Psalm 32 Manuscript

Watch the sermon here.

Sermon Text: Psalm 32
Speaker: Matt Ginter

It is good to be with you all this weekend! My name is Matt, I work as the Director of Christian Ministries for the University of Findlay (any University of Findlay students/fac/staff/alum out there?). I won’t share much about collegiate ministry today—we’ll focus on the text at hand—but I will share upfront here that we are blessed to see God moving in mighty ways on the campus, and we’re so thankful for the support and partnership of churches like Gateway. Thank you! Ok…oh, I almost forgot…sorry, kind of nervous…the one thing Josh always says every week at the beginning (looking down, recited playfully like a self-help mantra) God loves me, and they’re gonna love me too. Ok, now we can start. But we kid - if it’s your first time joining or your hundredth time, know that God loves you, and we love you too.

Both this week and next, we’ll spend some time together in the psalms. Next week, Pastor Jon will lead us through Psalm 33, a psalm of praise: Shout for joy in the Lord…give thanks to the Lord with the lyre; make melody to him with the harp of ten strings! Fingers-crossed, if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll get a harp solo mid-sermon from Jon next week (email jmckanna@gatewayepc.org with your harp solo suggestions). This week, though, we’ll spend some time working through Psalm 32 together. Unlike Psalm 33, Psalm 32 is classified as a penitential psalm. Now this may not be the case for you, but for me, the word penitential is not one I regularly use. If it sounds familiar, you might be thinking of the word ‘penitentiary’ (another name for a prison or a correctional institute). Before you start writing ‘Psalm 32 – prison psalm’ in your notes, some clarity is in order: the root word behind both ‘penitential’ and ‘penitentiary’ is the same, having to do with the idea of penance, or we might say more commonly, repentance. When someone is convicted of a serious crime, they are sent to a penitentiary as form of court-mandated repentance; a penitential psalm is an expression of regret or sorrow for sin, specifically sins we’ve committed. There are seven penitential psalms scattered through the Book of Psalms: 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143. Of the seven, Psalm 32 stands out: the other six penitential psalms record the psalmist confessing his sins to God, seeking God’s forgiveness and waiting for it to come both in feeling and in fact. Psalm 32, though, is a bit different.

There’s not the same sense of waiting in Psalm 32. The psalmist—King David, in this case—is found sharing a prayer that recalls both the ‘asking for’ and the ‘receiving of’ forgiveness from God; an after-the-fact point-of-view. It might not sound like a huge difference on the surface (Psalm 32 versus the other penitential psalms), but the difference between asking for forgiveness and knowing you’ve received forgiveness is huge! I think we know the difference by experience: think about a time when you knew you had wronged someone; a time when, deep down, you knew you had to ask for forgiveness in a relationship with someone else. I’m sure we all can recall a time when we’ve messed up (maybe you’re struggling with these feelings even now); we can all think of a time we’ve needed to ask forgiveness. How’s that feel? Before-the-fact: that dread, that knot in the stomach, reciting the words over and over in your head as you prepare to ask someone to forgive you, not knowing if they’ll respond favorably or not? How absolutely overwhelming, draining, crippling is that feeling? The anticipation is terrible… Read any of the other penitential psalms and that’s the feeling that comes through loud and clear. Take Psalm 51, for example. Psalm 51 is David’s prayer after his ludicrously long laundry list of failings surrounding the situation with Bathsheba (found in II Samuel 11). David, in Psalm 51, is pleading with God: “have mercy on me…cleanse me…wash away my sin…blot out my transgressions…” If forgiveness is coming (which it does), the David we encounter in Psalm 51 hasn’t felt it yet. He has no confidence in himself, and rightly so, as he confesses…and he has just enough confidence in God to keep asking, seeking, pleading in the midst of his pain. As we turn to Psalm 32, we find David speaking differently. Gone are the tones of desperate pleading, replaced instead with a confident sense of reflection. So while psalms like Psalm 51 have a lot to teach us about asking for forgiveness, Psalm 32 will give us insight into what it means to reflect appropriately on the forgiveness we’ve received.

If you have a Bible handy, I’d encourage you to flip to Psalm 32. As you turn to it—and before we dive into the verses themselves—you may notice a few words that just don’t seem to look like real words. If you skim the psalm in most any English translation, you’ll see the words “Selah” and “maskil” either in the text itself or included in the fine print. Translations like ESV and NIV include the word “maskil” in a superscription under the main title, while NLT references it in a footnote. As for “Selah,” you’ll find it at the end of verses 4, 5, and 7 (if you’re using NLT, it recognizes the placement of the word but substitutes “interlude”). Both “maskil” and “Selah” are Hebrew words, Hebrew being the original language in which the psalms were written. Might be thinking to yourself, “I don’t know what either of those words mean.” If that’s you, do not fear. I’m here for you…and I don’t know what they mean either. No one really knows. Both are unique terms without clear definitions, but we can get a sense of their meaning as we look at context clues.

Starting with the word “maskil,” you’ll find it in thirteen different psalms. It seems to designate a particular type of psalm, but the psalms with which it is associated represent different genres (the same way this week’s psalm is a penitential psalm and next weeks’ will be a psalm of praise). That said, we might have a clue to the meaning of “maskil” in Psalm 32—we find, at the beginning of v 8, a Hebrew verb with a similar root to the word “maskil.” The word in question in v 8 is translated “I will instruct.” So while the word “maskil” itself seems to defy simple definition, it appears to have something to do with “instructing.” In this case, then, some or all of Psalm 32 is specifically meant to instruct us. We’ll come back to “maskil” when we get to v 8 later in the sermon. Before that…

…Selah. The word “Selah” is used far more commonly in the psalms than the word “maskil.” This mysterious word shows up 71 times in the Book of Psalms (and 3 times over in the Book of HaBAKkuk, plus 3 times in the Book of HABakkuk, but that’s a story for another time). “Selah” probably sounds more familiar than “maskil.” Maybe you’re a fan of the early 2000s contemporary Christian music group of the same name. Or maybe you recognize the word as track 2 off Kanye’s 2019 release, “Jesus is King.” If you knew “Selah” as both the band and the Kanye track, well done wrecking havoc on Spotify’s algorithms. I would be fascinated to hear more about your eclectic musical tastes. Like the word “maskil,” we’re not completely sure of the definition of the word “Selah.” As we look at its usage and think about the word, it’s important to remember that the psalms themselves were originally sung collectively as a part of corporate worship. “Selah,” then, might have been a specific note of direction for worship leaders or instrumentalists. Our best guess, though, is that the word served as some sort of encouragement to pause at specific points, inviting time to reflect on the meaning of the words just sung. What a beautiful idea, to pause and reflect when encountering the word“Selah”…

What a great way to approach all of Scripture—pausing and reflecting—beyond the word ‘Selah’ itself. How often—instead of pausing and reflecting—do we approach reading God’s Word the same way we might approach taking a multivitamin. We “don’t have time” for anything more than a few verses, so we pop them in, chew ‘em for a second or two, swallow and move on with our day. My mom used to give me Flintstones vitamins as a child—anyone else take Flintstones vitamins?—well, I don’t think I ever actually took them. To be sure, my mom gave them to me…but I was so adverse to the size, the texture, the taste that I would stealthily bury them in the soil of our houseplants when she wasn’t looking. More seriously, I fear in our hectic convenience culture that we’re losing the ability to pause and reflect well when it comes to God’s Word. Of course, there’s a case to be made that even a multivitamin-approach isn’t all bad—that a little bit of Scripture each day is better than none—but it’s so clear in the Bible that God’s desire is not for us to devour His Word as efficiently as possible; instead, He longs for us to meditate day and night; He longs for us to ‘taste and see.’

Pause and reflect…taste and see…now what the Bible means when it instructs us in these ways probably goes beyond what we think the phrases mean. When we come across this idea of meditating on God’s Word in the Old Testament, a key underlying image that the original audience would’ve understood is that of a cow chewing the cud. Meditating on God’s Word should be like chewing the cud. Are you familiar with this image? It goes beyond just eating grass slowly. ‘Chewing the cud’ is when ruminant animals, like cows, with multiple stomachs, regurgitate food they had eaten previously…and chew on it a little more…and swallow again. If we’re honest, that’s not the most glamorous sounding thing. In fact, might sound a bit gross. But what a compelling image when it comes to meditating on God’s Word. Pausing and reflecting should happen while we read – we should eat slowly. But pausing and reflecting doesn’t stop when we stop reading. We should continue to meditate on God’s Word even after we’ve ceased reading, regurgitating it later to chew on it some more…

Let’s make a first, thoughtful meal of Psalm 32 now, reading—and pausing and reflecting—together. I’ll leave it to you to ruminate later… We’ll pause at each “Selah” in Psalm 32 and ask: What is it telling us about God (who He is, what’s He done, is doing, and will do) and what does it tell us about ourselves?

Psalm 32:1-4

1 Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. 2 Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. 3 For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. 4 For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah

We need to be careful not to romanticize that last image – the heat of summer. Some of us, after isolating for so long amid the coronavirus lockdown, emerging to find an unseasonably cold spring, we might find ourselves pining for a good old-fashioned summer afternoon, lounging lazily under a scorching sun…ahh, “the heat of summer.” That is definitely not the image at play here. It’s helpful to remember who this was originally written for: David was writing 3,000 yrs ago in the Middle East, with no running water, no A/C, no indoor plumbing, no Micro-Wick shirts for temperature control, no iced caramel lattes from Dunkin Donuts to slake your thirst on a hot afternoon. The “heat of summer” was absolutely deadly (and anything but desirable). In our text here, “the heat of summer” serves as the culminating image in a series of deadly images in vv 3-4 (bones wasting away, groaning all day long, strength sapped), all images David is harnessing to illustrate the devastating effects of sin in his life before he sought and received forgiveness from God. So why “Selah” after v 4? Why pause and reflect after such a depressing series of images? vv 3-4 stand in stark contrast to the confident statements in vv 1-2 about receiving forgiveness. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to make quick work of the unpleasant painful memories first, then spend abundant time reflecting on the positive feelings of forgiveness? What could possibly be gained by remembering such painful experiences so vividly?

There’s an important lesson for us here. Sometimes when we talk about our faith, we talk about it only in terms like we see in vv 1-2 – confident statements of forgiveness like “remembering the day I asked Jesus into my heart” or remembering the feeling of “giving my life to Jesus.” There’s nothing wrong with confident statements that point to God’s forgiving work in our lives! But I can’t get over the fact that David makes those same confident statements…and still talks about what life was like without the assurance of forgiveness. Do we ever talk about our faith, about being forgiven, without making reference to what life was like without it? Not David. He recalls with vivid detail what it felt like in vv 3-4. Perhaps we should too. In sharing about the faith, we ought to recall the pain that accompanied sin and separation from God for two related reasons: first, because it is good for us to remember and second, because it helps us as we relate to others.

Good for us to remember?! Whoa, waitasecond. What if I don’t want to remember? God forgave me. I would like to forget what He forgave. To be sure, there’s a place for special consideration here in regards to trauma, repressed memories, and the like. These aren’t the areas we’re referencing in encouraging remembrance. We’re talking more generally, the way David broadly references sin’s destructive power in his life. But the objection’s still there: why is it good for us to remember? A story to illustrate: Sept 2006, I received a number of stitches to close some cuts in the upper lefthand portion of my face. The doctor who stitched me up did a good job. You can barely see any scars today. [Pause] That’s the whole story. Great story, right? Not the most exciting story, I’ll admit. But…what if I retold the story (everything I already shared is true, but I didn’t include all of the details). What if I told you that the reason I had cuts on my forehead—the reason I needed stitches—was that I had been in car accident; I was t-boned in an intersection; my head went through the driver’s side window. I was severely concussed, and don’t remember anything for six hours after the accident. The whole left-hand side of my forehead was in ribbons, sliced up. It was in this condition that a plastic surgeon was called into the ER and he ended up spending three hours stitching forehead back together. At the time of the accident it seemed my physical wellbeing might be—quite literally—irreparably damaged, but by the good graces of another—the plastic surgeon—everything was put back together. He did for me what I couldn’t do for myself, and my life is wildly different as a result. How much more impactful is the story with the details before and after!? It’s not easy or pleasant to remember the injury, but it is good to remember where I came from and where I am now. And it’s the same for us with God – remembering where we came from (sin and death) deepens our appreciation for where we are now (forgiven and free). Jesus tells us a story along these same lines…

Luke 7:36-50. Jesus eating with Pharisees, well-respectedreligious types of the day. One of the Pharisees had invited Jesus into his home to eat together (presumably with a number of others). A woman enters during the meal, uninvited—a woman of ill repute, a “sinner” as the host Pharisee publicly declares. The woman washes and kisses Jesus’ feet. The Pharisee recoils. “Jesus, how could you let her do that?” he proclaims. But Jesus knows the woman’s heart. He knows she does this out of care for Him; she knows that Jesus is the only one who can help her move from the emptiness of sin to the fullness of life that comes with forgiveness. And He shares words of affirmation with her that are also true for us as we remember our sins: when someone has been forgiven much, they love much. In remembering the “much”—the much sin—that has been forgiven, the woman is moved to love in dramatic and beautiful ways. By contrast, Jesus adds in a comment to the Pharisees, saying that if someone is forgiven little, they love little. I don’t think it’s really possible to be “forgiven just a little bit” – Jesus is filling the role of master rhetorician here, employing a turn of phrase in which he points out that if we exhibit little or no self-sacrificial love, we’ve only been “forgiven a little” – that is to say, if our lives aren’t marked by self-sacrificial love, if we can’t point back to the much sin that has been forgiven us, there’s a good question to be asked as to whether we’ve truly experienced the fullness of God’s forgiveness…

Are you able to share about God’s life-giving work in your life? Can you point to the “much” that has been forgiven? I fear, sometimes, we are incapable of pointing in our own lives to the bone-shattering, life-draining pain that accompanies sin, separation from God, the way David does here in Psalm 32. How often do we, even if unintentionally, talk about God’s love and forgiveness as if all they really do is take an already ‘okay’ life and simply make it a bit better? Even if you don’t have a dramatic conversion story, can you point to sinful thoughts or patterns in your life which, without God’s forgiveness, would’ve left you irreparably damaged? Or do we cite having been ‘raised in the church’ and think that somehow exempts us from all this, as if we we were never lost in sin and separate from God in our hearts? These lines of thinking couldn’t be any further from what David’s modeling here. David speaks in earth-shattering, life-altering terms here, terms consistent with what the Scriptures as a whole use in regards to the faith. I don’t know if you’ve ever stopped to think about it, but the claims that the Christian faith make about itself are not small or subtle. Theologian G. K. Chesterton playfully remarks that they are “quite gigantesque…full of camels leaping through needles and mountains hurled into the sea.” We see the same type of claim in these first four verses of Psalm 32. Peak back at vv 1-2. David states twice that the individual who has been forgiven by God is “blessed” – the same word used in Psalm 1; the same word Jesus would later use in the Beatitudes (in Matthew 5). Your translation might say “happy” or “joyful” or “fortunate.” Whatever the word used, it’s describing more than a feeling; it’s describing a state of being where we are better off because of something outside our selves coming to bear on us in a positive, life-giving way. Nothing happier, David says in Psalm 32, than going from the situation described in vv 3-4 to that referenced in vv 1-2. There is no more gigantesque claim than the dead coming back to life. Romans 6:11, we were dead in sin but find life in Jesus Christ. Are you “blessed”? “Happy” ? “Happy” like the woman in Luke 7, forgiven much and loving much? Or are you more like the Pharisees, who were unable to point to anything of substance which God has forgiven? God’s forgiveness humbles us while making us more confident; it helps us remember our sins more vividly while forgetting the feeling of sin more completely…

We, like David in Psalm 32:3-4, ought to recall the feeling of emptiness that accompanies separation from God, first, because it is good for us; it helps us love God more. Second, we ought to recall those feelings because they help us relate to others better… How does it help us relate? Think for a second to the way Psalm 32 would initially have been shared. Out loud. In public. For everyone to hear. There were few, if any, private readings of Scripture. So here we have Psalm 32—David’s very personal, intimate struggles with sin—shared with the entire congregation! Our modern American Christian sensibilities balk at the thought of sharing so transparently; setting aside our unashamed pseudo-sharing on social media for a second, I think it’s safe to say we can be too private, too reserved about sharing our faith with others. How often do we fail to not just remember but also share about the pain that accompanies our sin and separation from God as transparently, as vulnerably, as David does here?

Just to be clear, I am not advocating for some sort of exhibitionism in corporate settings when it comes to sharing about our sinfulness. There’s a scene in a movie that jumps to mind…“We Bought a Zoo”—have you seen this? If you haven’t, it’s a sweet simple movie from 2011, starring Matt Damon, where he, recently widowed, along with his children, renovates and reopens a rundown wildlife park. If you haven’t seen it, think “Tiger King”…without all of the murder, intrigue, polygamy, bankruptcy and so on. I know some of you, in isolation, binged it, be honest… Anyway, there’s a scene in “We Bought a Zoo” where one of Damon’s workers, named MacCreedy, finds himself in a cage with lion. Given the nature of the movie, you know the lion’s not going to actually attack MacCreedy. And yet, MacCreedy still needs in a playful attempt to ward off the lion, to convince the large cat not to attack him, MacCreedy stares the lion down and growls the line, “You don’t want me. I am filled with scotch and bitterness and impure thoughts!” To be clear, that’s not what David does in the text and not what helps us healthily relate to others. David is not just drawing attention to himself with a lurid detailed list of all his debaucherous, lascivious misdeeds, and nor should you…

What David is doing—what we can emulate—is the simple act of acknowledging and sharing about the pain and turmoil that accompany unforgiven sin in our lives. He recounts, with vivid but appropriate detail, that gnawing sense of emptiness he had experienced before found and felt God’s forgiveness. And it’s not just him in the pages of Scripture – Zacchaeus, in Luke 19, shares about how empty money had left him prior to Christ finding him, forgiving him; Paul, in Philippians 3, shares how no amount of worldly accomplishments could satisfy his soul. Both men could echo David’s words in vv 3-4 here. We, like them, ought to share the feelings of emptiness not to brag about the size, scope, or content of our sins. We share to brag about the size and scope of God’s forgiveness. We share because maybe, just maybe, someone listening, deep in their heart of hearts, can identify with the helplessness, the restlessness, the hopelessness brought on by sin; maybe, in hearing your testimony, that same someone listening might experience a flicker of hope, thinking, “It’s not just me…” But we have to remember, it’s good for us, and we have to share.

vv 3-4, sin is portrayed as crushing us. vv 1-2 show a God who is able to forgive. But how do these two relate? Enter confession. Verse 5.

5 I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and youforgave the iniquity of my sin. Selah

What bridges the gap between our sinfulness and God’s forgiveness? Some of you, your Sunday School muscle reflex kicking in, might be mouthing the word “Jesus” right now…and, in an important way, you’re right! Paul, in Romans 4:1-8, quotes Psalm 32; he points out that God, in both the Old and New Testaments, didn’t have to offer forgiveness and that we couldn’t find it on our own. Jesus is the offer, and gives us the ability to respond. It’s that response that we want to consider here. When Jesus finds us, when we encounter Him, He doesn’t force us to confess, to seek to get well. He asks us, “do you want to get well?” He invites. He offers. He’s already chosen us, but He still places importance on us choosing in return.

All of this might raise an objection in your mind: if God is the all-powerful creator and sustainer of the universe—if I’m as lost as you make me out to be and He’s able to forgive—why doesn’t He just forgive me? Why do I need to ask? Why doesn’t He just do it for me? Think back to the story I shared earlier about the car accident; about my mutilated forehead. I wasn’t conscious. Decisions were made for me in the ER. But imagine I had been conscious, even just a little. You would think, if I was aware of my wounds, if I knew what the plastic surgeon could do for me, that I would quickly seek out and accept his help, right?! But what if—as ridiculous as this sounds—what if I preferred not tending the wounds. What if the surgeon lovingly encouraged me to let him try to fix things…but I, in response, insisted I was ‘alright the way I was;’ that it would probably get better with time? Now imagine the plastic surgeon, frustrated with my hesitation, forcing treatment…? You can feel the ethical dilemma there. Hopefully you can see the parallels with demanding God remove sin in spite of our response. I think it’s fair to say, in both cases, that we typically expect some sort of consent from a patient. You would think, when we’re aware of the ugliness of sin in our lives, our wounds, that we would move quickly to seek help when help is made available. But so many times we don’t. How often do we try to hide our wounds—our sins—from God? Convince ourselves, “It’s not that bad”…? Think we can fix it ourselves? Why? We’re prideful. We lack faith. Maybe hard-hearted. Maybe we’re afraid of the pain that might accompany God sewing us back up. Regardless of the reason for our hesitation, He won’t force the treatment—He won’t administer forgiveness—without our confession. Shouldn’t come as a surprise. Jesus tells us that those who think they’re healthy don’t go to a doctor looking to be cured. It’s only those who know they’re sick that seek help… David knew he was sick, sin sick. Confession is his way of ‘going to the doctor.’ “To confess your sins to God is not to tell God anything God doesn’t already know. Until you confess them, however, they are the abyss between you” (Frederick Buechner). Doctor stands ready to treat. He is able. He is willing. In fact, the cure is only available because He Himself took on our sickness that we might be well. But He won’t force you to accept the miracle cure for sin.

For anyone not raised in the Christian faith, new to these ideas of confession and forgiveness, I can only imagine this all might sound like magic potions and instant fixes. It might, if we’re not careful, sound almost like a bad infomercial: “Overwhelmed by guilt and regret over your actions? Try Jesus! Take up one cross daily for immediate and long-lasting results.” Everything in that statement is true…and it all sounds so cheesy when it’s framed that way. And yet, as Pete Greig—founder of 24-7 Prayer Int’l—puts it, “there is more grace in God than sin in you. You cannot be too bad, too broken, or too boring for God’s unconditional love, only too proud to acknowledge how desperately you need it.” “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:8-9) Have you acknowledged your sin to Him? Can you take your hand away from areas of wounding—whether the wound is your fault or not—and entrust yourself to the care of Great Physician, even if there’s pain involved in getting stitched back up…?

God’s ability to restore is sure (vv 1-2); our need is obvious (vv 3-4); confession serves as a bridge (v 5). Therefore, verses 6-7…

6 Therefore let everyone who is godly offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him. 7 You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance. Selah

Look at first half of v 6. Strike anyone as peculiar? Let everyone who is godly—everyone who has known the deadness of sin and the restoration to life only God can provide—let the godly offer prayer at a time when God may be found. Is there a time when God can’t be found? Do we ever think of God as unavailable? Inaccessible? To be sure, there’s a great place here for discussion about seasons of silence or absence of God in our lives. Suffice to say, though, the emphasis here is this: when you have the opportunity to commune with the God of the universe, you take it. Pray. Read His Word. Meditate. Spend time with the Body of Christ. Love ‘sinners and tax collectors.’ He’s brought you back into right relationship with Him. Learn of Him by reading His word. Stand in awe of Him as you notice His handiwork in creation. Listen to Him in the quiet moments. Look for Him at work in the mundane daily tasks of life. Talk with Him when things are seemingly easy. Talk with Him when the waters get rough. Why? Because—vv 6, 7—He pulls us out of the ‘rush of great waters,’ He is our hiding place, He preserves us from trouble and surrounds us with shouts of deliverance. He longs for these things in our lives, but they won’t be found apart from Him.

In the ancient world, waters—vast waters—were symbolic of chaos and uncertainty. For the psalmist to say, then, that the “rush of great waters” won’t reach the godly is to say that the chaos and uncertainty of life can’t have you if you are in Christ. That’s a giant claim. Not to say that pain and suffering won’t affect you. It is to say, though, that if you are in Jesus Christ, they can’t keep you. I have a friend, in his eighties, an incredibly godly man, who came through a season of uncertainty a few years back – his own “great rush of waters.” He was diagnosed with lymphoma. Sometime after the diagnosis, we were talking and he shared with me that in his younger years, he had always worried about the prospect of receiving such a diagnosis; of being critically ill. Maybe you can identify with the concern. Maybe you, like him, have experienced the weight of an unwanted diagnosis. This particular individual, though, shared that when the day came, when the doctor shared the news, he didn’t react the way he feared he would. Where he thought he would be grief-stricken, angry, overwhelmed…he said, “I just felt a sense of peace. It’s nothing I did. It was completely the Lord’s presence in my life. I couldn’t lose either way,” he said, “either God would heal me in this life or bring me to Himself in the next.” It’s been years since he shared this, but his confidence in God astounds me to this day. I don’t share the story to shame anyone who has struggled with receiving similar news; Lord knows the majority of us would. If only we all would place our trust in the Lord as he did, though. He knew God so intimately—Godwas his hiding place, preserving him from trouble—that sin, death, cancer ultimately couldn’t touch him. He lived out the truth proclaimed by Paul in II Corinthians 4:17-18 – “For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”

Not only is God our forever shelter and strength, but he “surrounds us with shouts of deliverance,” end of verse 7. Some translations alter the wording a bit, substituting ‘songs of victory’ for ‘shouts of deliverance.’ Same idea. But I love the immediate application that flows from this idea of God surrounding us with ‘songs of victory.’ What more is the body of Christ gathered, as the church, than God surrounding us with ‘songs of victory’…!? Week in and week out, part of God’s presence with us—and provision for us—is our gathering together to proclaim the victorious work of Jesus Christ. While we cannot gather in person at present as we may prefer, we still have ample opportunity to be surrounded by ‘songs of victory’ in our daily lives…and anticipate the day we can once again gather. But even then, our gathering here is only ever a foretaste of the eternal song of victory that will ring through our heavenly existence.

In closing, we come to verses 8-11 and a return to the “maskil,” the words of instruction. There’s a subtle shift in the audience in these verses: where the previous verses were David addressing God, here we find David turning to the gathered faithful and relaying these words of instruction. As you hear David’s instructions to the Israelite people, envision the One who is the better David—Jesus Christ—sharing these same words of instruction...

8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. 9 Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you. 10 Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord. 11 Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart!

Closing prayer: Father, we thank You for this confident, yet vulnerable, prayer from David. We stand in awe of You as a God who forgives, even though You don’t have to; as a God who saw our brokenness and stepped in, at great cost to Yourself, to offer healing. Help us to remember the depth of our need that we might love You more. Help us, in love, to reach out and share both an understanding shoulder and a life-giving hope with those around us. Father, if anyone is struggling today, feeling the gnawing emptiness that accompanies unconfessed sin, I pray they might seek You in this moment while You may be found; that they might cry out to Jesus as Great Physician to bring relief from sin. All to Your glory, Father, we lift these things, in Christ’s name. Amen.

The notes from this sermon can be found here.