Original Meaning
Cry to God (130:1–2)
IN THE OPENING STROPHE OF THE PSALM 130 the psalmist makes a direct appeal to Yahweh for deliverance. Although the spatial distance between the poet and God is highlighted in this portion of the psalm, the potential for such distance to be overcome is also signaled in the reference to Yahweh’s capacity to hear.
Out of the depths. The opening word of the psalm locates the psalmist and highlights his helpless estate. As Walter Brueggemann aptly explains, “this psalm is the miserable cry of a nobody from nowhere.”3
The term “depths” (mimma‘amaqqim) occurs five times in the Old Testament, each time with a negative connotation implying death and destruction.4
In Isaiah 51:10 and Ezekiel 27:34 the prophets refer to the “depths of the sea” and understand them to constitute a watery grave—an image more fully reflected in Jonah 2. While Psalm 130 does not include the full phrase (i.e., “depths of the sea”), the imagery is intended; the image of the watery grave and chaotic abyss remains.5
In Book 5 of the Psalter, in particular, Yahweh is depicted as the God of the heavens (e.g., Pss 113:5–6; 115:3; 123:1; 136:26; 144:5), and in Psalm 130 the poet seems worlds apart from this God. The spatial distance between God and the psalmist appears nearly insurmountable.
I cry to you, LORD. In verses 1b–2 the psalmist cries out to God in the hope of gaining an audience with him. These lines are structured chiastically.
A I cry to you, LORD;
B Lord [’adonay], hear my voice.
B’ Let your ears be attentive
A’ to my cry for mercy.
The cries of the psalmist bracket the two requests for Yahweh to hear the psalmist’s voice. Numerous prayers from the ancient Near East refer to a “listening god,” and a number of stele and stamps from Egypt and Mesopotamia include pictures of ears to represent the listening ear of the deity.6
Within the Psalter, selected psalms also employ the language of calling out (qara’) to God alongside a reference to the “listening ear” of the deity (e.g., Pss 102:2; 141:1). To gain the listening ear of God is predicated on the psalmist’s having gained the attention of God (Ps 130:2b) and, more importantly, God’s favor.
While the covenant name of God was used in verse 1b, the word ’adonay (“lord”) appears in verse 2a. Martin Rösel has argued that ’adonay (“lord”) introduces laments or confessions of trust when the petitioner seeks to highlight the personal relationship the psalmist has with God.7
Put differently, the use of this language invokes a particular image, namely, that of a servant approaching his or her master.8
The servant is coming, request in hand, fully understanding that the only one with the power to fulfill the request is the “lord.” The use of such language, however, is not simply to strike a deferential tone, but more importantly to signal that the petitioner is subordinate to, and in need of, the other. Another Psalm of Ascents, Psalm 123, illustrates this idea of piety:
As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a female slave look to the hand of her mistress,
So our eyes look to the LORD our God
till he shows us his mercy [
hanan
].
As in Psalm 123, the petition requested by the psalmist in Psalm 130 is mercy (hanan) from God.
Bridging Contexts
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SIN that has isolated him from God, the psalmist cries out. As suggested above, the reference to the “depths” is meant to highlight the perceived spatial distance between the praying sinner and the faithful God. The only remedy for addressing this need and closing the “gap” rests with God. Near the center of the psalm is the declaration, “But with you there is forgiveness” (v. 4a). The concept of forgiveness and its place within the cultic life of ancient Israel appears regularly in the books of Leviticus and Numbers. In those books, the root slh, “to forgive,” is paired with, kpr, “to atone,” thereby creating what Klaus Koch has deemed the kipper . . . wenislah formula, “to make atonement . . . to forgive.” 17
For example, in Leviticus 4:13–21 the narrative acknowledges the sins of the community, followed by the prescribed actions for both the people and the priests. This text, like others in Leviticus and Numbers, concludes with the phrase, “In this way the priest will make atonement [kipper] for the leader’s sin, and he will be forgiven [nislah].”18
While the first portion of this formula highlights the activity of the priests, it is only in the second half of the formula that forgiveness is announced. Worth noting, the verb salah, “to forgive,” appears in the niphal stem, which indicates a passive sense. While the priests may perform the kipper ritual, the assumption is that forgiveness remains the work of God—forgiveness is received.
Psalm 130 does not include the kipper . . . wenislah formula, but it does retain the claim that forgiveness remains the work of God because of God’s “unfailing love” (hesed) for his people. Earlier in the Psalter the psalmist described God similarly as “forgiving and good, abounding in hesed” (Ps 86:5). The psalmists are clear: Forgiveness is the work of God precisely because hesed is the character of God. Together, Psalm 130:4, 7–8 reveal something of this God. Patrick Miller explains that the “three fundamental characteristics—forgiveness, steadfast love or grace, and redemption—are set forth almost as intimate friends and companions of God. Wherever the Lord goes, they are there accompanying and going with God. To encounter this god is also to meet with grace and forgiveness and abundant redemption.”19
For the psalmist, this is the face of hope amid the darkness of the depths.
Other texts from the postexilic period reinforced this claim concerning the very character of God (e.g., 1 Kgs 8:30–53; Jer 31:31–33). The “depths” of the exile no doubt served as a perpetual reminder of the gravity of sin. That singular event bolstered their conviction that, should Yahweh keep a record of sins, surely no one would endure (Ps 130:3). The only explanation for the end of the exile is that Israel’s God is one characterized by forgiveness, prompted by hesed. This conviction led to the confession in Nehemiah 9:17 that Israel’s God is ’eloah selihot, the “God of forgiveness.”
In addition to its signficance in the Old Testament, the theme of divine forgiveness plays a central role in the confession of the early church as the various New Testament writers employed different metaphors and images to capture the richness of this concept.20
The God identified by forgiveness, steadfast love, and redemption in Psalm 130 is the same God in view in these latter texts. In the Gospel narratives, for example, Jesus often heals, but the healing event is coupled with the announcement concerning the forgiveness of sins. Not surprisingly, the announcement of the forgiveness of sins by Jesus leaves the religious officials apoplectic and declaring, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Mark 2:7). Ironically, the declaration issued by the religious officials represents a fundamental tenet in the Christian faith—that indeed it is God alone who can forgive sin. In extending this claim, Paul repeatedly asserted that it was God through Christ who has forgiven sin. In his letter to the church at Rome, Paul reminded the community that “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). And further, Paul indicates that “while we were God’s enemies,” while we were in the depths, far removed from God, “we were reconciled to him.” The work of reconciliation, forgiveness, and restoration was indeed the work of God, but it was a work predicated on the faithful love of God.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 130 CONFRONTS each of us with the reality of human sinfulness—our own sinfulness. Perhaps it would be easier to assume the “depths” mentioned in verse 1 refer only to difficult times, challenging circumstances, or unwanted threats, but the psalmist invites us to plumb the depths of our human condition. To refer to that condition, to our own sinfulness, is rarely if ever in vogue today; such thoughts are assumed to be from another generation when tent revivals and pulpit pounding held sway. Regrettably, we deprive ourselves of the richness of faith when such dismissive and even infantile attitudes guide our thoughts. Throughout the history of the church, faithful saints before us read Psalm 130, and they understood well the power of its words. Luther called it one of the “Pauline Psalms” because it articulated so well Paul’s thought on the reality of sin and the grace that remedied it.21
John Wesley had just heard an anthem on Psalm 130 being sung at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the day he made his way to the room at Aldersgate where he claims his heart was “strangely warmed” as he thought about the grace of God in the face of his own sin.22
Countless other nameless saints have poured over Psalm 130 in confronting their own sinfulness, confessing their own depths, and waiting on this faithful God to do his good work.
As we reflect on our own sinfulness we might be inclined to turn away from God. We know our own brokenness and failures—they are both profoundly disruptive and thoroughly destructive. The psalmist would say that such turning away is akin to living in the depths. And yet in those disruptive and destructive moments, when the darkness of the depths threatens to have the last word, the psalmist turns to God—directly to God—and cries out. And we are invited to do the same.
The point of Psalm 130 is not to remind people of their sinfulness—my hunch is that most if not all of us are keenly aware of our brokenness and sinfulness. The point of Psalm 130, rather, is to remind people that the darkness of the depths is not life as God intended it—that such darkness is not the end of our story (v. 3). In his book Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis, Greg Jones acknowledges the reality of sin but then reminds us of a greater reality still:
To be forgiven by God, to be initiated in the life of God’s kingdom, is to be transferred from one narrative—the narrative of death-dealing sin—to the narrative of God’s reconciliation in Christ. And in the latter narrative, we are forgiven of our sin so that we can learn to become holy through lifelong repentance and forgiveness.23
One narrative exchanged for another—darkness for light, death for life. Despite the darkness, the psalmist leans forward toward the God he knows—the one who chooses to love us, redeem us, and forgive us . . . the one who invites us all into a new narrative, a narrative marked by grace.
Original Meaning
A Statement of Confidence (130:3–4)
IN THE OPENING STROPHE OF PSALM 130, the psalmist locates himself in the “depths” but neglects to acknowledge the cause. In the second strophe the psalmist introduces the concept of sin but does not make explicit the connection between his plight (v. 1) and the problem of human sinfulness. Although the connection is not overt, the proximity between the circumstance and the condition (i.e., the depths and sinfulness) in these verses presumes a causal relationship between the two. To remedy his plight, the psalmist confidently asserts that there is forgiveness with Israel’s God.
If you, LORD, kept a record of sins. Verse 3 opens with a rhetorical question: “If you, LORD, kept a record of sins, Lord [’adonay] who could stand?” Once again the psalmist invokes both names of God—the covenantal name (Yahweh) followed by ’adonay, meaning “Lord” or “Master.” As suggested above, the use of both names implies a relationship between the psalmist and God, but in this strophe the psalmist emphasizes that the relationship may be jeapordized by sin. In referring to human sinfulness, the psalmist uses the term ‘awon, a word with a root meaning of to “bend,” “curve,” “turn aside,” or “twist.”9
In reference to sin, the term carries with it a complex meaning, as it encompasses not just the action deemed “sin” but also the “damage it creates and the consequences it threatens.”10
Consequently, the term is rendered “inquity” or “sin” in some contexts (Ps 130:3; Prov 5:22), but elsewhere it appears to refer more nearly to the guilt associated with sin (Zech 3:4), and still elsewhere, even the punishment resulting from iniquity (Ezek 44:10). James Mays captures this complex image poetically by describing ‘awon as “the flood of wrong and its consequences that sweeps life along and from which there is no escape apart from a liberating, rescuing redemption.”11
In Psalm 130:3 the term ‘awon appears in the plural form, which frequently can function as a summary word for all the sins committed against God.12
The psalmist is not confessing to a sin but rather to all sins that leave him broken, estranged from God, and in need of forgiveness.
The psalmist contends that if God did track the sins of humans, then no one would be able to “stand” (‘amad). The term ‘amad can mean literally “to stand,” or more figuratively “to stand in the presence of” a king or deity (Ps 76:7). In the latter instance, one would expect the prepositional phrase lepane, literally “before the face of,” but the absence of the prepositional phrase from Psalm 130 suggests an alternative interpretation. In addition to the more literal meaning of “to stand,” ‘amad can also mean “to endure” (e.g., Pss 102:26; 111:3, 10; 112:3, 9; 119:90, 91). If Yahweh “kept a record of sins,” then no one would survive the judgment of God, no one would endure.
But with you there is forgiveness. The nominal form of forgiveness, selihah, appears only here and in Daniel 9:9 and Nehemiah 9:17—the verbal form occurs forty-six times. In every instance, however, Yahweh is named as the subject—Yahweh is either the subject who forgives, or, as suggested in Psalm 130, forgiveness is named as part of God’s identity (i.e., forgiveness is “with you”). In making this statement the psalmist acknowledges that Yahweh and Yahweh alone has the authority to forgive sins, but even more, he has the disposition to do so.
As suggested above, sin damages the relationship between God and humanity. Were it not for God’s disposition to forgive, humanity would have no hope of enduring (v. 3a). But Israel’s history has demonstrated otherwise. From the time in the wilderness to the Hebrews’ settlement in the land, and even during the time of the monarchy, Israel’s history was riddled with sin. Despite their proclivity to sin, however, they endured.
The psalmist confesses in verse 4b that the forgiveness of sins has as its proper end fear or “reverence.” The NIV attempts to render verse 4b more fully, “so that we can, with reverence, serve you,” but in doing so strips some of the poignancy of the text. The Hebrew reads simply, “so that you may be feared.” Forgiveness does not enable us to serve God better, as suggested by the NIV’s rendering; instead, forgiveness enables us to see God better. The relationship once broken by sin is restored, not by us but by the God with whom there is forgiveness. Consequently, the psalmist asserts that forgiveness leads to fear and a renewed faith, which then results in faithful service.
Bridging Contexts
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SIN that has isolated him from God, the psalmist cries out. As suggested above, the reference to the “depths” is meant to highlight the perceived spatial distance between the praying sinner and the faithful God. The only remedy for addressing this need and closing the “gap” rests with God. Near the center of the psalm is the declaration, “But with you there is forgiveness” (v. 4a). The concept of forgiveness and its place within the cultic life of ancient Israel appears regularly in the books of Leviticus and Numbers. In those books, the root slh, “to forgive,” is paired with, kpr, “to atone,” thereby creating what Klaus Koch has deemed the kipper . . . wenislah formula, “to make atonement . . . to forgive.” 17
For example, in Leviticus 4:13–21 the narrative acknowledges the sins of the community, followed by the prescribed actions for both the people and the priests. This text, like others in Leviticus and Numbers, concludes with the phrase, “In this way the priest will make atonement [kipper] for the leader’s sin, and he will be forgiven [nislah].”18
While the first portion of this formula highlights the activity of the priests, it is only in the second half of the formula that forgiveness is announced. Worth noting, the verb salah, “to forgive,” appears in the niphal stem, which indicates a passive sense. While the priests may perform the kipper ritual, the assumption is that forgiveness remains the work of God—forgiveness is received.
Psalm 130 does not include the kipper . . . wenislah formula, but it does retain the claim that forgiveness remains the work of God because of God’s “unfailing love” (hesed) for his people. Earlier in the Psalter the psalmist described God similarly as “forgiving and good, abounding in hesed” (Ps 86:5). The psalmists are clear: Forgiveness is the work of God precisely because hesed is the character of God. Together, Psalm 130:4, 7–8 reveal something of this God. Patrick Miller explains that the “three fundamental characteristics—forgiveness, steadfast love or grace, and redemption—are set forth almost as intimate friends and companions of God. Wherever the Lord goes, they are there accompanying and going with God. To encounter this god is also to meet with grace and forgiveness and abundant redemption.”19
For the psalmist, this is the face of hope amid the darkness of the depths.
Other texts from the postexilic period reinforced this claim concerning the very character of God (e.g., 1 Kgs 8:30–53; Jer 31:31–33). The “depths” of the exile no doubt served as a perpetual reminder of the gravity of sin. That singular event bolstered their conviction that, should Yahweh keep a record of sins, surely no one would endure (Ps 130:3). The only explanation for the end of the exile is that Israel’s God is one characterized by forgiveness, prompted by hesed. This conviction led to the confession in Nehemiah 9:17 that Israel’s God is ’eloah selihot, the “God of forgiveness.”
In addition to its signficance in the Old Testament, the theme of divine forgiveness plays a central role in the confession of the early church as the various New Testament writers employed different metaphors and images to capture the richness of this concept.20
The God identified by forgiveness, steadfast love, and redemption in Psalm 130 is the same God in view in these latter texts. In the Gospel narratives, for example, Jesus often heals, but the healing event is coupled with the announcement concerning the forgiveness of sins. Not surprisingly, the announcement of the forgiveness of sins by Jesus leaves the religious officials apoplectic and declaring, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Mark 2:7). Ironically, the declaration issued by the religious officials represents a fundamental tenet in the Christian faith—that indeed it is God alone who can forgive sin. In extending this claim, Paul repeatedly asserted that it was God through Christ who has forgiven sin. In his letter to the church at Rome, Paul reminded the community that “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). And further, Paul indicates that “while we were God’s enemies,” while we were in the depths, far removed from God, “we were reconciled to him.” The work of reconciliation, forgiveness, and restoration was indeed the work of God, but it was a work predicated on the faithful love of God.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 130 CONFRONTS each of us with the reality of human sinfulness—our own sinfulness. Perhaps it would be easier to assume the “depths” mentioned in verse 1 refer only to difficult times, challenging circumstances, or unwanted threats, but the psalmist invites us to plumb the depths of our human condition. To refer to that condition, to our own sinfulness, is rarely if ever in vogue today; such thoughts are assumed to be from another generation when tent revivals and pulpit pounding held sway. Regrettably, we deprive ourselves of the richness of faith when such dismissive and even infantile attitudes guide our thoughts. Throughout the history of the church, faithful saints before us read Psalm 130, and they understood well the power of its words. Luther called it one of the “Pauline Psalms” because it articulated so well Paul’s thought on the reality of sin and the grace that remedied it.21
John Wesley had just heard an anthem on Psalm 130 being sung at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the day he made his way to the room at Aldersgate where he claims his heart was “strangely warmed” as he thought about the grace of God in the face of his own sin.22
Countless other nameless saints have poured over Psalm 130 in confronting their own sinfulness, confessing their own depths, and waiting on this faithful God to do his good work.
As we reflect on our own sinfulness we might be inclined to turn away from God. We know our own brokenness and failures—they are both profoundly disruptive and thoroughly destructive. The psalmist would say that such turning away is akin to living in the depths. And yet in those disruptive and destructive moments, when the darkness of the depths threatens to have the last word, the psalmist turns to God—directly to God—and cries out. And we are invited to do the same.
The point of Psalm 130 is not to remind people of their sinfulness—my hunch is that most if not all of us are keenly aware of our brokenness and sinfulness. The point of Psalm 130, rather, is to remind people that the darkness of the depths is not life as God intended it—that such darkness is not the end of our story (v. 3). In his book Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis, Greg Jones acknowledges the reality of sin but then reminds us of a greater reality still:
To be forgiven by God, to be initiated in the life of God’s kingdom, is to be transferred from one narrative—the narrative of death-dealing sin—to the narrative of God’s reconciliation in Christ. And in the latter narrative, we are forgiven of our sin so that we can learn to become holy through lifelong repentance and forgiveness.23
One narrative exchanged for another—darkness for light, death for life. Despite the darkness, the psalmist leans forward toward the God he knows—the one who chooses to love us, redeem us, and forgive us . . . the one who invites us all into a new narrative, a narrative marked by grace.
Original Meaning
Waiting for the Lord (130:5–6)
IN STROPHE 2 THE PSALMIST EXPLAINED the reality of human sinfulness and the necessity of forgiveness in order to live a life fully restored and in relation to God. In the third strophe the poet highlights his current posture in the light of the previous claim—he waits, but not in vain. In verse 5 he uses the words qawah and yahal three times. Both words mean “waiting,” but waiting with a sense of hopeful expectation. In the book of Psalms, such anticipatory waiting is reinforced because God is nearly always the object of the verb. Because God is the object of waiting, such a posture is never in vain. In Psalm 130:5a the psalmist waits for God, and in verse 5b the poet waits for “his word,” presumably an oracle of salvation.13
In the opening line of verse 6a the text reads literally, “my soul [nepesh] for the Lord [’adonay].” The verb is absent from the verse due to ellipsis, but it is clearly understood nevertheless (i.e., “my soul waits for the Lord”); the absense of the verb may in fact heighten the force of the claim.
The final two lines in verse 6 prove illustrative of this posture of waiting. The psalmist waits for the Lord “more than watchmen wait for the morning.” As similarly in verse 6a, the verb “wait” does not actually appear in the Hebrew, but it is implied based on its threefold use in the previous verses. In ancient cities, guards were stationed on the city walls to keep watch over the city during the night. Just as the guards await the morning, so too does the psalmist wait on God.
The image of the morning in verse 6b–c may be set in contrast to the mention of the “depths” in verse 1, thus creating a contrast between darkness and light, the absence of God and the presence of God. Elsewhere in the Psalter the morning symbolizes the time of God’s intervention in the lives of his people. In Psalm 30:5 the psalmist explains that “weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Similarly, in Psalm 143:8 the psalmist says, “Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love.” In Psalm 5:3 the connection between the morning and waiting is made explicit: “in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.”14
Similarly, the psalmist waits expectantly for the forgiving God, assured that his waiting is not in vain.
Bridging Contexts
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SIN that has isolated him from God, the psalmist cries out. As suggested above, the reference to the “depths” is meant to highlight the perceived spatial distance between the praying sinner and the faithful God. The only remedy for addressing this need and closing the “gap” rests with God. Near the center of the psalm is the declaration, “But with you there is forgiveness” (v. 4a). The concept of forgiveness and its place within the cultic life of ancient Israel appears regularly in the books of Leviticus and Numbers. In those books, the root slh, “to forgive,” is paired with, kpr, “to atone,” thereby creating what Klaus Koch has deemed the kipper . . . wenislah formula, “to make atonement . . . to forgive.” 17
For example, in Leviticus 4:13–21 the narrative acknowledges the sins of the community, followed by the prescribed actions for both the people and the priests. This text, like others in Leviticus and Numbers, concludes with the phrase, “In this way the priest will make atonement [kipper] for the leader’s sin, and he will be forgiven [nislah].”18
While the first portion of this formula highlights the activity of the priests, it is only in the second half of the formula that forgiveness is announced. Worth noting, the verb salah, “to forgive,” appears in the niphal stem, which indicates a passive sense. While the priests may perform the kipper ritual, the assumption is that forgiveness remains the work of God—forgiveness is received.
Psalm 130 does not include the kipper . . . wenislah formula, but it does retain the claim that forgiveness remains the work of God because of God’s “unfailing love” (hesed) for his people. Earlier in the Psalter the psalmist described God similarly as “forgiving and good, abounding in hesed” (Ps 86:5). The psalmists are clear: Forgiveness is the work of God precisely because hesed is the character of God. Together, Psalm 130:4, 7–8 reveal something of this God. Patrick Miller explains that the “three fundamental characteristics—forgiveness, steadfast love or grace, and redemption—are set forth almost as intimate friends and companions of God. Wherever the Lord goes, they are there accompanying and going with God. To encounter this god is also to meet with grace and forgiveness and abundant redemption.”19
For the psalmist, this is the face of hope amid the darkness of the depths.
Other texts from the postexilic period reinforced this claim concerning the very character of God (e.g., 1 Kgs 8:30–53; Jer 31:31–33). The “depths” of the exile no doubt served as a perpetual reminder of the gravity of sin. That singular event bolstered their conviction that, should Yahweh keep a record of sins, surely no one would endure (Ps 130:3). The only explanation for the end of the exile is that Israel’s God is one characterized by forgiveness, prompted by hesed. This conviction led to the confession in Nehemiah 9:17 that Israel’s God is ’eloah selihot, the “God of forgiveness.”
In addition to its signficance in the Old Testament, the theme of divine forgiveness plays a central role in the confession of the early church as the various New Testament writers employed different metaphors and images to capture the richness of this concept.20
The God identified by forgiveness, steadfast love, and redemption in Psalm 130 is the same God in view in these latter texts. In the Gospel narratives, for example, Jesus often heals, but the healing event is coupled with the announcement concerning the forgiveness of sins. Not surprisingly, the announcement of the forgiveness of sins by Jesus leaves the religious officials apoplectic and declaring, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Mark 2:7). Ironically, the declaration issued by the religious officials represents a fundamental tenet in the Christian faith—that indeed it is God alone who can forgive sin. In extending this claim, Paul repeatedly asserted that it was God through Christ who has forgiven sin. In his letter to the church at Rome, Paul reminded the community that “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). And further, Paul indicates that “while we were God’s enemies,” while we were in the depths, far removed from God, “we were reconciled to him.” The work of reconciliation, forgiveness, and restoration was indeed the work of God, but it was a work predicated on the faithful love of God.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 130 CONFRONTS each of us with the reality of human sinfulness—our own sinfulness. Perhaps it would be easier to assume the “depths” mentioned in verse 1 refer only to difficult times, challenging circumstances, or unwanted threats, but the psalmist invites us to plumb the depths of our human condition. To refer to that condition, to our own sinfulness, is rarely if ever in vogue today; such thoughts are assumed to be from another generation when tent revivals and pulpit pounding held sway. Regrettably, we deprive ourselves of the richness of faith when such dismissive and even infantile attitudes guide our thoughts. Throughout the history of the church, faithful saints before us read Psalm 130, and they understood well the power of its words. Luther called it one of the “Pauline Psalms” because it articulated so well Paul’s thought on the reality of sin and the grace that remedied it.21
John Wesley had just heard an anthem on Psalm 130 being sung at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the day he made his way to the room at Aldersgate where he claims his heart was “strangely warmed” as he thought about the grace of God in the face of his own sin.22
Countless other nameless saints have poured over Psalm 130 in confronting their own sinfulness, confessing their own depths, and waiting on this faithful God to do his good work.
As we reflect on our own sinfulness we might be inclined to turn away from God. We know our own brokenness and failures—they are both profoundly disruptive and thoroughly destructive. The psalmist would say that such turning away is akin to living in the depths. And yet in those disruptive and destructive moments, when the darkness of the depths threatens to have the last word, the psalmist turns to God—directly to God—and cries out. And we are invited to do the same.
The point of Psalm 130 is not to remind people of their sinfulness—my hunch is that most if not all of us are keenly aware of our brokenness and sinfulness. The point of Psalm 130, rather, is to remind people that the darkness of the depths is not life as God intended it—that such darkness is not the end of our story (v. 3). In his book Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis, Greg Jones acknowledges the reality of sin but then reminds us of a greater reality still:
To be forgiven by God, to be initiated in the life of God’s kingdom, is to be transferred from one narrative—the narrative of death-dealing sin—to the narrative of God’s reconciliation in Christ. And in the latter narrative, we are forgiven of our sin so that we can learn to become holy through lifelong repentance and forgiveness.23
One narrative exchanged for another—darkness for light, death for life. Despite the darkness, the psalmist leans forward toward the God he knows—the one who chooses to love us, redeem us, and forgive us . . . the one who invites us all into a new narrative, a narrative marked by grace.
Original Meaning
The Redemption of Israel (130:7–8)
THE FIRST-PERSON LANGUAGE that has dominated the first three strophes is absent from the final one. That “I” has been replaced by “Israel” (vv. 7a, 8a) could suggest that the final strophe was spoken by a priest or other worship leader and addressed to the people. By necessity, this understanding would imply that the “I” of the first three strophes should be understood collectively as the nation. While this interpretive move is possible, given that “I” does represent the community in other psalms, an alternative reading seems preferable. The final two verses are likely an exhortation to the community (i.e., “Israel”) by the same person who spoke in verses 1–6. The “I” in verses 1–6 turns and exhorts the community to adopt the same posture of waiting that he himself has adopted (vv. 5–6). This connection to the previous strophe is made explicit with the opening word in the fourth strophe, yahal, “to wait” or “to hope,” the same word used in verse 5b. Just as the psalmist waits and hopes, so too should the community.
With the LORD is unfailing love. Following the imperative to “put your hope in the LORD” (v. 7a), the psalmist introduces a causal clause (ki, “for”) to explain why Israel should hope in the Lord. This causal clause introduces two distinct claims as descriptors of the character of God. In verse 7b the psalmist refers to the “unfailing love” (hesed) of Yahweh. As suggested above, the repeated use of ’adonay (“lord”) in reference to Yahweh serves as reminder of the master-servant relationship that exists between God and the psalmist. The use of hesed in verse 7b reiterates this claim, thus even intensifying it. Although the term can rightly be rendered “unfailing love” (NIV), a more contextually appropriate rendering might be “loyalty” or “solidarity,” or perhaps even “faithfulness.” The multivalent sense of “love” in English distorts the particular meaning intended here. The sense is captured best in Deuteronomy 7:9: “Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love [hesed] to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.” In Deuteronomy 7 the use of hesed suggests covenantal loyalty and unflinching faithfulness on the part of Yahweh. In Psalm 130 the psalmist contends that it is for this reason, the covenantal loyalty of Yahweh to his people, that the people can adopt a posture of waiting and hoping.
With him is full redemption. In the second half of the causal clause the psalmist refers to “full redemption” (pedut). The noun in verse 7c, pedut (“full redemption”), and the verb found in verse 8a, padah (“to redeem”) derive from the same root and invoke a particular idea. The verbal form means “to buy the freedom” of something or “to pay an atonement price” for something.15
Frequently this langauge is applied to Israel’s liberation out of Egypt.16
In other texts the word more generally means to buy someone out of slavery (e.g., Exod 21:8). In both instances the one with the power must act in behalf of the other to bring about deliverance.
Like the reference to God’s loyal love, the references to God’s capacity for redemptive work provide Israel with the necessary rationale for hoping in the Lord. The psalmist and Israel alike apparently find themselves in a similar plight. In the second strophe the psalmist implies that “iniquities” or “sins” (‘awon) are what has brought the psalmist down to the depths (v. 1). In verse 4 he contends that with Yahweh there is forgiveness. This claim of forgiveness is expanded in verse 8 and extended to the full community of Israel. According to the psalmist, God does more than forgive; his loyalty is so great that he is willing to “buy the freedom” of his people “from all their sins.” There is hope for those who wait.
Bridging Contexts
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SIN that has isolated him from God, the psalmist cries out. As suggested above, the reference to the “depths” is meant to highlight the perceived spatial distance between the praying sinner and the faithful God. The only remedy for addressing this need and closing the “gap” rests with God. Near the center of the psalm is the declaration, “But with you there is forgiveness” (v. 4a). The concept of forgiveness and its place within the cultic life of ancient Israel appears regularly in the books of Leviticus and Numbers. In those books, the root slh, “to forgive,” is paired with, kpr, “to atone,” thereby creating what Klaus Koch has deemed the kipper . . . wenislah formula, “to make atonement . . . to forgive.” 17
For example, in Leviticus 4:13–21 the narrative acknowledges the sins of the community, followed by the prescribed actions for both the people and the priests. This text, like others in Leviticus and Numbers, concludes with the phrase, “In this way the priest will make atonement [kipper] for the leader’s sin, and he will be forgiven [nislah].”18
While the first portion of this formula highlights the activity of the priests, it is only in the second half of the formula that forgiveness is announced. Worth noting, the verb salah, “to forgive,” appears in the niphal stem, which indicates a passive sense. While the priests may perform the kipper ritual, the assumption is that forgiveness remains the work of God—forgiveness is received.
Psalm 130 does not include the kipper . . . wenislah formula, but it does retain the claim that forgiveness remains the work of God because of God’s “unfailing love” (hesed) for his people. Earlier in the Psalter the psalmist described God similarly as “forgiving and good, abounding in hesed” (Ps 86:5). The psalmists are clear: Forgiveness is the work of God precisely because hesed is the character of God. Together, Psalm 130:4, 7–8 reveal something of this God. Patrick Miller explains that the “three fundamental characteristics—forgiveness, steadfast love or grace, and redemption—are set forth almost as intimate friends and companions of God. Wherever the Lord goes, they are there accompanying and going with God. To encounter this god is also to meet with grace and forgiveness and abundant redemption.”19
For the psalmist, this is the face of hope amid the darkness of the depths.
Other texts from the postexilic period reinforced this claim concerning the very character of God (e.g., 1 Kgs 8:30–53; Jer 31:31–33). The “depths” of the exile no doubt served as a perpetual reminder of the gravity of sin. That singular event bolstered their conviction that, should Yahweh keep a record of sins, surely no one would endure (Ps 130:3). The only explanation for the end of the exile is that Israel’s God is one characterized by forgiveness, prompted by hesed. This conviction led to the confession in Nehemiah 9:17 that Israel’s God is ’eloah selihot, the “God of forgiveness.”
In addition to its signficance in the Old Testament, the theme of divine forgiveness plays a central role in the confession of the early church as the various New Testament writers employed different metaphors and images to capture the richness of this concept.20
The God identified by forgiveness, steadfast love, and redemption in Psalm 130 is the same God in view in these latter texts. In the Gospel narratives, for example, Jesus often heals, but the healing event is coupled with the announcement concerning the forgiveness of sins. Not surprisingly, the announcement of the forgiveness of sins by Jesus leaves the religious officials apoplectic and declaring, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Mark 2:7). Ironically, the declaration issued by the religious officials represents a fundamental tenet in the Christian faith—that indeed it is God alone who can forgive sin. In extending this claim, Paul repeatedly asserted that it was God through Christ who has forgiven sin. In his letter to the church at Rome, Paul reminded the community that “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). And further, Paul indicates that “while we were God’s enemies,” while we were in the depths, far removed from God, “we were reconciled to him.” The work of reconciliation, forgiveness, and restoration was indeed the work of God, but it was a work predicated on the faithful love of God.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 130 CONFRONTS each of us with the reality of human sinfulness—our own sinfulness. Perhaps it would be easier to assume the “depths” mentioned in verse 1 refer only to difficult times, challenging circumstances, or unwanted threats, but the psalmist invites us to plumb the depths of our human condition. To refer to that condition, to our own sinfulness, is rarely if ever in vogue today; such thoughts are assumed to be from another generation when tent revivals and pulpit pounding held sway. Regrettably, we deprive ourselves of the richness of faith when such dismissive and even infantile attitudes guide our thoughts. Throughout the history of the church, faithful saints before us read Psalm 130, and they understood well the power of its words. Luther called it one of the “Pauline Psalms” because it articulated so well Paul’s thought on the reality of sin and the grace that remedied it.21
John Wesley had just heard an anthem on Psalm 130 being sung at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the day he made his way to the room at Aldersgate where he claims his heart was “strangely warmed” as he thought about the grace of God in the face of his own sin.22
Countless other nameless saints have poured over Psalm 130 in confronting their own sinfulness, confessing their own depths, and waiting on this faithful God to do his good work.
As we reflect on our own sinfulness we might be inclined to turn away from God. We know our own brokenness and failures—they are both profoundly disruptive and thoroughly destructive. The psalmist would say that such turning away is akin to living in the depths. And yet in those disruptive and destructive moments, when the darkness of the depths threatens to have the last word, the psalmist turns to God—directly to God—and cries out. And we are invited to do the same.
The point of Psalm 130 is not to remind people of their sinfulness—my hunch is that most if not all of us are keenly aware of our brokenness and sinfulness. The point of Psalm 130, rather, is to remind people that the darkness of the depths is not life as God intended it—that such darkness is not the end of our story (v. 3). In his book Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis, Greg Jones acknowledges the reality of sin but then reminds us of a greater reality still:
To be forgiven by God, to be initiated in the life of God’s kingdom, is to be transferred from one narrative—the narrative of death-dealing sin—to the narrative of God’s reconciliation in Christ. And in the latter narrative, we are forgiven of our sin so that we can learn to become holy through lifelong repentance and forgiveness.23
One narrative exchanged for another—darkness for light, death for life. Despite the darkness, the psalmist leans forward toward the God he knows—the one who chooses to love us, redeem us, and forgive us . . . the one who invites us all into a new narrative, a narrative marked by grace.
TLOT 2:863.