When we consider Psalm 119, the longest of all the psalms, we see in a very real sense that its meaning is in its magnitude. It is an extended meditation upon the revelation of God, the sheer size of which overwhelms the reader with an inundation of lofty poetry and exalted refrains. One-hundred and seventy-six verses—each of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet represented by its own set of eight verses—all pile upon one another to form a psalm whose weightiness cannot be ignored.

Yet even in the midst of so many verses, the psalm never comes across as merely repetitive. It reveals subtle nuances, takes delicate turns, and makes use of varied perspectives. Not one of the lines is a throw-away. Every word contributes to the psalm. The psalm itself serves as a microcosm of the depth and variety of God’s self-revelation.

Perhaps no better overview could be supplied than that of Charles Spurgeon:

This psalm is a wonderful composition. Its expressions are many as the waves, but its testimony is one as the sea. It deals all along with one subject only; but although it consists of a considerable number of verses, some of which are very similar to others, yet throughout its one hundred and seventy-six stanzas the self-same thought is not repeated: there is always a shade of difference, even when the color of the thought appears to be the same. Some have said that in it there is an absence of variety; but that is merely the observation of those who have not studied it.

Spurgeon goes on to expound further on the variety of Psalm 119:

Its variety is that of a kaleidoscope: from a few objects innumerable permutations and combinations are produced. In the kaleidoscope you look once, and there is a strangely beautiful form; you shift the glass a very little, and another shape, equally delicate and beautiful, is before your eyes. So it is here. What you see is the same, and yet never the same: it is the same truth, but it is always placed in a new light, put in a new connection, or in some way or other invested with freshness.

And this is entirely appropriate. After all, the theme of the psalm is God’s revelation—something which the Psalmist itself declares to be a delight (24), good (39), righteous (62), better than gold and silver (72), sure (86), life-giving (93), exceedingly broad (96), sweeter than honey (103), a lamp (105), right (128), wonderful (129), true (142), and enduring forever (160). If these are the qualities of God’s revelation, then it deserves to be praised with the kind of fresh, vibrant reverberation that Psalm 119 affords.

Ultimately, this psalm is meant to inspire love for the word of God within the hearts of the people of God. Those souls who look lazily and indifferently upon the self-revelation of the sovereign Lord of the universe are called to ponder anew the glory and majesty of a speaking, acting, commanding, teaching God. They are called to delight themselves in that which is surpassingly delightful. They are called to feast upon life-giving, soul-nourishing food. And as a result, they are called join the Psalmist in heart-stirring praise. Indeed, nobody who truly understands the nature and merits of God’s word can realistically do anything less than worship.

The question for contemporary readers then becomes this: If forced to write nearly two-hundred verses on Scripture, what could I come up with? Would I merely repeat the three or four dusty old doctrines that have been handed down to me? Or would I overflow with joy while reciting my manifold experiences with God’s word, my confidence in it, and my longing for it? Do I have such a wealth of experiential knowledge that I could wax eloquent for verse after verse without growing bored or running out of material? Or am I merely a well-trained parrot who is able to lifelessly recite certain facts that I have known since first-grade Sunday school class?

The way we answer these questions are perhaps as good of a barometer as any for determining how fervent our affections are for God’s word. And determining how fervent our affections are for God’s word is perhaps as good of a barometer as any for determining how fervent our affections are for God himself.

So as it turns out, Psalm 119 is more than just a really long acrostic poem. It is a pinnacle of Scripture which celebrates the immense depth, complete beauty, matchless perfection, and endless delight of God’s revelation—all while confronting those who see it as anything less than immensely deep, completely beautiful, matchlessly perfect, and endlessly delightful.

Spurgeon’s words once again provide an appropriate closing thought:

What favored beings are those to whom the Eternal God has written a letter in his own hand and style! What ardor of devotion, what diligence of composition, can produce a worthy eulogium for the divine testimonies! If ever one such has fallen from the pen of man it is this 119th Psalm, which might well be called the holy soul’s soliloquy before an open Bible.

You and I have a natural predisposition toward lethargy, boredom, indifference, apathy, sluggishness, laziness, lifelessness, dullness, and inertia when it comes to our worship of God. We tend toward coldness in our affections, aided by a perpetual temptation to be small-minded, self-centered, and passive as we live out the Christian life. As a result, we become mechanical and distant in our religious exercises, gradually accepting spiritual gloominess as a tolerable norm.

But there is a heart-stirring, affection-warming, soul-rejuvenating antidote to such a tendency. And we find this antidote in Psalm 103.

This psalm opens with a remarkable refrain: “Bless the Lord, O my soul!” And before going any further, we must pause and note the significance of these words.

Worship is rarely a spontaneous activity. Naturally lethargic, lazy, and inert people do not often burst into praise unprovoked. It usually must be aroused. And what we find in Psalm 103 is that one of the most important means of arousing worship is simply to preach to yourself. Indeed, this is precisely what we find in the first verse. The psalmist, acutely aware of his own tendency toward lethargy, is issuing an exhortation to his own soul! He is telling himself, “Wake up, you cold and lazy soul, and worship your God!”

But the exhortation doesn’t stop there. Not only is the psalmist preaching to himself, but he is preaching to himself a very clear and definite message. He says to himself in the second verse: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.” It is not enough merely to tell his soul to worship. He must go a step further and give his soul a reason to worship. And in this case, the reason for his soul to bless the Lord is found in the contemplation of his benefits.

Naturally, our next question then would be something like this: What are the benefits of God? And right on cue, the psalmist begins to expound them.

He begins with a rapid overview of the personal benefits of God (vv. 3-5): he forgives, he heals, he redeems, he crowns, he satisfies, and he renews. But then the psalmist goes on to offer a more sustained meditation, highlighting no less than six benefits in somewhat greater detail. This portion of the psalm takes the aforementioned personal benefits of God and considers them in light of God’s interaction with his people as a whole.

First, there is the benefit of righteousness and justice (vv. 6-7). These were experienced in a special way by Moses during the exodus, but they can be seen by God’s people in any era of salvation history. Since being a part of God’s people often entails suffering and oppression, it is a great benefit that our God is committed to righteousness and justice.

Second, there is the benefit of being slow to anger (vv. 8-9). This patient disposition is so crucial to God’s character, that he in fact revealed this part of himself at Sinai (Ex. 34:6). While many see God as a malevolent bully, the people of God have experienced first-hand that he is not quick to chide.

Third, there is the benefit of forgiveness (vv. 10-12). For a people heavy-laden with sins, iniquities, and transgressions, it is an unspeakable joy to consider that God does not deal with us according to our sins, nor does he repay us according to our iniquities, but instead he removes our transgressions from us as far as the east is from the west. Such is the wonderful forgiveness of God!

Fourth, there is the benefit of compassion (vv. 13-14). Being the tender father that he is, God remembers our weakness and treats us with appropriate gentleness. This is a magnificent thought, that the Creator of the universe would exercise compassion in dealing with his creatures.

Fifth, there is the benefit of everlasting love (vv. 15-18). In contrast to the brevity of human life, God’s steadfast love extends from everlasting to everlasting, enduring throughout generations. He is faithful to his covenant, and his people can rest confident that his love will never depart from those upon whom he has set it.

Sixth, there is the benefit of universal kingship (v. 19). We need not fear that we belong to a kingdom in jeopardy. God’s throne is secure, and everything is subject to his authority. Nothing can ever overthrow him or steal his people from him.

These benefits culminate in the final refrain, wherein the psalmist calls upon God’s angels, his hosts, and his works to all rise up and bless the Lord. And just as the psalm begins, so it ends: “Bless the Lord, O my soul!”

The lesson in all of this is really quite simple. If we are cold in our affections toward God, it must be because we are forgetful of his benefits. His love and compassion and forgiveness and justice have all grown old to us, and as a result our worship has grown stale.

This means that it’s time to preach. It’s time to sit down with ourselves and plead with our souls to wake up and bless God. We must overwhelm ourselves with a relentless inundation of God’s benefits, reminding our forgetful hearts of the manifold reasons to praise. We must put to flight our self-absorbed tendency toward spiritual lethargy by the power of a God-entranced vision of divine benefits. In the end, we’ll find that we simply cannot behold God as revealed in the gospel without our hearts being melted and our affections warmed. And when we cry out, “Bless the Lord, O my soul!” we’ll soon find that our souls can’t help but obey.

To say that Psalm 78 is a parenting psalm might be a bit of an interpretive stretch. Nevertheless, this psalm is laden with insight into the way in which God intends the knowledge of his greatness to be relayed from one generation to the next. It highlights the central role of fathers in the spiritual instruction of their children, thereby perpetuating the commands of God.

In the opening verses of this psalm, we see an important paradigm presented. The psalmist declares his intention to speak of the glorious deeds of God, noting that these are things which the people have received from their fathers (v. 3), and which the people are instructed to tell to their own children (v. 4).

The next few verses unpack this idea, declaring that God set his law among the people of Israel with the intention that fathers would teach it to their children, so that they might know it and teach it to their children, so that children yet unborn might set their hope in God and keep his commandments (vv. 6-7). This establishes an intergenerational network for proclaiming God’s wonders, relying upon faithful proclamation of parents from one generation to the next. It’s a monumentally important yet astonishingly simple model. “Fathers, teach your kids. Tell them of the great works of God.”

But let’s not think that the psalmist is introducing anything new here. When God chose Abraham many years earlier, he made this statement concerning him (Gen. 18:19): “For I have chosen him, that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice, so that the LORD may bring to Abraham what he has promised him.”

And when Moses recounted the law to the people of Israel in the wilderness, he gave them this command (Deut. 6:6-7): “And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.”

Both of these texts point to the reality that this model of parents (particularly fathers) instructing their children is something deeply ingrained in the fabric of the community of God. In fact, it is apparently such a vital part of covenant faithfulness that it is reinforced in the New Testament, when Paul instructs fathers to bring up their kids in the “discipline and instruction of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4). Even New Testament fathers have the responsibility to teach the coming generation.

Based on these observations, we might honestly say that God is the ultimate champion for grass-roots education. He doesn’t choose intricate systems or institutions wherein new generations might be systematically instructed in his ways. Rather, he chooses moms and dads, working alongside other moms and dads within the community of the church, to pass along the knowledge of his great works through the practice of regular instruction, proclamation, and worship.

The implication of Psalm 78 for parents today cannot be overstated. Parents must be passing along the knowledge of God to their children. To fall short in this regard is to put our kids in jeopardy of becoming a “stubborn and rebellious generation” that is not faithful to God (v.8). And I’m quite sure none of us want to be responsible for that.

We fathers need to love our families, wash our wives in the word, and patiently instruct our children in the gospel. We need to be faithful in the discipline of family worship, providing regular times for everyone in our home to gather for prayer and instruction from Scripture. We need to be examples of God’s grace, confessing our own sins and patiently forgiving the sins of others. We need to soak in the presence of God’s majesty, so that his praises will be perpetually on our lips.

But perhaps more than anything else, we need to nurture a culture of declaration within our churches and homes. We don’t necessarily need to home school our kids or even put them in Christian schools. We simply need to be faithful heralds of God’s glorious deeds. Our life together as a community of believers should be marked by the way in which we constantly declare God’s goodness to one another, lifting up his praises at every opportunity.

The main body of Psalm 78 (the last 64 verses) is simply a recital of some of God’s great works on behalf of his people. This example should compel us to follow suit. So let’s be a declaring people—a people who can’t help but tell of the glorious deeds of God that we have both seen and heard.

In the early stages of God’s redemptive activity among mankind, he calls a man named Abram, making him a two-fold promise: that he will bless him and that he will bless all the families of the earth through him. The first half of this promise begins to realize its fulfillment in the growth and prosperity of the nation of Israel. But throughout much of Old Testament history, it remains unclear how or when the second half of this promise might be fulfilled.

Yet despite this lack of clarity, there is evidence that God’s people never forgot that they had been set apart to be a conduit of blessing for the entire world. One such piece of evidence is Psalm 67. In this psalm, the traditional priestly blessing calling for the favor of God’s countenance (see Numbers 6:22-27) is taken and tied directly to God’s purposes for the nations (vv. 1-2). This introductory tone is then followed up by an appeal for all the nations and peoples to find gladness in God, praising him with both fear and joy (vv. 3-5). Then, in conclusion, the psalm reiterates its request for God’s blessing, uniting it once again with an invitation for the ends of the earth to join in worship (vv. 6-7). Taken as a whole, this psalm reinforces the Israelite confidence in a God whose plans are bigger than Israel itself.

Of particular note in this psalm are three terms, each laden with meaning: nations, peoples, and ends of the earth. These terms appear throughout the Psalter, often interchangeably, and often in similar contexts calling for praise and worship from people beyond the borders of Israel. Nearly every line of Psalm 67 contains some form of one of these terms, highlighting their importance.

So what do these words mean? And what light does their meaning shed on the text itself?

As numerous missiologists and scholars have been pointing out in recent years, these words refer to relatively small groups of individuals united by language, culture, caste, history, etc.—commonly referred to as “people groups.”  Much could be said about this, but John Piper’s summary is helpful:

What unites a ‘people’ in the way the Bible uses the term peoples is not mainly location, but culture, including things like language and customs, as well as physical features. ‘Nations’ and ‘peoples’ in the Bible don’t refer to political states like America, Spain, Brazil, China, but to ethnic or language or cultural groupings in these political states.

Given such a definition, we are often able to identify a large number of people groups within a single country. (India alone has some 2,500 people groups within its borders.) So when we read texts like Psalm 67, we need to be thinking in terms of people groups rather than political nations or states.

This understanding of these biblical terms helps us appreciate what Scripture means when it speaks about all nations or all peoples or the ends of the earth praising God. It means that God intends to receive worship from the 16,500 people groups in existence today—nearly 7,000 of which have little or no gospel presence. It means that every ethnicity and language and culture and caste is expected to render unto God his due praise. It means that the blessing of God’s redemptive activity is not to be contained by borders.

But the remarkable thing about Psalm 67 is that we later discover that its call will be ultimately answered. This reality is seen in Revelation 7, where John witnesses before the throne of the Lamb “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages.” In other words, what we see in Revelation is that all the peoples will praise God, all the nations will be glad, and all the ends of the earth will fear him. It is as certain as the very word of God.

In light of this hope, all that remains for us is to go. The missionary task is not an impossible one; our success is guaranteed. God will cause all peoples to worship him. He will redeem from every tribe, tongue, and nation. He is capable, he is willing, and he is he has clearly promised to follow through.

The church’s job is simply to go forth by the power of God’s Spirit and rouse these would-be worshippers from their present slumber, holding high the gospel of grace. Through this global ministry of reconciliation, God will allow the nations to find complete gladness in him.

It perhaps goes without saying that Psalm 51 cannot be understood apart from the narrative of 2 Samuel 11 and 12, wherein we read of David’s sin and confrontation in the incident with Bathsheba. In that passage, we see David committing adultery (11:4-5), attempting to cover up his adultery (11:5-13), arranging for the husband of his mistress to be killed (11:14-21), and then trying to cover up his murderous plot (11:22-25). This is no small hiccup or minor ethical miscalculation. This is a massive moral lapse in the life of Israel’s most important individual. It is a series of heinous sins against both God and man.

And unfortunately, in light of such severe sins, the narrative of 2 Samuel leaves us with a somewhat unsatisfactory account of David’s repentance. After being confronted by the prophetic words of Nathan, David responds with a confession that is contrite yet hardly seems to tell the whole story: “I have sinned against the Lord.” Surely sins such as David’s deserve more of a response than this.

Herein we discover some of the beauty and completeness of Scripture. What the account in 2 Samuel omits, the Psalms address. And in Psalm 51 particularly, we have the full picture of David’s repentance. This is a behind-the-scenes perspective, as it were, of David’s broken, repentant heart.

In this psalm, we find that David’s words to Nathan (“I have sinned against the Lord”) are merely the tip of the iceberg. Beneath that simple sentence is a world of emotion, confession, and remorse, framed by no less than seven distinct elements. And as we survey these seven elements, we quickly see how instructive this psalm can be in informing our own repentance and nurturing our own confession.

First, there is an appeal to God’s mercy (vv. 1-2). David’s only hope for restoration is in the steadfast love and kindness of God. Thus, we learn that if forgiveness is to be granted, it must be on account of God’s merciful character alone, not on account of any inherent good within us that might merit pardon. All true humble repentance begins with this recognition.

Second, there is a recognition of sin (v. 3). This may seem somewhat elementary, but it is not. Just like David, we have an acute tendency to overlook our own transgressions. In David’s case, it took the poignant words of Nathan to open his eyes to his sinfulness. Likewise, before we can experience forgiveness, God must break our hearts to see our shortcomings.

Third, there is a recognition of the weight of sin (v. 4). Not only does David see his sin, but he sees his sin as it truly is: an affront and rebellion against God himself. Indeed, this step is vital. Sinners who have only mildly offended a few people here and there have little need for divine mercy. But sinners who have made war against the authority of their Creator-God recognize how deep their need for reconciliation truly us.

Fourth, there is a confession of sinful nature (v. 5). David’s sin is not one blemish in an otherwise faultless life. Rather, it is a symptom of a far greater disease: a sinful nature. This confession helps us come to terms with our poverty of spirit, and it fuels our continual dependence upon God’s grace. The more we recognize our depravity, the more contrite we become.

Fifth, there is a plea for restoration and renewal (vv. 7-12). A broken and helpless sinner, David longs to receive God’s cleansing. Indeed, this is the cry of any heart that recognizes its own filth. For such a sinner, nothing is more desirable than cleanliness, purity, forgiveness, renewal, and restoration. And like David, this longing takes the form of an earnest plea to the God who alone is able to provide.

Sixth, there is an anticipation of praise (vv. 13-15). David is prepared to magnify the greatness of God by announcing his forgiveness to others. He realizes that mercy opens the lips of the forgiven sinner, such that he must sing aloud and declare God’s praise. This element of repentance connects God’s mercy in forgiveness to God’s concern for the glory of his name: he forgives so that his own praises might be sung.

Seventh, there is a call to true worship (vv. 16-19). David realizes the need for humility before God, announcing that the sacrifice which will please God is not a burnt offering but a broken, contrite heart. This reinforces the idea that the end of all true repentance is worship. Those who have been forgiven much have ample reasons to revel in the lavish mercies of their generous God.

All these elements of Psalm 51, when taken together, provide us with a healthy model for humble repentance. We would do well to soak in texts like this, allowing them to develop within us a consciousness of (to borrow a Puritan phrase) the “exceeding sinfulness of sin” and the even greater mercy of our God. These are perhaps attitudes for which self-sufficient, can-do Americans need extra grace to cultivate.

Ultimately, the contemporary message of Psalm 51 is nothing if not that it is only by growing in our awareness of our own depravity that we are compelled to run to the gospel and cling to the cross. The broken, contrite heart is a heart poised to cast itself on unmerited grace offered freely through the death of an all-sufficient Savior.

Among the many benefits of reading the Psalms, perhaps one of the most significant is the way in which we are instructed to fuse rock-solid theology with heart-stirring song. You and I are often drawn to separate these two, thinking of theology as a wooden, stuffy discipline done by boring guys surrounded by books. But in the Psalms, we encounter a theology that exudes emotion and praise and worship. It’s a theology that sings. Even more than that, it’s a theology that shouts!

Such is the theology of Psalm 33. This psalm opens on a note of doxological fervor: “Shout for joy in the Lord, O you righteous!” It then immediately proceeds to call for the exultant music of harps and lyres, complete with skillful, original songs and thunderous, thankful shouts. All of it makes for a robust picture of emotionally rich, musically excellent, deafeningly triumphant worship.

Indeed, we can’t overlook the loudness and exuberance of this opening refrain. This is not the somber, stone-faced singing of stiff professionals in choir robes. Nor is this the hushed mumbling of the self-conscious congregant who can’t sing on-key. This is the joyous outburst of the humble, God-entranced worshipper.

But as the rest of the psalm reveals, this praise is not spontaneous or unprovoked. It is a definite response to certain aspects of God’s kingship. In this respect, the word “for” at the beginning verse 4 is vitally important. If we imagine the question “Why?” at the end of verse 3, then we can think of the rest of this psalm as the answer. It establishes the reason or motivation for this shouting, singing, and playing to be carried out. And as we come to find out, the reason is rooted in the might, sovereignty and omniscience of God.

The might of God is explained in terms of his “word”. His word represents his work, which he does in faithfulness, righteousness, and justice (vv. 4-5). By his word, creation was brought into existence (vv. 6-7). And it because of his mighty word that all the earth is commanded to fear him (vv. 8-9).

The sovereignty of God is expressed in terms of his unchangeable, uncontested will. He brings the counsel of nations to nothing (v. 10). His plans endure throughout all generations (v. 11). And he chooses a people for his own heritage (v. 12). This indeed is a sovereignty unlike any other.

The omniscience of God is expressed in terms of his gaze. He looks down and sees every person and every one of his deeds (vv. 13-15). And when he looks, he sees two things. He sees those who rely on their own might being overthrown (v. 16), and those who fear God being delivered in the midst of adversity (v. 17). The gaze of God sees that which our own eyes usually miss.

So when taken as a whole, the logic of Psalm 33 could be expressed as follows. “Shout for joy in the Lord! Why? Because the Lord is a mighty, sovereign, all-knowing God.”

These facets of his character—might, sovereignty, and omniscience—are not boring or dry or academic. They are not to be resigned to dusty old theology books, nor should they be studied merely by crusty old professors. These are the very truths which fuel worship! The contemplation of them overflows into praise! Together, they comprise an understanding of God that radiates energy and emotion. This is the response which God’s glorious character produces in his people. A theology which does not shout is no theology at all.

If there is any doubt that the Bible relates to us in our darkest moments, then Psalm 10 should prove otherwise. This psalm opens with a pair of questions that are all too familiar to anyone who has struggled to find God in the midst of suffering and evil: “Why, O Lord, do you stand far away? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” These are not irreverent or profane questions; they are honest, humble, searching questions.

These questions arise out of the simple observation of the world around us. Oppression of the poor, greedy gain, blasphemous cursing, arrogant boasting—all of these things are cited as reasons which induce questions about why God is standing far off. In a world where righteousness is supposed to be blessed by God, it can often seem as though wickedness is ruling the day. The helpless get trampled by the powerful. The poor get trampled by the rich. The godless thrive in their pursuits. The arrogant live in abundant prosperity. And this naturally leads one to question, “Where is God in all of this?”

It’s important to realize that this type of question is not out of line. The fact of the matter is that our theology must be big enough to accommodate such questions, because our God is big enough to answer them. Only a small, powerless, puny god would be afraid of these inquiries. A sovereign, omnipotent, righteous King, however, is more than capable of addressing our concerns.

And this is precisely the truth upon which Psalm 10 hinges. This psalm does not brood, nor is it hopeless, nor does is resort to anger. But rather, it takes the honest questions provoked by a sinful world and brings them directly to God. “Arise, O Lord,” says the Psalmist, “O God, lift up your hand; forget not the afflicted.” This psalm is dominated by a God-ward gaze. It’s honest, raw, and a bit distressed. But it’s profoundly God-centered.

This observation may seem trite, but in fact it is quite weighty. Too often we want to do nothing more than pout and moan when we see injustice in our world. We act as though everything were spiraling out of control. But the Psalmist instructs us in this regard. We are reminded that God is a defender of the helpless, a father to the orphan, a treasure to the poor, and the righteous Judge of all the earth. As such, he is worth entreating. God’s own character instills confidence in his children, motivating us to seek his intervention.

And herein is the true value of Psalm 10. Fittingly it ends with a veritable theological treatise, expounding God’s awareness of all things (v. 14), his compassion for the downtrodden (v. 14), his eternal kingship (v. 16), his strengthening power (v. 17), and his forthcoming justice (v. 18). Without this theological framework, the plea of “Arise, O Lord” is hopeless and empty. But given the fact that God is who he is, we can say “Arise, O Lord,” expecting full well that sooner or later God will indeed arise and put an end to the inequities and injustices around us.

Our world is a messed up place. We need not pretend as though everything is rosy. It’s not. But God has not turned away. He is not overlooking the evil around us. He does see, and he will call the oppressors to account. In the meantime, his people content themselves to rest in his sovereignty, rely upon his strengthening presence, and wait patiently for his kingdom to reach its full realization.

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