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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

As John Calvin says:

That David prophesied concerning Christ, is clearly manifest from this, that he knew his own kingdom to be merely a shadow. And in order to learn to apply to Christ whatever David, in times past, said concerning himself, we must hold this principle, which we meet with everywhere in all the prophets, that he, with his posterity, was made king, not so much for his own sake as to be a type of the Redeemer…. [T]hose things which David declares concerning himself are not violently, or even allegorically, applied to Christ, but were truly predicted concerning him. If we attentively consider the nature of the kingdom, we will perceive that it would be absurd to overlook the end or scope, and to rest in the mere shadow.

So although this psalm has immediate meaning for the Davidic kingship, we cannot be content to stop there. Without question, the psalm is too big to be simply about David or his immediate successors. It must point us to Christ.

As we study the text, the psalm seems to divide itself naturally into four progressive stages, or (what I like to call them) “moods”: the subversive plot (vv. 1-3), the sovereign laughter (4-6), the anointed reign (7-9), and the earnest exhortation (10-12). We’ll look at these each individually.

In the first three verses, we encounter a mood of subversion and rebellion. The psalm opens with the description of those who seek to set themselves in opposition to the reign of God and the king whom he has appointed. The stated desire here is to burst apart the bonds and cast off the cords of God’s authority. (Ironically, the bonds and cords of God are described as “cords of kindness” and “bands of love” in Hosea 11:4—hardly something worthy of being discarded.)

Ultimately, the New Testament reveals that this subversive rebellion against God finds its greatest fulfillment at Calvary. In Acts 4:24-28, the opening lines of Psalm 2 are quoted and applied directly to those who had a hand in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. So here from the outset, we see the second psalm pointing to Jesus with flashing neon lights.

In the second section of the psalm, we discover a mood of divine laughter. In response to the rebellion of the nations, God laughs as only a sovereign Creator can do. He does not feel threatened by those who are raging and plotting against them. He does not frantically search for some way to squelch the impending rebellion. He laughs.

Even in Acts 4, when Psalm 2 is quoted in connection to the death of Jesus, we read (v. 28) that those who killed the Messiah were simply carrying out the plan that God had predestined to take place. It’s no wonder, then, that God is able to laugh at futile humans who think they can throw off the authority of their Creator. If the subversive rebels who hung Jesus from the cross could not thwart the plans of God, then a few angry men can hardly be much of a threat.

The third section of this psalm is concerned with the king whom God has appointed. At the end of verse 6, this king is introduced, and in verses 7 through 9, his reign is described in some detail. In many respects, the reason that God is able to laugh at those who plot against him is because he is confident in the king whom he has appointed.

According to the text, there are three attributes of God’s king that we can identify: covenantal sonship, global authority, and stern judgment. In each of these cases, the markers point to Jesus Christ. In Jesus, the fullest form of divine sonship is realized (relevant passages include 2 Sam. 7:8-17; Mark 1:9-11; Acts 13:32-33; Heb. 1:5). Only Jesus has the kind of authority to have the nations as a heritage and the ends of the earth as a possession (see Phil. 2:9-11; Rev. 5:9-10). And none but Jesus has the power to judge the world with a rod of iron (see Rev. 12:5; Rev. 19:11-15).

Yet in spite of this word of judgment, the psalm ends with a note of hope and grace. In fact, the final mood of the psalm is one of exhortation. Rather than revolting against God’s authority, the rebellious kings and people are invited to serve the Lord and rejoice in his reign.  Although there are some textual questions having to do with the phrase “kiss the son”, the emphasis seems clear: the proper response to God’s King is homage, not hostility.

Appropriately, the second psalm ends in a way reminiscent of the way the first psalm begins. Whereas Psalm 1 opens with the declaration “Blessed is the one who rejects sinful influence and delights in God’s law”, Psalm 2 closes with the declaration “Blessed is the one who takes refuge in the Son.” These two statements provide us with a holistic view of biblical blessedness. While the happy (or blessed) person strives to pursue fruitfulness by means of personal spiritual discipline, he nevertheless must trust himself to the wrath-bearing refuge of the cross of Christ. The two go hand-in-hand.

In closing, therefore, I think Psalm 2 leads us to worship Jesus by the way in which it presents his authority and the way in which it displays his provision for refuge from God’s wrath. For any follower of Christ, it should give us confidence to live and minister in this world with boldness, knowing that those who oppose our Savior can do nothing to derail God’s sovereign plan. The Lord has appointed his chosen King, and his King will never be dethroned.

Yet in some ways, this is a necessary introduction to the Psalter as a whole. In the first place, it introduces many of the themes that we encounter in the psalms to follow: wisdom, righteousness, wickedness, blessedness, prosperity, torah, judgment, transience, and permanence. Psalm 1 acquaints us with these themes and prepares us for our many future encounters with them as we read through the entire book.

The second way in which this psalm provides a vital introduction is in the unequivocal tone that it sets. Without this prologue, we would be prone to jump into the emotional roller coaster of the Psalms with little or no point of reference. Exuberant joy in God, imprecatory calls for justice, bottomless pits of despair—how do we handle all these twists and turns? The answer rests in the quiet confidence of this first psalm. While the wicked may at times appear to prosper (see Ps. 73), and while the righteous may at times feel slighted by their God (see Ps. 44), we know from the outset that this is not the true state of affairs. This vital insight colors the way we read all the other psalms.

At the center of this introductory psalm is the happy man. It begins with the words, “Blessed is the man,” which could just as faithfully be rendered, “Happy is the man.” This happy man is set in stark contrast to the wicked, something that we see repeatedly in Scripture. Proverbs 10 is a prime example of this, where the righteous and the wicked are juxtaposed repeatedly by use of two-part contrasting statements. Jeremiah 17:5-8 echoes the same imagery of Psalm 1 in its explanation of the divergent fortunes of the wicked and the righteous. Even Jesus capitalizes on this contrast (see Matt. 7:21-27).

So what is it that sets this “happy man” apart from those who are wicked? The text explains it in five lines of poetry. The happy man (1) does not heed the advice of wicked men, (2) does not identify with the ways of the sinful, (3) does not dwell with those who scorn the truth, (4) takes delight in the law of God, and (5) meditates on God’s law with tireless consistency. These lines are meant to paint the picture of one who is resolved against the influence of the ungodly (see Ps. 26:4-5) and committed to the commands of God (see Ps. 112:1).

It is this disposition that ultimately accounts for his happiness and prosperity. By virtue of his close proximity to the law of God, he plugs himself into a life-giving stream that nourishes and strengthens him perpetually. This is not to say that the righteous man will never face adversity or trials or suffering. But when such adversity and trials and suffering come along, the righteous man is equipped to withstand them.

The wicked, however, are not so. Since the happy man is compared to a healthy tree, it would seem logical to expect that the Psalmist would compare the wicked to a sickly or dead tree. But they are not even granted such an honor. By comparing the wicked to wind-blown chaff, the gulf between the righteous and the wicked is only expanded. A tree planted by the water is firmly rooted in a place of prosperity; chaff is not rooted at all. It’s nothing more than agricultural waste. It cannot stand in judgment.

This psalm forces us to perform some honest self-evaluation. If we fail to hold our own lives up against the example of the happy man, then we miss the point altogether. The happy man rejects the counsel and influence of the wicked. Do we? Or do we hang the words of those who live in darkness? The happy man delights in God’s law and meditates on it continually. Do we? Or do we blow off God’s law with lazy indifference? It is easy to imagine ourselves as strong, fruitful trees, when in fact we are nothing more than chaff, one wind gust away from being scattered. Only a healthy dose of spiritual introspection can help us be sure.

But this psalm finds its greatest force when it pushes us beyond introspection and drives us to Christ. If dwelling in righteous obedience is the way to true prosperity, then there is no better place to be than beneath the shelter of the One whose righteous obedience fulfilled the law perfectly and purchased righteousness for his people once and for all (see 1 Cor. 1:30; Phil. 1:9-11; 1 Jn. 2:1). In Jesus Christ alone, we find the fullest form of blessedness, prosperity, and permanence that anyone could ever know. I think the first psalm anticipates this, and as a result we are able to read and study it with the redemptive overtones of a messianic hope.

But in an attempt to maintain this blogging endeavor, I have decided to introduce a new approach. Since the majority of my thinking and reading time is taken up with teaching preparation for the young people of Kossuth Street Baptist Church, my aim is to convert those studies into blog articles. For the immediate future, that means that I’ll be doing a series on the Psalms. Inevitably, this will produce a style of discourse that differs somewhat from what this blog is used to (more sermonic to be sure). But my hope is that it will allow me to continue writing as a means of exploring and processing truth.

For those who have stuck around, thank you for your patience. Hopefully my posting will once again be consistent and frequent enough to make it worth the effort.

Happy reading.