Chunks: The Book of Psalms

Some scholars, in reading Psalm 55, have found it to be incoherent. At first, the psalmist seems to be complaining about being persecuted by enemies. But there’s a sudden shift halfway through the psalm: now the complaint seems to be about being betrayed by a friend. There are no easy answers here, but there is much to learn about the reality of betrayal and how we might respond. 

“How long, LORD?” It’s a common complaint in the Psalms. We’re not always told what the psalmists are suffering, nor how long they’ve had to prayerfully endure, waiting for God to do something. But at some point, the psalmists have to express their anguished impatience—and they sometimes do so in a no-holds-barred fashion. Psalm 13 is a short and excellent example of this, illustration the necessary tension between praise and lament in the psalms. 

The poet who wrote Psalm 14 (and perhaps Psalm 53 as well) says that there isn’t a single person in the world who does good—but also suggests that God is present among the righteous. Is the psalmist saying that everyone is corrupt, including God’s people? Or is he only talking about the people’s enemies? Here, we’ll explore how the apostle Paul might read it, as he quotes Psalms 14 and 53.

The psalmists clearly display negative emotions in their writing, but seldom name those emotions, leaving them open to interpretation. Often, their words seem to express anger or fear, particularly with regard to their enemies. I suspect, however, that one of the main emotions expressed in Psalms 14 and 53 is disgust—disgust at the sinful and corrupt state of humankind.

It’s one thing to complain to God about our personal troubles like persecution or illness. But it’s another to see beyond these to the sorry and broken state of humanity as a whole. Psalm 14, together with its near-twin Psalm 53, laments over the foolishness and corruption of the human race.

Throughout the Psalms, the psalmists' enemies are portrayed as godless people who lie, scheme, and use violence to get their way. But the psalmists give us a vision of a world in which God, in righteousness and justice, must have the last word. And as Psalm 7 suggests, that means that sometimes the violence of the wicked will backfire and bring violence upon themselves.

In Psalm 7, the psalmist prays for an end to violence in a way that itself sounds violent. And along the way, the psalmist describes sin in a way that suggests a perversion of the way things should be. In this episode, I’ll illustrate this with a reference to…the sci-fi horror classic, Alien.  

Earlier, we saw how Psalm 51, attributed to David after he had been confronted by the prophet Nathan, was filled with words of remorse and repentance. But other psalms, like Psalm 7, protest the poet’s innocence while calling upon God to wipe out their adversaries. It’s a dangerous prayer. Is it possible to pray it with honesty and humility?

Psalms of lament often include reasons as to why God should grant the psalmist’s prayer. Psalm 6 gives two reasons. The first one is straightforward: God should do this because of his “unfailing love.” But the second is more obscure: the psalmist asks to be saved because the dead don’t praise God. How should we understand this?

God revealed himself by name to Moses at the burning bush; in English translations of the Old Testament, that name is rendered as “the LORD.” But when we read that in the Psalms, we should remember that this is the psalmist addressing God personally by name. Psalm 6 is a deeply personal plea, and it’s striking how many times the name of God is used.

When people tell their story of suffering, they need to feel heard. In Psalm 6, the psalmist pours out an intense complaint of physical and emotional suffering. At the same time, however, the psalmist is confident that God hears and draws comfort from that fact. Do we have a similar confidence that God is attentive to our prayers?

Psalm 1 seems to promise a peace-filled life to all God’s faithful—but the trials we all experience seem to suggest that the truth is more complicated. That complexity can be found throughout the Psalter. Psalm 6, a prayer for healing from what appears to be a life-threatening condition, is a good example of the depth of suffering expressed in many psalms of lament.

Psalms 42 and 43, taken together, gives us a portrait of someone feeling neglected by God and praying earnestly to know his love and care again. The psalmist anticipates being able to celebrate God’s answer in music and song. What role do songs play in a life of faith and worship?

In Psalms 42 and 43, the psalmist is longing desperately for God’s presence. Nevertheless, the psalmist cultivates hope by choosing to remember past times of God’s faithfulness, then anticipating that God will continue to be faithful.

Psalms 42 opens with a line made famous by a contemporary worship song: “As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee.” The language of the psalm, together with its companion, Psalm 43 (which should be read with it, back to back), suggests that the psalmist is suffering from a kind of spiritual depression and feeling alienated from God.

The author of Psalm 25 has been set upon by powerful and treacherous enemies, and prays that they will not put him to shame. Yet the psalm still includes a note of hope and begins and ends in a spirit of trust. In this episode, I’ll suggest the kinds of prayers the psalm might encourage: prayers for help, but also prayers of trust.

Though shame and guilt are often intertwined or even mistaken for each other, they are not the same. Brené Brown suggests that shame can leave one feeling “trapped, powerless, and isolated.” Likewise, in Psalm 25, the psalmist prays to be saved from shame, and uses imagery that suggests being trapped, powerless, and isolated.

Psalm 25 mentions another important biblical theme: the fear of God. It’s not a concept that comes easily to Christians who have only heard about God’s love and grace—but we can see it even in the gospels. This is not the fear of abuse, but awe at the recognition of God’s holiness and power. And the psalmist teaches that God draws near to those who fear him.

Covenant is an important theme in Psalm 25; it would have been intrinsic to the psalmist’s understanding of God’s relationship to his people. Covenants are not the same as contracts; they demand a greater degree of loyalty. The psalm reminds us that throughout the Old Testament story, God remains true to his covenant promises even when his people don’t live up to their side of the covenant commitment.

Do you know the feeling of having lost your way? I suspect the psalmist did too. In the middle of Psalm 25, the psalmist prays repeatedly to be taught God’s way. This is reminiscent of Psalm 1, which teaches God’s people to see life as a choice between the way of righteousness and the way of wickedness.

Stuff happens—anything from minor inconveniences to major crises. And when bad things happen, it’s good and right to go to God in prayer. What Psalm 25 teaches is that inside that prayer should also be a prayer for wisdom, sometimes of repentance, and always with humble trust and confidence in the goodness of God.

I sometimes think of Psalm 25 as the “everything pizza” of the Psalms; it’s another acrostic poem (like Psalm 119), and it has many of the stylistic elements of other psalms. We’ll explore the structure of the psalm, which seems designed to suggest that humility is at its heart—indeed, that humility is at the heart of prayer. 

That’s a famous line from one of my favorite movies, The Princess Bride. Here, I will suggest that it’s also the way we should probably read a famous line from Psalm 46.

I have always lived in a place where earthquakes are a fact of life. Until you’ve been through one, you may not realize how much we take the stability of the ground beneath our feet for granted. But it can feel like the world has been shaken in other ways. Psalm 46 declares that we needn’t fear, because God is our security.

The opening lines of Psalm 46 inspired Martin Luther’s classic hymn, “A Mighty Fortress.” God is characterized as a place of refuge, like a stronghold built high on a rock. Have you ever had the sense of having been rescued from trouble by God? The psalm suggests that we should expect to encounter God at such times.

As he hung dying on the cross, Jesus cried out to God in anguish. It was the opening line of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” We usually take that as an outcry of abandonment and suffering, and rightly so. But is that all it is? A closer look at the psalm suggests another possibility.

Even a casual reading of Psalm 22 may make you want to say, “This is about Jesus.” Many of the lines of the psalm seem to describe a scene from the crucifixion. For that reason, Psalm 22 has been considered “prophetic,” as if the psalmist had a vision of the future and wrote it down. But is that the best way to understand the relationship between this psalm and the life and death of Jesus?

Some Old Testament texts critique what the whole system of ritual sacrifice had become: an exercise in piety that’s without true repentance. But in Psalm 51, the psalmist acknowledges that God doesn’t want sacrifices; he wants the psalmist’s broken heart.

Psalm 51 is one of the few to begin with a heading that associates it with a specific historical event; in this case, it’s David’s sin with Bathsheba. Some tellings of that story get it drastically wrong. We need to tell the story rightly to understand the depth of David’s guilt, and the corresponding depth of his repentance and the grace of God that met it.

When we were two years old, we may have gone through a period of stubborn rebellion. And even as adults, some of us may not be done rebelling. We don’t know why the author of Psalm 32 hid his sin from God. But he learned a great lesson from the love and grace he found after he confessed. The final verses read like a wisdom psalm, in which the psalmist tries to help God’s people to not make the same mistake he did.

You may know the story of Corrie ten Boom, the Dutch evangelist who miraculously survived a Nazi concentration camp. Her biography, The Hiding Place, echoes the Psalms, including Psalm 32. Throughout the collection, God is described as place of shelter and safety. The psalm is not just about confessing sin; it’s about running to God to security.

Like the author of Psalm 32 (it’s attributed to David), we probably all have our private sins, things we’ve done that nobody about knows except God. He tried to cover it up, but suffered when he did. Finally, he confessed his sin to God—and in grace and mercy, God covered it. 

Some psalms emphasize the psalmist’s confession of sin; these are known as penitential psalms. Psalm 32 is a good example of this type. The first part reads like a wisdom psalm, and is quoted by the apostle Paul. These early verses raise an important question: why do we stay silent about our sin, and what happens when we do?

In this episode, we come to the end of our examination of the Egyptian Hallel. We don’t know for certain who wrote Psalm 118 or why. But apparently, by the time of Jesus, it was understood as pointing forward to the coming Messiah. This is important to understanding why Jesus quoted the psalm to the Jerusalem leaders—and what he seems to have intended by doing so. 

Most of us probably go to church in our own cars, by ourselves or with our families. We enter the sanctuary, perhaps greet some friends, and find a seat. But what if everyone gathered in one place, then went together in a procession into the sanctuary instead? The second part of Psalm 118 pictures something like this. The passage contains words that will be familiar to readers of the gospels, and we’ll examine those more closely in the next episode.

We don’t know who wrote Psalm 118, but parts of it read as if written by a king. There is language reminiscent of battles between nations; there is language reminiscent of David. But whoever wrote the psalm, the message is clear: God is the one to trust in the midst of trouble, for he is the place of refuge for the faithful.

On the one hand, Psalm 118 is a personal prayer of gratitude. On the other hand, it is also a summons to God’s people to join in praise and thanksgiving; the psalm contains what seem to be liturgical elements. In a manner reminiscent of Psalm 115, the psalmist calls first all Israel, then the house of Aaron, then those who fear the LORD to praise him for his everlasting love. And as we’ll explore here, it may be that the psalmist means for that praise to be embodied.

In the days just before his crucifixion, Jesus was publicly debating the Pharisees in the temple courts. He asked them if they had read the verse about the stone which was rejected and then became the cornerstone. Of course they had: it was from Psalm 118, and everyone was in Jerusalem for the Passover, at which that psalm would be sung. Later, the apostles Peter and Paul would refer to Jesus as the cornerstone as well. What does this mean?

Psalm 119, which comes right after the Hallel, is the longest chapter in the Bible. Psalm 117, which comes just before the final psalm in the Hallel, is the shortest, at just two verses long. It’s not surprising that the psalmist praises God for his love and faithfulness to his people. What is a little surprising, however, is that the psalmist also calls other nations to praise him as well.

How many psalms begin with a personal declaration of love for God? Just one: Psalm 116. The psalmist was in dire distress, cried out for mercy, and was rescued by God. The psalmist therefore pours out words of gratitude—and apparently, intends to go to Jerusalem to pour out a drink offering before God as well. The psalm ends with a call to God’s people to join the psalmist in praise.

As I’ve suggested, Jesus would probably have sung all or part of the Hallel with his disciples at the Last Supper. The link between the Passover and the Hallel may be because of Psalm 116, which explicitly refers to “the cup of salvation,” probably a drink offering. The psalm itself speaks of the psalmist’s own deliverance from death and the grave. How might the disciples have heard the psalm differently when they celebrated the Passover after Jesus’ death and resurrection?

In earlier episodes, we’ve explored creation psalms the celebrate the sovereignty and majesty of God. By contrast, Psalm 115 declares the “gods” of other nations to be no gods at all. The one who made heaven and earth blesses his people. It is their vocation to trust and praise him. 

The writer of Psalm 115 insists that it’s useless to worship and put your trust in mere idols, which are completely impotent. By contrast, in what reads like a liturgy, the psalmist insists that all God’s people can and should put their trust in God. He alone is their refuge and the one whom the people should glorify and fear.

In Psalm 115, the nations have questioned Israel’s God. The psalmist responds by saying not only that God is the one who rules from heaven, but that the gods of other nations are merely idols, made by human hands. In stark contrast to God, they can do nothing. But even more than this: the psalmist warns that those who worship idols will become like what they worship.

In the Old Testament, a war or other conflict between nations was war between their gods. The second verse of Psalm 115 sets forth the question with which the psalm as a whole wrestles: “Why do the nations say, ‘Where is their God?’” Whether the question was asked in mockery or not, it implies that the God of Israel is insignificant. The psalmist’s response, however, is not belligerent. It begins by humbly reminding God’s people of who God is and how the glory belongs only to him.

The Hallel is sometimes known as the Egyptian Hallel because of Psalm 114, a short psalm which begins with a reference to the exodus from Egypt. The verses that follow briefly refer to the history that followed, including the conquest of Canaan. But the story is told in a way that draws attention to the power of God, reminding us that we are first at God’s mercy before we are recipients of it.

Psalm 113 comes to us in three parts. In the first, we’re directed to praise God forever and everywhere. In the second, we’re told to praise God for who he is. But at the end of the second part and continuing into the third, we’re also told to praise God for what he has done. Here, we’ll focus on the third part, where the psalmist quotes a song from the past and thereby honors the woman who sang it.

The gospel of Matthew tells us that when Jesus and his disciples finished their Passover meal in the Upper Room, they sang a hymn before leaving for the Mount of Olives. After what Jesus had told them, was anyone in the mood for singing? And what would they have sung? Probably Psalms 113 to 118, which are collectively known as The Egyptian Hallel. Here, we’ll begin our exploration of the Hallel with Psalm 113.

If you’ve ever been unjustly accused, you may understand the sentiment of Psalm 109. But given the teaching of Jesus, and even of Paul, is it ever appropriate for a Christian to pray this way? The psalmist’s enemies deserved to be punished—but because of Jesus, Christians have a new way of understanding God’s justice. How might the psalmist have taken this?

As an example of an imprecatory psalm, Psalm 109 shows the depth to which the psalmists will sometimes go to call for God’s justice and curse their enemies. Read another way, however, it is also a cautionary tale about the psalmist’s enemies. They have not only cursed the psalmist, but have made cursing a way of life—and it has corrupted their character to the core.