it up so that we might share in it forever.

Why do you think Scripture consistently shows that attempts to ascend to God’s level result in exile, death, or judgment? What does this reveal about the nature of pride and autonomy in the biblical worldview?

How does the descent of Yahweh in the person of Jesus Christ differ from all other acts of descent or ascent in the Bible, and why is this distinction crucial for understanding salvation?

In what ways does the biblical pattern of false ascent followed by divine descent challenge modern views of self-exaltation, personal autonomy, or spiritual self-realization?

What does the final act of God bringing Heaven down to Earth in Revelation 21–22 teach us about His desire for relationship with humanity? How should this shape our view of eternity and our present mission?

How does Christ’s death and resurrection serve as a turning point in spiritual authority, and what does this mean for the current rule of Satan over the nations?

 Join us next time on Theology Thursday, where our lesson will explore: 10 Times Jesus Declared His Divinity in the Gospels.

 If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of ‘Wisdom-Trek,       Creating a Legacy.’    

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly,   I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.

As we take this Trek of life together, let us always:     

Liv Abundantly.    

Love Unconditionally.    

Listen Intentionally.    

Lend to others Generously.    

Lead with Integrity.    

Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.    

I am Guthrie Chamberlain   reminding you to      ’ Keep Moving Forward,’       ‘Enjoy your Journey,’        and ‘Create a Great Day, Everyday!      Join me next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Welcome to Wisdom-Trek with Gramps! I am Guthrie Chamberlain, and we are on Day two thousand seven hundred fifty of our Trek. The Purpose of Wisdom-Trek is to create a legacy of wisdom, to seek out discernment and insights, and to boldly grow where few have chosen to grow before.

The Title of Today’s Wisdom-Trek is: The Holy King Enthroned – Trembling Before the Trisagion <0.5#>

Today, we reach the summit of the Royal Psalms as we explore Psalm Ninety-nine, covering the entire hymn, verses one through nine, in the New Living Translation.

In our previous trek through Psalm Ninety-eight, we joined the global victory parade.   We saw the sea shouting, the rivers clapping, and the hills singing for joy because the Divine Warrior had won the battle for the cosmos.   It was a psalm of unbridled exuberance and noise.

Psalm Ninety-nine shifts the atmosphere from joyful noise to trembling awe.   While the previous psalms focused on God’s power and His reign, this psalm focuses intensely on His Holiness.   In fact, this psalm is structured around a threefold declaration—a Trisagion—that announces, "He is holy!" at the end of each stanza.

It reminds us that the King we celebrate is not just powerful; He is Other.   He is transcendent.   He is separated from all corruption and chaos.   And because He is holy, our approach to Him must be marked by reverence.   We move from the cheering crowd to the kneeling priesthood.

So, let us take off our shoes, for we are standing on holy ground.

The Lord is king! Let the nations tremble! He sits on his throne between the cherubim. Let the whole earth shake.  The Lord sits in majesty in Jerusalem, supreme above all the nations.  Let them praise your great and awesome name. Your name is holy!

The psalm begins with the familiar coronation cry: "The Lord is king!"

But notice the reaction commanded this time.   In Psalm Ninety-seven, the earth was told to "rejoice."   In Psalm Ninety-eight, it was told to "shout."   Here, the command is: "Let the nations tremble!" (rāgaz—to quake, shake, or be agitated).   And "Let the whole earth shake."

Why the fear? Because "He sits on his throne between the cherubim."

This is a powerful image that bridges heaven and earth.   In the earthly Temple, the Ark of the Covenant was the footstool of God's throne, flanked by golden cherubim.   But in the Ancient Israelite worldview, this was merely a copy of the true reality in the Divine Council.   Yahweh sits enthroned above the living Cherubim—the terrifying, powerful spiritual guardians of His holiness.   He is the Master of the spiritual realm.

For the "nations"—who have been serving lesser, rebel elohim—the realization that the High King has taken His seat "between the cherubim" is a cause for trembling.   It means their time of autonomy is over.   The True Emperor has returned to the capital.

He is "Supreme" (rām—high, exalted).   This asserts His absolute superiority over the gods of the nations.   He is not a local deity; He is the High God.

The proper response from the nations is to "praise your great and awesome name."

"Awesome" (nôrâ) means fear-inspiring or terrible.   We often use "awesome" lightly, like "that pizza was awesome."   But biblically, "awesome" describes something so overwhelming it makes you want to hide your face.

And then comes the first refrain: "Your name is holy!"

Holiness (qāḏôš) is the defining attribute of God.   It means He is utterly unique, completely separate from creation, and morally pure.   He is in a class by Himself.   The nations tremble because they are confronted with a Being who is totally unlike their capricious, limited idols.

Mighty King, lover of justice, you have established fairness. You have acted with justice and righteousness throughout Israel.  Exalt the Lord our God! Bow low before his feet, for he is holy!

The second stanza moves from God’s transcendent power to His moral character.   "Mighty King, lover of justice, you have established fairness."

In the ancient world, power and justice were often opposites.   The powerful did what they wanted.   But Yahweh is unique because He is a "lover of justice" (mishpat).   He doesn't just do justice; He loves it.   It is His passion.

"You have established fairness."   The word here is meysharim—equity or straightness.   God has created a moral structure for the universe.   He has set up the rules of the game so that they are fair.

God has a track record.   In His dealings with Jacob (Israel), He has proven that He upholds the law.   He punishes sin and rewards obedience.   He is not arbitrary.   This stability is a massive comfort.   A King with infinite power who was not a lover of justice would be a cosmic tyrant.   But a King who marries Omnipotence with Goodness is worthy of worship.

So the command is given: "Exalt the Lord our God! Bow low before his feet, for he is holy!"

To "exalt" (rûm) means to lift Him up high.   To "bow low" (ḥāwâ) means to prostrate oneself.   Specifically, we are to bow at His "feet" (literally, His "footstool").   In the temple imagery, the Ark of the Covenant was the footstool of God’s throne.   We are invited to come to the very edge of His presence, to the place where His feet touch the earth, and lay ourselves down.

And for the second time, the reason is given: "for he is holy!"   His moral perfection demands our submission.

Moses and Aaron were among his priests; Samuel also called on his name. They cried to the Lord for help, and he answered them.  He spoke to Israel from the pillar of cloud, and they followed the laws and decrees he gave them.  O Lord our God, you answered them. You were a forgiving God to them, but you punished them when they went wrong.  Exalt the Lord our God, and worship at his holy mountain in Jerusalem, for the Lord our God is holy!

The final stanza brings this transcendent, just King into relationship with humanity through mediators.   "Moses and Aaron were among his priests; Samuel also called on his name."

Why these three men?   Moses, Aaron, and Samuel were the great intercessors of Israel’s history.   They were the men who stood in the breach when God’s holiness was about to consume the people for their sin.   They prove that the Holy God is approachable, provided you approach Him through His appointed representatives and in His appointed way.

This is the miracle of prayer.   The God who sits between the Cherubim, who makes the nations tremble, listens to the cry of a man.   He is not so high that He is deaf.

Communication flows both ways.   God answers prayer, and God speaks His will.   The "pillar of cloud" recalls the wilderness journey, the visible sign of God’s presence and guidance.   The relationship is based on revelation and obedience.   God speaks; we follow.

Then, the psalmist captures the complex, beautiful tension of living with a Holy God: "O Lord our God, you answered them. You were a forgiving God to them, but you punished them when they went wrong."

This is the most profound theological statement in the psalm.   God is a "forgiving God" (El nosé—a God who lifts up or carries away sin).   Yet, He is also an "avenger" (noqēm) of their deeds.

How can He be both?   He forgives the sinner (restoring the relationship), but He punishes the sin (imposing consequences).   Moses was forgiven for striking the rock, but he was still barred from the Promised Land.   David was forgiven for his adultery, but the sword never departed from his house.

God’s holiness means He cannot pretend sin didn't happen.   He must address it.   His justice demands consequences ("punished them when they went wrong").   But His love provides a way for the relationship to continue ("You were a forgiving God").   This balance prevents us from treating grace cheaply or despairing under discipline.   It teaches us to fear Him and to love Him simultaneously.

The psalm concludes with a final, amplified call to worship: "Exalt the Lord our God, and worship at his holy mountain in Jerusalem, for the Lord our God is holy!"

This is the third and final declaration: "For the Lord our God is holy!"

We are called to His "holy mountain."   Worship is an ascent.   It requires effort.   It requires leaving the common plains and climbing up to where God is.

Psalm Ninety-nine leaves us on our knees.

It teaches us that God is the King who makes the earth shake.   He is the Judge who loves equity.   And He is the Person who speaks, listens, forgives, and disciplines.

His holiness is not a barrier to keep us out; it is the very thing that makes Him trustworthy.   If He were not holy, He might be corrupt.   If He were not holy, His forgiveness would be meaningless.

So, as we walk our trek today, let us carry a sense of holy trembling.   Let us rejoice that we have a King who answers when we cry, but let us never forget that He sits between the Cherubim.   Let us worship Him in the beauty of holiness.

If you found this podcast insightful, please subscribe and leave us a review, then encourage your friends and family to join us and come along tomorrow for another day of, ‘Wisdom-Trek, Creating a Legacy.’

Thank you so much for allowing me to be your guide, mentor, and, most importantly, I am your friend as I serve you through this Wisdom-Trek podcast and journal.   As we take this Trek of life together, let us always: Live Abundantly.   Love Unconditionally.   Listen Intentionally.   Learn Continuously.   Lend to others Generously.   Lead with Integrity.   Leave a Living Legacy Each Day.

I am Guthrie Chamberlain, reminding you to’ Keep Moving Forward,’ ‘Enjoy your Journey,’ and ‘Create a Great Day…Everyday! See you next time for more daily wisdom!

 

Putnam Church Message – 11/02/2025

Last week, we continued through the letter of 1 John and explored how to have “A Confident Life: Believers, Overcomers, and Witnesses.”

This week, we will be exploring the final message in the letter of 1 John and exploring how to have “A Confident Life: Absolute Assurance” from 1 John 5:13-21 in the NIV, found on page 1903 of your Pew Bibles.

I read a story of two young men who grew up in the Northwest. Whenever they reach critical moments in their lives, they read letters written by their mother—letters in her familiar handwriting, sent to encourage and exhort her boys as they grow from childhood to manhood. Letters written for birthdays, for Christmas, for graduation from high school. To these boys, those letters from Mom are expressions of her endearing and enduring love. They are frameable.

Why do these sons hold these letters from Mom so dear? Because their mother died of cancer years earlier, when they were very young. The disease was taking its toll on her day after day, but instead of lying there wasting away, she spent her time writing letters to her two boys to be delivered to them at specific times in their lives. And on these occasions, the boys’ father would deliver the letters. They would hear from their mother, in her own words —words of endearing and enduring love.

Similarly, the apostle John has left all of God’s spiritual children a frameable letter—a letter of endearing and enduring love. A letter of encouragement and exhortation. A letter of warning and instruction. A letter of absolute assurance. This letter, 1 John, has been preserved for us through the centuries. It’s a simple, straightforward, but profound and practical, letter of love.

John ended the previous section with great words of assurance: And this is what God has testified: He has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. 12 Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have God’s Son does not have life. (1 Jn. 5:11–12). In 5:13, he concludes his letter with another pointed assurance worth remembering. John presents the purpose of this endearing and enduring letter to his readers in clear terms. He wrote I have written this to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know you have eternal life. (5:13). This assurance of the present possession of eternal life is limited, /though, /to those “who believe in the name of the Son of God.” Those who have placed their faith in Christ’s person and work alone can know that they have eternal life. Assurance of salvation is not only possible; it’s part of the gift of salvation by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone.

The verb translated as “know” (oida) appears in 1 John a total of 15 times. Almost half of these occurrences are concentrated in this final section. It’s evident that, as John concludes this letter, he wants to impart stable knowledge to his readers, providing them with a basis for confident assurance. What does he want them to know? (Bulletin)

“I have written this to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know you have eternal life.” (5:13)

“And since we know he hears us when we make our requests, we also know that he will give us what we ask for.” (5:15)

“We know that God’s children do not make a practice of sinning.” (5:18)

“We know that we are children of God.” (5:19)

“We knowthat the Son of God has come and has given us understanding so that we may know Him who is true.” (5:20)

Note that many of these things touch on themes John has already visited—and revisited—previously in his letter. But John wants to leave his readers with a powerful reminder of assurance so that we can grow in confidence in matters concerning our relationship with Christ. We maintain this confidence through constant reminders. As we walk through 5:14–21, let’s take a closer look at the things—in addition to eternal life—that John wants us to know.

John wants us to know that we can receive what we ask of God through prayer. We need to be careful here because John frames this statement in a particular theological and biblical context. Prayer is not wishful thinking, hoping against hope, dreaming big, or desiring to fulfill the longing of the flesh. God’s not a heavenly genie who operates at our beck and call, and prayer isn’t the Christian method of rubbing the lamp to get God’s attention. We must never fall into the unspiritual and dangerous trap of regarding prayer as a convenient means of imposing our will on God or bending His will to our will. Rather, prayer is a means of submitting our will to His. So, every true prayer is a variation of the theme, “Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.” (see Luke 22:42).

In all cases, God holds the outcome of the prayer in His hands and answers it according to His plan and purpose—always for His glory and our good. Remember Hebrews 4:16: “So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.” We don’t come groveling, pleading, begging, or bargaining. Entering His presence boldly, but with proper humility, we acknowledge that He has the power to give us what we ask … but also the right to answer however He pleases. And we know that, however He answers—“Yes,” “No,” “Wait,” or “Here’s something better”—And we know that God causes everything to work together[a] for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Rom. 8:28).

So, we approach Him with confidence according to His will. Not our will, His will. Of course, this means we need to be saturated with His Word to know His will. I’m convinced that this is why mature believers who have experienced a lifetime of learning and submitting to God’s>will can be such powerful prayer warriors. They know what to ask for. They know how to ask for it. They know—with the confidence that comes from knowing God’s will—that He hears them (1 Jn. 5:15). And if He hears them, they know they will receive what they ask from Him.

Because we can’t always know what God’s will might be or what answer He has in store for us in His own time, we need to be careful about expecting God to do things just because we ask Him. God never promised to make us rich. Or to move in our boss’s heart to give us a promotion. Or to heal us of our bodily infirmities. Or to take away this or that particular trial or tribulation. Because God has not explicitly revealed His will in these matters, we would overstep our bounds to “claim” them as answered according to our own will. Never promise somebody else that their prayers or your prayers will bring about something God has not specifically promised.

John underscores this fact in 5:16-17, in which he refers to two kinds of sins—“a sin not leading to death” and “a sin leading to death.” For the former type of sin, prayer on a person’s behalf is entirely appropriate and will result in God’s healing and forgiveness. For the second kind of sin, prayer on a person’s behalf will be ineffectual. This much is clear from the text: For some things, prayer is according to God’s will, but for other things, it’s not.

But what, exactly, does John mean by “a sin that leads to death” and “sinning in a way that does not lead to death”? To what sin, specifically, is he referring? Is it a single sin? Or a category of sins? And what kind of “death” is this? Physical death? Spiritual death?

I have racked my brain for years over these two verses. Though I may not be able to untie this knot of a passage completely, let me offer a few comments that at least might help loosen it a bit.

First, we need to determine whether John was referring to a specific sin … or to a type of sin … or to a certain duration of sin. If this is a specific sin, it could be a reference to what Jesus said in Mark 3:29 Anyone who blasphemes the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven. This is a sin with eternal consequences. I have concluded that this is someone who knowingly rejects Christ as the incarnate Son of God and refuses to listen to the Holy Spirit's prompting to salvation and has committed blasphemy of the Holy Spirit.

However, it is equally plausible that John was referring not to a specific kind or quality of sin, but to a situation in which a person’s persistent sin ultimately results in their being punished by physical death as judgment from the Lord. We see examples of this in the New Testament, as in the cases of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1-11) and those in Corinth who were judged with physical death because they sinned against the corporate body of Christ in mistreating the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:27-30). James may also allude to this kind of scenario in James 5:14-16: Are any of you sick? You should call for the elders of the church to come and pray over you, anointing you with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. And if you have committed any sins, you will be forgiven.

Suppose John had in mind a similar situation in 1 John 5:16-17, in which a person presumed to be a believer is not just sick but is actually judged with physical death for their sin. In that case, John is simply saying that after a person has died, there is no need to pray for that person. This would call into question the Roman Catholic doctrine of prayers on behalf of the dead or any opportunity for repentance or forgiveness after death. A person may be prayed for all the way up to their death, but “And just as each person is destined to die once and after that comes judgment” (Heb. 9:27).

This discussion has only scratched the surface. I agree with commentators who suggest the key to unlocking this riddle was likely lost in the first century with John and his original readers, who may have had a clearer understanding of what John was writing about. However, let’s not lose sight of the big picture: Praying according to God’s revealed will is effective. We can have absolute confidence that He hears us.

John returns to his assertion that those who are truly born again do not live in perpetual sin (1 Jn. 5:18). I understand the present tense of the verb “to sin” as a reference to continuous action, emphasizing the person’s lifestyle. It doesn’t mean that we never slip into acts of sin (see 1:8–10). It means that we don’t permanently persist in sin. Thus, John is simply reiterating the teaching from 3:9: Those who have been born into God’s family do not make a practice of sinning, because God’s life[a] is in them. So they can’t keep on sinning, because they are children of God.

As harsh as it may sound, the implication of John’s teaching here is that we can know with a fair amount of assurance that if a person’s lifestyle—start to finish, dawn to dusk, day in and day out, month after month—is characterized by stubborn wickedness, that person is not truly born again. Habitual, unrepentant sin and the new birth are incompatible.

John explains why a truly saved person cannot continuously sin: because “We know that God’s children do not make a practice of sinning, for God’s Son holds them securely, and the evil one cannot touch them.” (5:18). Those who God’s Son holds securely are freed from the domain of death, We know that we are children of God and that the world around us is under the control of the evil one. (5:19). If a person is genuinely born of God, Satan has no power over them. We are children of God,”—we are ultimately able to keep the saved child of God out of the grip of the devil. How? As John has said before, “You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world.” (4:4).

The last thing John says is that we know that the Son of God has come, and he has given us understanding so that we can know the true God (5:20). This line sums up so much of what John has been teaching throughout the letter—our union with God through an intimate knowledge of Him, and Jesus’>true identity as the God-man who has come to earth as our Savior. John then says, He is the only true God, and he is eternal life. (5:20).

Anything else we might be tempted to rely upon for our salvation is an idol. It may be a different “Jesus” other than the God-man. It may be a different “gospel” other than the atoning death and resurrection of Christ. It may be a different means of salvation other than by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone. Anything we might conjure up ourselves that replaces “the only true God, and he is eternal life.” is an idol.

 

Thus, John leaves his readers with this final warning: Dear children, keep away from anything that might take God’s place in your hearts (5:21). Idols can be anything in our hearts, minds, or lives that we elevate above the living God:

 

any object of devotion that distracts us from Christ.

any sin that separates us from reconciliation and intimacy with Him

any good work that we perform to try to gain His favor, which is received only by grace through faith.

any person we adore more than Him.

any truth claim we prefer to God’s inspired Word.

For those of us who have absolute assurance of our salvation, Christ and Christ alone should be the object of our priorities, passions, and pursuits. All other things must take second place to an intimate, obedient, and loving communion with Him. Such fellowship with the Father, through the Son and by the Holy Spirit, will result in a confident life.

Before we turn the page on 1 John, let’s pause, step back, and take one last look at the letter as a whole to reflect on the journey we’ve taken. In so doing, we’ll glean some final practical applications. Remember that John wrote this letter to remind his readers that Spirit-enabled fellowship with the Father and Son produces a joyful life (1:1–10), a clean life (