I am constantly shocked by the way people, including Christians, treat the Bible.  We act like God wrote it in some way other than normal communication.  I have actually heard these things come out of the mouths of believers:  “Jesus never used figurative language.”  “You won’t find irony in the Bible.”  “Sarcasm is neither present nor allowed in the scriptures.”  And because of that you will hear some of the weirdest interpretations of scripture imaginable.

We knew a man once who said that since Jesus said you should not “let your right hand know what your left hand doeth,” that you should reach into your pocket before the plate is passed and take out whatever you find without looking at it.  I wonder how he got whatever was in his pocket in there that morning without knowing what it was, or did he make sure nothing over $10 was lying on top of his dresser?

But you will also find those who deny there is any literary aspect to the scriptures at all.  Try studying the psalms in detail and see if you think that’s so.  The psalms are poetry.  Like all poets, those inspired poets used poetic elements to make them catch our fancy, speak to us more keenly than prose would, and make us think deeper thoughts than we might have otherwise.  You have fed them with the bread of tears and given them tears to drink in full measure.  Doesn’t that say more to you than, “These people are really upset”?

One place this is obvious is the fifteen Psalms of Ascents.  Psalms 120-134 are presumed to have been sung while the Jews traveled up the hill to Jerusalem to worship on the various feast days.  The word for “ascents” is the same Hebrew word translated “steps” in Ezek 40:26 and 31, as in the steps of a staircase.  One psalm in particular uses words to show these steps.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared. I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning. O Israel, hope in the LORD! For with the LORD there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption. And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities.  Psalm 130.

Imagine each of the following words, taken in order from the psalm above, sitting on the steps of a staircase from bottom to top:  depths, pleas, iniquities, wait, hope, steadfast love, plentiful redemption.  Now add this to the mix:  the word for “depths” is used several times in the scripture for the deepest places on earth, including the very bottom of the ocean.  And that implies a man’s complete inability to get himself “out of the depths.”  All through this psalm we see the literary devices of the poet, gradually pulling us out of the mire we are stuck in and up the staircase to the place of full—and even more than necessary, “plentiful”—redemption.  God didn’t barely save us, He pulled us up on top of the mountains.  Read through that psalm again now.  Can you see it?  Can feel it? 

God is the one who made us able to appreciate art of all kinds, including literary art.  He gave us the emotions that a good artist of any type can evoke.  It’s one of the things that makes you different from your dog!  God wrote the Bible.  He made you and made you able to communicate.  He speaks to us the way He knows is best for our understanding.  Who am I to say otherwise?

The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person discerns all things…1Cor 2:14-15.

Dene Ward

If you have been with me awhile, you know I have been teaching a Psalms class with lessons I compiled after a long, hard summer of study.  {You can read snippets from those lessons in the category “Psalms.”}  I am still reading books about the Psalms and the last couple have brought a new idea my way that I would like to share.

Of course, the early church, the apostolic church, as scholars often call the first century Christians, sang the Psalms.  The practice came from the Jewish heritage of the first congregations of Christians in Judea.  In fact, one of the books I read said this:  “…in the English-speaking world use of the psalms has often languished as hymns and worship songs with catchy tunes have tended to displace the psalms…This trend would have appalled the apostolic church…one may hope this modern failure to appreciate the psalms…to be a blip,” Gordon J. Wenham, The Psalms as Torah.  I find myself agreeing with Mr. Wenham.

But here is something I had not realized:  The Psalms were often prayed by the early church and that practice lasted for centuries.  Mr. Wenham devotes a whole chapter to the affect that praying the Psalms would have on us if we did it.  Try this today.  Read the following verses from various psalms out loud.  All right, wait until you are alone if you want to, but don’t forget to do it.

I said, “I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth with a muzzle, so long as the wicked are in my presence,”  Ps 39:1

I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High, Ps 9:1-2.

I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of the LORD, in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the LORD! Ps 116:18-19.

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. — Selah.  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. You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance. — Selah Ps 32:5-7.

I will ponder the way that is blameless. Oh when will you come to me? I will walk with integrity of heart within my house; I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. I hate the work of those who fall away; it shall not cling to me. ​A perverse heart shall be far from me; I will know nothing of evil. Whoever slanders his neighbor secretly I will destroy. Whoever has a haughty look and an arrogant heart I will not endure. I will look with favor on the faithful in the land, that they may dwell with me; he who walks in the way that is blameless shall minister to me. No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes, Ps 101:2-7.

That should be enough for you to get the point.  Many of the psalms are written in first person.  When you pray it, you are praying for the same things the psalmist prayed for, and allowing the psalmist’s attitude to become your own.  You cannot pray these things without it affecting how you live—unless you are a hypocrite. 

But shouldn’t we read all scripture that way?  Shouldn’t we read the epistles in such a way that we are praying to be what we are told to be, to speak as we are told to speak, to live as we are told to live?  Shouldn’t every recitation of a memory verse be a phrase we are willing to live by?  Yet how often do we quote what we have learned by rote and then continue to live as we always have, never taking to heart the words that have just left our lips?

Maybe if you start with these few verses from the Psalms today you can train yourself to pray the prayers of the saints gone by instead of the selfish carnal prayers we usually pray—for physical blessings and physical convenience and physical health--and maybe, just maybe, we can start to be the people we talk about being every time we read our Bibles.

Dene Ward

We finally got there in our Psalms class—the infamous imprecatory psalms.  And yes, if you just start reading one of them without any sort of preparation they shock you with their intensity.  Is this really the Bible?  Should a Christian have anything to do with these vicious prayers?  And so we show our ignorance—just as I did for years and years and years.

You will find all sorts of explanations for these psalms, including the assertion that they are not inspired.  Considering the fact that they are quoted by approved men in the New Testament (the apostles and even Jesus himself), I think we should take a careful step back and completely ignore that one before the lightning strikes.  Look at a few of those psalms yourself without preconceived notions and read carefully.  Psalms 35, 55, 59, 69, 79, 109, and 137 will explain themselves if you let them.

The psalmist in each case has his relationship with God in good order.  He is under attack, but not for anything evil he has done.  His cause is the Lord’s cause.  He asks God to act “for thy name’s sake.”  His own personal faith has not been affected, but he is concerned that what the weak see will turn them away from God and destroy their faith.  In short, this is not about personal vengeance.  It is about justice.  It is about God keeping His covenant.  Remember when the people stood on Mt Gerizim and recited the blessings of the covenant?  The other half of them stood on Mt Ebal and recited the curses—that’s what an imprecation is—a prayer to curse.  Curses are every bit as much a part of the covenant as blessings are.  These psalmists are asking God to keep the covenant for His sake, not theirs.  (I must make a quick thank you to Tom Hamilton for showing me this.)

And there is this obvious point:  inasmuch as I cannot become indignant at evil and injustice in the world, I cannot rejoice at the good in the world.  They are two sides of the same coin, a coin that points inevitably to my own moral compass.

Do not for a minute think imprecations are only an Old Testament concept.  Besides quoting the psalms themselves, the New Testament has a few imprecations of its own. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed.  Gal 1:8.  That is as obvious an imprecation (curse) as you can find anywhere, and then for good measure, Paul repeats it in the next verse.  Flip over to chapter 5 and read verse 12. I wish that those who unsettle you would emasculate themselves.  Whoa!  Sounds “pretty severe” as one of my students quietly understated.  Want some more?  Try 2 Tim 4:14,15.  In fact, hang around that book for a good while.  Have a look at Rev 6:9,10.  There is a place for judgment in the New Testament just as much as in the Old.  We would do well to remember that.

And please notice this:  in many cases the plea comes because of injustice, but in the New Testament nearly all of them are directed at people who are hindering the gospel.  What they are doing keeps new people from listening or undermines the faith of the babes.  This is not about personal vengeance any more than the psalms—it’s about spreading the gospel, about sharing the message of salvation to a lost world, and those who try to keep that from happening.

So let’s turn this around.  Would it be possible for someone to pray these prayers (curses) about me?  What do I do or say that will impede the spread of the gospel?  Do I complain about my brethren to my neighbors, effectively turning them away from the church?  Do I stand in the parking lot and provoke strife between brothers and sisters with my gossip?  Do I incite rebellious attitudes toward the leadership?  Do my words and actions, and the world’s knowledge of where I hang my spiritual hat, cause people to look down on and turn away from the church and their opportunities to hear the gospel?  Anything that hurts the reputation of the Lord’s body in the community or causes dissension and conflict within makes me a worthy target for an imprecatory prayer. 

The psalmist always left his request in the hands of God to do His own will, and God very often said yes to those imprecatory prayers.  Read some of those psalms listed above today.  Do you want God to even consider saying yes to those things about you?

Dene Ward

We moved my mother so she would be near us the last few years of her life.  She has accumulated a lot in 87 years.  Even though she gave away at least half of her kitchen equipment and several pieces of furniture, as the movers traipsed in and out and the little house begin to fill, we no longer said, “In the living room,” or “In the back bedroom.”  By the end we were telling them, “Just find an empty corner and put it there.”  True, the house is 100 square feet less than the one she left, but that’s only a 10 x 10 room, perhaps one very small bedroom, and there seems to be many more times that much furniture we have yet to find a place for.  It appears that she will need to give away even more.

 I found myself thinking what I might give up when we need to leave this place we have lived for 33 years now.  Relatively small as family homes go, just 1330 square feet, we still managed to raise two boys to manhood and have accumulated far more than will fit in a house the size of my mother’s new one.  So what can I do without?

 The answer is really simple.  You can do without practically every possession you have.  Just look at what we take camping.  It’s a lot to take for a vacation, but for living, it’s practically nothing and we manage just fine for well over a week. 

 But maybe the answer is even easier than that.  What will you take in the moving van when you die?  Absolutely nothing.  It will be empty from front to rear, top to bottom.  Absolute essentials for this physical life may be the smallest and plainest amounts of food, clothing, and shelter, but for your spiritual life, all those things that you spend so much time picking out, caring for, and working to pay for are completely nonessential 

 So why do we spend so much time and energy on them?  Why do we care so much where we live and how it is decorated, what we wear and who designed it, what we eat and how good it tastes?  Could it be because we have forgotten this fundamental truth:  things of this life—possessions, status, wealth, connections—none of it matters to the wise child of God. 

Do they matter to you?  If you could not give them up, they matter more than you probably want to admit.  And if losing them would turn you into an emotional wreck, your priorities need a serious overhaul.

Today, think about that moving van on the day of your death.  It doesn’t really matter what you might like to put in it.  Your soul is going somewhere, but it won’t move an inch.

Be not afraid when a man becomes rich, when the glory of his house increases. ​For when he dies he will carry nothing away; his glory will not go down after him,Ps 49:16-17.

Dene Ward

I live where the animals meditate quite often.  When we first moved here, the bobcats screamed in the woods every night.  Even after all these years of people moving closer and closer in on us, the mourning doves still cry and moan every day, morning and evening.  I hear one out there now even as I type.

 “Meditate?” you ask. 

 Exactly.

 For thus the LORD said to me, As a lion or a young lion roars over his prey…Isa 31:4.

 Like a swallow or a crane I chirp; I mourn like a dove…Isa 38:14.

 “Roars” and “mourn” are the same Hebrew word translated “meditate” in the KJV, including this one:  But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night.  Ps 1:2.

 I grew up in a time when “transcendental meditation” was popular.  Most of those who participated sat in the lotus position and hummed the syllable in the above title.  I have no idea what was in their minds at the time, but it seems a far cry from the passages above.  Yet, from what I have seen, we don’t really understand what meditation is any better than they did.

 A Bible class teacher once told us he had decided to meditate more.  He did this by memorizing a passage every week and then reciting it at various times during the day.  As he continued talking, it seemed he expected that repetition to magically change his attitudes and his heart.  As an educator, I understand that repetition is the key to learning, but simple repetition itself is as useless to your heart as repeating Hail Marys.  The New Testament calls such things “vain repetition.”  Maybe it’s time to see what the Bible says about meditating instead of what the world does.

 I looked up every occurrence of the Hebrew word found in the three passages above.  I found 24.  In the King James Version, the word is translated “meditate” 6 times, which is the most frequent translation.  But here is a really interesting case.  While in Psalm 1:2, the word speaks of the action of a righteous man, in Psalm 2:1, the action is of the wicked and is translated “plot” in the ESV (“imagine” in the KJV).  The word clearly involves some mental activity.  In Psalm 38:12 the wicked are imagining “treachery all day long.”  In fact, in the ESV that is translated “meditating” treachery.

 Seven times the word is translated “speak” or “talk” or “utter” so it does involve sound, but not that mindless hum or rote repetition so many think.  If you check out the passages, the wicked “speak” (meditate) deceit or perverseness or falsehood.  The righteous “speak” (meditate) wisdom and truth, and “talk of” (meditate) God’s praise and righteousness.  Try doing any of those things without some serious thought.

 So where does the “sound” involved in this word come from?  Sheer effort and emotion.  The young lion roaring over his prey in the Isaiah 31 passage has reached a moment of intense effort in his hunt for food.  Although the dove is not really mourning, the passage is a metaphor for God mourning over his lost people, trying to save them.  Imagine reaching out to grab someone who is about to take a serious fall, or step in front of an oncoming vehicle.  Would you do it quietly?

 No, meditating on God’s word is not a time of quiet, mindless repetition.  It is a time of intense mental effort.  “Ponder how to answer” the ESV translates it in Prov 15:28.  Run it over and over in your mind for the various possibilities, for the possible results of actions or the ideas to which those thought processes might lead.  Meditate today on meditation, for clues in the texts themselves or, as we have done, in how the word is used in other places.  Memorizing is wonderful.  Reading the word of God is a necessity for one of his children, but if all you do is speak the words either aloud or in your mind, you have done no better than a pagan on his yoga mat.

Be diligent in these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy progress may be manifest unto all.  1Tim 4:15

Dene Ward

Yes, there are more obvious things we simply read over in Psalm 23.

 When do you usually hear a reading of the twenty-third psalm?  Funerals and deathbeds, right?  We have consigned this little gem to those two occasions, probably because of the translation, “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Yet, if we had simply done a little study—very little, in fact—instead of just accepting what we always hear and assuming it the beginning and end of the matter, we would have found many other uses for this psalm.

 “The valley of the shadow of death” is actually one Hebrew word—tsalmaveth—and it can mean “deep darkness.”  It is, in fact, translated that way in the modern versions.  Yes, in Job 38:17 it seems to refer to physical death, but in Jer 2:6 it refers to the wilderness wandering, certainly a dark era for the people of God.  In Jer 13:16 it refers to the coming destruction and captivity, perhaps their darkest period.  In Job 34:22 I am not certain what it refers to, but it certainly isn’t death.  This is important because all of us experience times of deep darkness in our lives.  To know that God is with us during those times too, not just at death, is a comfort beyond any other.

 And do notice this, God is the one leading us to and through this dark place.  In fact, coming immediately after “he leads me in paths of righteousness” (literally, “right paths”), this dark place is the right place for me to be.  It may be a severe trial, but for some reason I need to be there.  It is right for me to be there, and God will lead me “through” it.  He will not put me there and leave me there.  Even something as severe as losing a child, becoming disabled, or becoming terminally ill, is one He has led me to and through, accompanying me all the way. 

 But there may well be other kinds of dark places I must go through, and will realize He has been with me when I get out on the other side.  That is, if I have remained His faithful servant, trusting in His wisdom and care.  As long as He is with me, “I will fear no evil.”  It may be that His presence involves correction or discipline (His “rod and staff”), but I know that He loves me and this is the right place for me to be, and that even in this dark place, “goodness and mercy follows me,” that is, “pursues” me.  His goodness and mercy are on the hunt for me, even in the dark places—especially in the dark places.

 Don’t miss out on the gold in this little treasure chest just because you have heard it all your life.  Use it to help you navigate those dark places, with Him as your guiding star.  Trust Him, as this particular genre of psalms is called, the Psalms of Trust, or Psalms of Confidence—in God. 

 You can make it through the dark to a light beyond, which is also implied, for you can’t have a shadow without a light shining somewhere.

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident. One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple, Psalm 27:1-4.

Dene Ward

Back in my younger years I was a jogger.  If you missed the story, slip over to the “categories,” and click on “Country Life.”  Scroll down to “One Fencepost at a Time”—even farther back than “Backwards One Fencepost at a Time”—and you can read about it with its own lesson of encouragement.

 When I finally progressed to jogging on the highway instead of the cow pasture (explained in that previous post), the first time I took nearly twice as long as I should have to jog the same distance.  Ordinarily, jogging on a firm surface is easier because your feet push off and the momentum is with you instead of all sinking down into the dirt, sand, mud, or grass of the softer surfaces.  That was not what slowed me down.  What kept distracting me were the things I had passed by in a car every day for three years and never seen before.

 In a car, you usually see the road, the signs, and possible problems—other cars, animals both domesticated and wild, pedestrians, potholes, discarded bottles, trash bags that fell off other vehicles, boards that might have nails in them, pieces of blown tires.  You must look for those things if you want to avoid an accident. 

 But that morning as I jogged slowly by I found out for the first time that a tiny creek ran through a four foot diameter culvert under the road just past the neighbor by the woods.  I discovered a path through those same woods that led to a ramshackle cabin a hundred feet off the road, nearly hidden by the ramrod straight pines.  I discovered that another neighbor had a second driveway, much smaller, that led to a shed behind the house.  Then as I approached the bridge over the New River, I found a path snaking off to its side, probably used by fishermen looking for bait, or kids swimming in the shallows.  All those things had been there the whole time I had, but it was as if I had discovered a brand new place.

 That is exactly how I felt after our ladies’ class studied Psalm 23.  I almost skipped that one—everyone knows it.  We all memorized it as children.  If there is a Bible passage in a movie, it is apt to be that one.  Why should we include that in what I hoped to be a study of brand new material for most of us?  Because it was brand new material, too.  I had gotten out of the speeding vehicle passing through it, and had jogged at a slower pace, seeing the details for the first time.  We are going to talk about what I found this time and next.

 Psalm 23 is classified as a Psalm of Trust.  I doubt that David, Ethan, Asaph, Solomon, Heman, the sons of Korah, Moses, or any other of the writers of the psalms actually made a decision to write a particular type of psalm and then followed some carefully laid out pattern.  No, the elements and patterns have been analyzed by scholars thousands of years removed from them, but it is interesting that they do follow something of a pattern.  For instance, Psalms of Trust (some call them Psalms of Confidence [in God]) tend to view God in metaphorical terms.  He is variously called a shield, a fortress, a rock, a shelter, a master [of slaves], and in this familiar psalm a shepherd.

 But here is the part I always missed—the metaphor in these psalms is apt to change abruptly, as it does here in verse 5.  Suddenly God is depicted as a host.  Some of the older commentators do not want to see this change, but please tell me, when was the last time you saw a sheep eating at a table or drinking out of a cup?  No, the shepherd feeds the sheep in verse 2: he makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters.  Sheep eat grass and drink water, and the shepherd has fed them exactly what they want and need.  Now it is the host’s turn to feed his friend in a brand new metaphor.

 And notice this, the host in verses 5 and 6 is not just an acquaintance fulfilling the obligations of hospitality in the Eastern tradition.  He is a close friend.  He takes you into his house not just for a meal but to “dwell forever.”  Indeed the Hebrew word for “house” often implies “household.”  That last verse could easily and correctly be translated “and I will remain in the family of the Lord forever.”  We’re not talking about being a pet sheep in the family, but a human member of the family, someone who eats at the table with the rest of the family, the truest sign of acceptance in that culture.

 See what you miss when you just breeze through an old familiar passage without a second thought?  You need to get out of the car and walk through it, paying attention to every detail and thinking about every nuance.  That’s how you learn new things.  And this new thing is nothing compared to the one I will show you tomorrow.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, Eph 2:19.

Dene Ward

Oh come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!  Psalm 95:1,2.

 Psalm 95 is generally thought to have been one sung during the Feast of Tabernacles.  Meribah and Massah are used in its body, a time in the wilderness when God taught His people a hard lesson.  But this psalm starts just as you would expect a festival psalm to.  Come let us sing, let us make a joyful noise. 

 Just as an interesting point, the Hebrew word translated “sing” in this passage is not a musical word.  Ranan means to emit a stridulous sound (not exactly how I would want my singing described) or to shout, and is indeed translated shout, cry out, rejoice, joy, or triumph half the time in the KJV.  And that makes that opening couplet much more parallel to the second one, “make a joyful noise to him.” 

 About that “joyful noise:” that particular Hebrew word means to mar, especially by breaking, to shout, or to split the ears.  In our words we might say, “He burst my eardrums he was so loud.”  Think about standing at a football stadium in the middle of the game, or beneath a jet engine as it revs for take-off.  That’s the noise we are talking about.  In fact, this word is translated “blow an alarm [with a trumpet]” a couple of times.  As the second verse continues, we are to do this in psalms of praise so singing is involved, but the point of these two words is not the melody but the volume, caused by unabashed joy and celebration.

 You find this often in the psalms.  Noise and clamor seemed to be a part of the Jewish worship.  Perhaps the psalmist, and God as his inspiration, had noticed.  Right in the middle of the psalm, he throws what amounts to a cold bucket of water on all the festivities. 

 Their celebration of the feast had made them forget what the wandering was all about—and it wasn’t fun and games.  An entire generation died because of their faithlessness.  Toward the end of verse 7 he interrupts their self-congratulation that God loves them and cares for them with, Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness, when your fathers put me to the test and put me to the proof.   

 Yes, God made a covenant that He would be with them and protect them, but only if they performed their half of the contract.  Their ancestors did not.  God goes on to say that He loathed that generation.  That English word, I am told, is far too mild for the Hebrew idea.  It means they disgusted Him, they nauseated Him, as in “I will spew you out of my mouth” nausea.  Because of that, they did not receive the promised rest, a rest like God’s, a Sabbath rest not because you are tired, but because have finished the task (Heb 4:1-11).

 Those people seemed to think, as the prophets testified, that all it took was loud worship to please God.  The tendency is to judge our own worship as lacking because of this, too.  We ask, “Why don’t we ever do that?” as if anything solemn and quiet is not sincere worship and certainly not acceptable to God.  It is easy to think, as they did, that volume is all that matters. 

 “If you hear his voice” the psalmist says and then makes it clear that hearing involves reverence and obedience.  In order to underscore this emphasis, the psalmist does not go back and say, “Okay, get on with the celebration now.  I just wanted to interject a warning.”  No, this is where he ends it.  He wants this to be the last thing on their minds as they finish singing this psalm:  “Therefore I swore in my wrath, they shall not enter into my rest.”

 What started out as a jubilant service ends up with the wrath of God.  I am sure their songs were not quite so ecstatic, their noise not quite so loud, for who can be carefree when he contemplates the wrath of the Almighty, the one the psalmist has already reminded us created everything and holds it in His hand? 

Take away from me the noise of your songs; for I will not hear the melody of your viols. But let justice roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream, Amos 5:23,24.

Dene Ward.

The earth is Jehovah's, and the fulness thereof; The world, and they that dwell therein. For he has founded it upon the seas, And established it upon the floods, Psalm 24:1,2.

 Many scholars believe that the twenty-fourth psalm was written by David to celebrate the arrival of the Ark of the Covenant to his new capital, Jerusalem.  When you read 1 Chronicles 13 and 15 and see the great amount of singing and worshipping going on, and then read the words to this psalm, that supposition makes good sense, and the ancient writings of the rabbis attest to it as well.

 However, even here at the beginning of the psalm David sees a danger in settling this manifestation of God’s presence in one location—the people would be tempted to think that God was stuck there, in that box, in that building, in that city, that He did not reign over the rest of the earth, much less any other people.  So he begins this psalm with the passage above to remind them that God could not be put in a literal box, and certainly not in a figurative box of one’s own expectations and understanding.  God made the whole world, and therefore rules the whole world and every person on it.

 David was right to be so concerned.  Ezekiel spent several of his opening chapters trying to get the same point across to the captives in Babylon by the canal Chebar, who believed that God was no longer with them, but still back in Jerusalem.  He is right here with you, Ezekiel told them.  That is the point of that amazing vision in chapter one—God can be anywhere at any time.

 Do you think we don’t have the same problem?  We keep trying to put God in a box called a church building or a meetinghouse or whatever your own bias leans toward calling it.  That’s why we have people who compartmentalize their religion.  They think “church” is all about what happens at the building, and the change in their behavior when they leave that building is the proof of it. 

 A man who can recite the “plan of salvation” in Bible class will cheat his customers to his own gain during the week.

 A woman who can quote proof texts verbatim on Sunday morning will turn around and gossip over the phone every other day of the week.

 A couple who appears every time the door is opened will carry on a running feud with a neighbor and treat each other as if none of the passages in the New Testament apply to anyone with the same last name. 

 What? God asked His people. "Will you act like the heathen around you six days a week “and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are delivered!’—only to go on doing all these abominations?”  Jer 7:10.  David used the middle of this psalm to remind the people who was fit to come before the presence of the LORD—only men of holiness, honesty, and integrity, not just on the Sabbath, but always. 

 Because they put God in a box called after the covenant He made with them, they thought that their behavior only counted in His presence, forgetting the lessons that both David and Solomon had tried to teach them—God cannot be confined to anything manmade, not even the most magnificent Temple ever built by men, much less a comparatively miniscule box.  As David proclaimed in finishing Psalm 24, Who is this King of glory? The LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle!...The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory! — Selah. 

 Selah--pause, and feel the impact.

Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD? And who shall stand in his holy place? ​He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false and does not swear deceitfully. He will receive blessing from the LORD and righteousness from the God of his salvation, Psa 24:3-5.

Dene Ward

Years ago I sang in the evening chorus at the university.  Chorus was required for my degree, and this was the only chorus that fit my schedule, a schedule that included teaching private piano lessons, running a home, and interning as a music teacher in a local elementary school.  Add to that, I was a preacher’s wife—just learning, as he was, but still dealing with extra obligations.

 We had a program scheduled and the director called an extra rehearsal.  That rehearsal did not fit my schedule.  I would have had to cancel a few lessons and more important, miss a Wednesday evening Bible study.  He made it clear that no misses would be excused short of death beds.  So I took a deep breath when I broached the lion in his den the next afternoon.

 My heart sank when I saw three others waiting outside his office.  Instead of calling us in one by one, he came out and stood in the hall and listened as the first one asked to be excused.  “Absolutely not!” he said sternly.  “You already miss too many rehearsals.  If you don’t show up, you will be dismissed from the chorus.”  The next one received a similar reply and the next.  They all left, crestfallen.

 Then he saw me at the back of the line.  “If you have to dismiss me, I understand,” I began, “but my husband is a preacher and we have a Bible study that night.  I just cannot miss it.” 

 I was shocked when a small smile twitched at his lips.  “You I don’t worry about,” he said quietly.  “You are always there.  You listen when I give directions.  You know your part.  You haven’t missed a single performance.  Go to your Bible study.  You still have a place in my chorus.” Talk about relief.  I drove home praising God in my heart.

 Have you read Psalm 123?  That psalm is classified as a psalm of trust, written on behalf of the entire nation of Israel.  Many psalms are full of hallelujahs, with shouts of Hosanna, with dancing and leaping and loud expressions of joy.  Not this one.  Psalm 123 is a quiet psalm.  It is presented as servants watching quietly from the corner of the room for the smallest sign from the master that he wants something. 

 Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the LORD our God, till he has mercy upon us, v 2.

 Leupold says, “There is nothing powerful, moving or sublime that finds expression here.  A quiet, submissive tone prevails throughout.  It is subdued in character.”  This is simply a servant doing his master’s will in an unobtrusive manner, calmly asking for relief but going about his duty even in the midst of trial, trusting that his prayer will be answered without his further interference.

 I like this psalm.  I have never been one who needs to demonstrate my love for God loudly, yet everyone knows it is there simply from the way I live my life.  If my chorus director could know I was a “faithful student” despite the fact that I was quiet instead of boisterous, certainly God can know the same about my spiritual life.

 God, the Father of spirits, made all kinds of personalities.  And because He made them, he accepts them—just look at the apostles and all their differences.  If He will accept that varied crew, He will accept my worship, even if it is quiet and restrained, as long as my emotion and intent are sincere and obedient.

 Nowadays it seems people are quick to judge others as less thankful, less sincere, and less loving if they sit quietly and say little aloud about their feelings.  This psalm says it isn’t so.  If I sit quietly in the corner waiting for my master’s smallest cue, I may, in fact, be a whole lot more likely to see it than someone who can’t sit still long enough to notice, or be quiet long enough to hear someone besides himself. 

 We are all different, yet God accepts all worship that is “in spirit and in truth,” the brash, the boisterous, even the analytical and the subdued.  Perhaps our judgments of one another should be more subdued as well.

But let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious,1 Pet 3:4.

Dene Ward