Psalm 27

October 19, 2008

 

All of us encounter difficulties along life’s way.  We create some of them.  Sometimes we find ourselves caught up in situations outside of our control.  King David experienced both.  When Samuel first anointed him king over all Israel, he was a shepherd and song writer, not a young man raised in the political arena.  His faith soon led him into conflict with Saul, the man God was in the process of removing from his position as king over Israel. Saul’s lack of spiritual depth and the absence of the directing of the Holy Spirit allowed him to pursue and try to murder young David.  David spent most of his first seven years as the anointed king of Israel hiding in caves and running away from Saul’s army.  Later in his life, God punished David’s sins with Bathsheba and Uriah by causing conflict in David’s own home.  Absalom’s revolt forced David out of the palace and back into hiding from another “king” who wanted to kill him. Out of the depth of his despair and the courage of his faith, David wrote Psalm 27, our Scriptural passage for the morning.   

 

1 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?

 2 When evil men advance against me
       to devour my flesh,
       when my enemies and my foes attack me,
       they will stumble and fall.

 3 Though an army besiege me,
       my heart will not fear;
       though war break out against me,
       even then will I be confident.

 

The complexity of the experiences life had brought David coupled with the way God had brought him through them taught David that God was the light that guided his footsteps, the saving hand that brought deliverance, and the security of an impenetrable stronghold.  God as light, salvation, and stronghold were a triumvirate greater than a trio of oppressors:  the “evil men” seeking to devour his flesh, the “enemies” and “foes” attacking him, and an “army” besieging him. God’s sure presence graced him with the strength of defiance. An army of warriors on a blood-lust-crazed jihad against him could not reduce his confidence in the Lord’s ability to defend David.  The Lord would cause his enemies to stumble and fall; David would stand strong.  “He remained confident of God’s protective defense.  They would stumble and fall in utter defeat, for with God one is never outnumbered”  (Holman Old Testament Commentary: Psalms 1-75; Steven J. Lawson, Holman Reference, 2003, p.151).

 

The confident assurance with which David lived his life, did not come from the hard-fought battles of life alone, it stemmed from the life of worship David experienced in the tabernacle, the house of the Lord. Listen as he shares with us a tremendous secret many of today’s self-proclaimed “believers” miss.

 

 4 One thing I ask of the LORD,
       this is what I seek:
       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 seek him in his temple.

 5 For in the day of trouble
       he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
       he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
       and set me high upon a rock.

 6 Then my head will be exalted
       above the enemies who surround me;
       at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
       I will sing and make music to the LORD.

 

The source of David’s strength that is so often overlooked today was worshipping God together with other believers in the house of the Lord.  David’s most cherished experience, what he missed most while fleeing from his enemies, was the sweetness of the Lord he experienced in corporate worship. James Montgomery Boice (An Expositional Commentary on Psalms: Vol. 1, Psalms 1-41; Baker Books, 1996, p. 240) says these verses sound “a great deal like Psalm 23, which ends with David dwelling “in the house of the Lord forever.”  But there it has to do with heaven, while here in Psalm 27, the reference is to the earthly tabernacle.  Indeed, David seems to be ransacking the Hebrew language for nouns to describe it: “the house of the Lord” (v4), “his temple” (v4), “his dwelling” (v5), “his tabernacle” (vv. 5-6).”  He goes on to say, “There is something to be experienced of God in church that it is not quite so easy to experience elsewhere.  Otherwise, why have churches?  If it is only instruction we need, we can get that as well by an audio tape or a book.  If it is only fellowship, we can find that equally well, perhaps better, in a small home gathering.  There is something to be said for the sheer physical singing of the hymns, the sitting in the pews, the actual looking to the pulpit and gazing on the pulpit Bible as it is expounded, the tasting of the sacrament, and the very atmosphere of the place set apart for the worship of God that is spiritually beneficial.  Isn’t that true?  Haven’t you found a sense of God’s presence simply by being in God’s house?  I do not mean to deny that God can (and should) be worshipped elsewhere.  But I am suggesting that the actual physical worship of God in the company of other believers can be almost sacramental” (Boice,  p.241).

 

Do we agree with what Boice has said?  Do we really? Compare his statement to the way we came to worship this morning. Did we spend last night preparing our hearts and minds to meet God in worship this morning? Did we examine ourselves for the sins of the day, of the week confessing them in our prayer closets so God could find an empty vessel to fill with His love?  Did we arrive early so we could sit in the quiet of our pew and gaze at the cross, read the Scripture ahead of time, pray through the words of the songs, and pray for the lost, the hurting, the needy, even ourselves, that God might speak to them or us throughout the hour?  Did we sit where our distractions would be limited? Did we take care of all our extraneous business so we could concentrate on God? Did we pray over our offering asking God to find it acceptable and use it to further His kingdom in an exponential way?  Did we rid our hearts of rebellion and preconditions so that we were ready to respond positively to what God had to say, if we were privileged enough to be visited by God Himself either corporately or individually?  Did we come here to worship and meet God?

 

Over the years I have watched and listened to many people who have lost the opportunity to be in God’s house on a regular basis.  I have seen some courageous efforts made just to sit in a pew and be with God. I’ve heard the bed-side testimony of the last three from our church over whose funerals I have presided—Chet Christ, Alma Gregory, and Mickey Long, now with our Lord in heaven—as they cried real tears longing to stand at the door welcoming everyone, let their fingers and their hearts make the music that lifted our hearts, and prepare and direct the communion service once again. Each of them came early, came prepared, and heard God speak.

 

But they, like so many of us, also shared the other side of that confident coin. In their hospital or nursing home beds, their hearts cried out.

 

7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
       be merciful to me and answer me.

 8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
       Your face, LORD, I will seek.

 9 Do not hide your face from me,
       do not turn your servant away in anger;
       you have been my helper.
       Do not reject me or forsake me,
       O God my Savior.

 10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
       the LORD will receive me.

 11 Teach me your way, O LORD;
       lead me in a straight path
       because of my oppressors.

 12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
       for false witnesses rise up against me,
       breathing out violence.

 

You see, no matter how sure any of us are of our faith and our relationship with our living and loving Lord, there are still those “dark nights of the soul.”  Away from God’s house and the strength of a worshipping body of believers loneliness lurks.  It hides in the shadows of our everyday existence; we sometimes think we catch it out of the corner of our eye. We feel its fingers tickle our spine as we face a moment of uncertainty. How can our faith be so strong and we so confident one moment and then, suddenly, without warning, find ourselves stumbling?  How can David write the first six verses so confidently and so quickly find himself almost begging God to even hear a simple prayer?

 

“So abrupt and complete is the change that some commentators have ascribed the two halves of the Psalm to different authors, or, if to the same author, at least to different occasions and circumstances.  Yet those who know something of the soul’s moods, of the ebb and flow of faith, and of the alternating rhythm of praise and prayer, will see no necessity for this double ascription” (Favorite Psalms, John R.W. Stott, Baker Books, 1988,  p.39).

 

At prayer meeting, in our Sunday School classes, and at our Sunday night studies, we talk around this issue.  We fight not to be labeled a “worrier.”  We talk at but don’t admit to being afraid or lonely or empty. All of us have felt, whether we were strong enough to verbalize it or not, “Do not reject me or forsake me, O God my Savior” (27:9).  How can we, in 11 words, call God “my Savior” admitting to a personal experience in which the Creator of the entire universe becomes personal and real to us and still fear Him rejecting us or forsaking us?

 

It is time we admit how deep our insecurities lay. Life has taught us that those closest to us, even our parents, can forsake us or at least deeply disappoint us.  Whatever we have—our possessions, our treasures, our health—all of it can be taken from us.  These fears war with our confident assurance that a day is coming when God will open wide his arms and welcome us home. So we seek constant reassurance: “Hear my voice when I call, O LORD; be merciful to me and answer me” (27:7).

 

13 I am still confident of this:
       I will see the goodness of the LORD
       in the land of the living.

 14 Wait for the LORD;
       be strong and take heart
       and wait for the LORD.

 

The battle remains too real. Our unfulfilled desires nag at us. It is all we can do to hang on. Standing firm seems a distant memory. Ultimately, finally, when our strength is gone, God opens our eyes and shows us where He has been and what He has been doing. More often than not, God shows Himself to us here, in this sanctuary.  That is why we put so much money into it. That is also why we will wait for the Lord, for His time.  Together, we will wait in faith.  Together, we will grow in our sanctification. Together, we will do what we are told. We are a team. We are a family.  We will love and be loved and find our completeness here in this place—in the pew or at the altar—but side by side with those with whom God has called us to serve.

 

 No, we are not talking about some day over there.  We are talking about here and now, “in the land of the living” here on earth God has promised we will see “the goodness of the Lord” and our fears will vanish!  It is a hard-fought battle we fight against the forces of Hell.  It is a battle we win by mustering all the strength we and our worshipping family can gain together, here in this place, at this time. Being in God’s house, enveloped by the loving strength of our family, our confidence returns.  Here in these pews, surrounded by the sounds, sights, and smells of God Himself, we are reassured God is real. God changes our hearts by entering them once again and together we affirm: We will not back down.  We will not give in. We will not compromise our faith.  We will love our spouses and take pleasure in them and the fruit of our love—our children, our grandchildren, our spiritual children.  We will work and sacrificially give of our time, our treasures, and our talents so our corporate family will never face rejection but always find a welcoming home.