Psalm 78
A maskil of Asaph.
1 My people, hear my teaching;
listen to the words of my mouth.
2 I will open my mouth with a parable;
I will utter hidden things, things from of old—
3 things we have heard and known,
things our ancestors have told us.
4 We will not hide them from their descendants;
we will tell the next generation
the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD,
his power, and the wonders he has done.
5 He decreed statutes for Jacob
and established the law in Israel,
which he commanded our ancestors
to teach their children,
6 so the next generation would know them,
even the children yet to be born,
and they in turn would tell their children.
7 Then they would put their trust in God
and would not forget his deeds
but would keep his commands.
8 They would not be like their ancestors—
a stubborn and rebellious generation,
whose hearts were not loyal to God,
whose spirits were not faithful to him.
9 The men of Ephraim, though armed with bows,
turned back on the day of battle;
10 they did not keep God’s covenant
and refused to live by his law.
11 They forgot what he had done,
the wonders he had shown them.
12 He did miracles in the sight of their ancestors
in the land of Egypt, in the region of Zoan.
13 He divided the sea and led them through;
he made the water stand up like a wall.
14 He guided them with the cloud by day
and with light from the fire all night.
15 He split the rocks in the wilderness
and gave them water as abundant as the seas;
16 he brought streams out of a rocky crag
and made water flow down like rivers.
17 But they continued to sin against him,
rebelling in the wilderness against the Most High.
18 They willfully put God to the test
by demanding the food they craved.
19 They spoke against God;
they said, “Can God really
spread a table in the wilderness?
20 True, he struck the rock,
and water gushed out,
streams flowed abundantly,
but can he also give us bread?
Can he supply meat for his people?”
21 When the LORD heard them, he was furious;
his fire broke out against Jacob,
and his wrath rose against Israel,
22 for they did not believe in God
or trust in his deliverance.
23 Yet he gave a command to the skies above
and opened the doors of the heavens;
24 he rained down manna for the people to eat,
he gave them the grain of heaven.
25 Human beings ate the bread of angels;
he sent them all the food they could eat.
26 He let loose the east wind from the heavens
and by his power made the south wind blow.
27 He rained meat down on them like dust,
birds like sand on the seashore.
28 He made them come down inside their camp,
all around their tents.
29 They ate till they were gorged—
he had given them what they craved.
30 But before they turned from what they craved,
even while the food was still in their mouths,
31 God’s anger rose against them;
he put to death the sturdiest among them,
cutting down the young men of Israel.
32 In spite of all this, they kept on sinning;
in spite of his wonders, they did not believe.
33 So he ended their days in futility
and their years in terror.
34 Whenever God slew them, they would seek him;
they eagerly turned to him again.
35 They remembered that God was their Rock,
that God Most High was their Redeemer.
36 But then they would flatter him with their mouths,
lying to him with their tongues;
37 their hearts were not loyal to him,
they were not faithful to his covenant.
38 Yet he was merciful;
he forgave their iniquities
and did not destroy them.
Time after time he restrained his anger
and did not stir up his full wrath.
39 He remembered that they were but flesh,
a passing breeze that does not return.
40 How often they rebelled against him in the wilderness
and grieved him in the wasteland!
41 Again and again they put God to the test;
they vexed the Holy One of Israel.
42 They did not remember his power—
the day he redeemed them from the oppressor,
43 the day he displayed his signs in Egypt,
his wonders in the region of Zoan.
44 He turned their river into blood;
they could not drink from their streams.
45 He sent swarms of flies that devoured them,
and frogs that devastated them.
46 He gave their crops to the grasshopper,
their produce to the locust.
47 He destroyed their vines with hail
and their sycamore-figs with sleet.
48 He gave over their cattle to the hail,
their livestock to bolts of lightning.
49 He unleashed against them his hot anger,
his wrath, indignation and hostility—
a band of destroying angels.
50 He prepared a path for his anger;
he did not spare them from death
but gave them over to the plague.
51 He struck down all the firstborn of Egypt,
the firstfruits of manhood in the tents of Ham.
52 But he brought his people out like a flock;
he led them like sheep through the wilderness.
53 He guided them safely, so they were unafraid;
but the sea engulfed their enemies.
54 And so he brought them to the border of his holy land,
to the hill country his right hand had taken.
55 He drove out nations before them
and allotted their lands to them as an inheritance;
he settled the tribes of Israel in their homes.
56 But they put God to the test
and rebelled against the Most High;
they did not keep his statutes.
57 Like their ancestors they were disloyal and faithless,
as unreliable as a faulty bow.
58 They angered him with their high places;
they aroused his jealousy with their idols.
59 When God heard them, he was furious;
he rejected Israel completely.
60 He abandoned the tabernacle of Shiloh,
the tent he had set up among humans.
61 He sent the ark of his might into captivity,
his splendor into the hands of the enemy.
62 He gave his people over to the sword;
he was furious with his inheritance.
63 Fire consumed their young men,
and their young women had no wedding songs;
64 their priests were put to the sword,
and their widows could not weep.
65 Then the Lord awoke as from sleep,
as a warrior wakes from the stupor of wine.
66 He beat back his enemies;
he put them to everlasting shame.
67 Then he rejected the tents of Joseph,
he did not choose the tribe of Ephraim;
68 but he chose the tribe of Judah,
Mount Zion, which he loved.
69 He built his sanctuary like the heights,
like the earth that he established forever.
70 He chose David his servant
and took him from the sheep pens;
71 from tending the sheep he brought him
to be the shepherd of his people Jacob, of Israel his inheritance.
72 And David shepherded them with integrity of heart;
with skillful hands he led them.
Original Meaning
The Heading (78:0)
AS WE HAVE SEEN PREVIOUSLY (in the heading of Ps 74), Psalm 78 is also described as a maskil of Asaph. While it is impossible to determine for certain what is implied by this Hebrew term, it does appear to have wisdom or contemplative overtones. The Hebrew verb sakal (from which the noun maskil is derived) generally means “to understand” or “to have insight.”2
The maskil, therefore, is often thought of as referring to a didactic or meditative poem.3
Clearly, not all the psalms that take the heading maskil can be described as wisdom psalms. But the strongly didactic flavor of Psalm 78 combined with the first two verses, which are couched in wisdom terminology, means that we have fairly good reason to assume this poem is in fact the product of Israel’s ancient wisdom schools.4
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Learning from History (78:1–8)
MY
PEOPLE, HEAR MY TEACHING. The opening words of Psalm 78 are replete with the language of Old Testament wisdom literature. The public call to “hear my teaching” (lit., “give ear to my instruction [torati]” [v. 1]) would normally be associated either with the office of prophet (e.g., see Isa 28:23) or wisdom teacher (Job 33:1). But the “parable” and the “hidden things” (more literally, “proverb” [mashal] and “riddle” [hidot], Ps 78:2) are the domain of the wisdom teacher.5
Psalm 78:1–2 present the reader with a context for understanding what is to follow: “Heads up! This is important instruction. Watch out for the lessons to be learned from this poem.” Such was the purpose of the wisdom teacher—to instruct God’s people in the way of life and fear of the Lord. This interpretive call applies just as much to readers of our generation. We too are forewarned that teaching follows the psalmist’s call, so we should be prepared to see and heed concrete lessons from this poem.
Things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us. The psalmist continues his instructional theme by discussing the transmission of teaching from one generation to the next (vv. 3–4). He will teach “hidden things, things from of old” to the present generation of God’s people (v. 2). These weighty matters are not new teachings; rather, this is wisdom that had been taught by the preceding generation of God’s people. The teacher’s exhortation is that the current generation should not fail in its responsibility to teach these selfsame lessons to the succeeding generation (v. 4).
This emphasis on the importance of the transmission of God’s teaching from one generation to the next is reminiscent of the instruction of Deuteronomy. The centerpiece of Old Testament faith is known as the Shema—“Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength” (Deut 6:4–5). This call to singularity of worship and wholehearted devotion to the living God is immediately followed by instruction concerning the transmission of this foundational teaching from one generation to the next (vv. 6–9). Clearly, it is never enough for any particular generation to be so focused on their own piety that they should fail in their responsibility to instruct the generations that follow. In the theology of Deuteronomy, practice and instruction are inseparable. As each generation learns what it means to have the commandments of the Lord on their own hearts in their own context (v. 6), so too, simultaneously, they bear the obligation to teach these commandments to the succeeding generation (v. 7; see also 4:9).
This tone is very much that of Psalm 78:1–8. The speaker has learned important lessons from faithful people of a previous generation, and he declares his determination that these lessons should not die out with the present community of faith—rather, they must be taught to the coming generation. There is a note of determination in the imperfect verbs of v. 4: “We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD” (emphasis added). The intent of the author is quite clear: neither the present nor the coming generation of faith should forget these important lessons from Israel’s history. “It is vital that the present generation plays its role as a link between the past generation and the next generation. Without this, the chain of learning will be broken.”6
The praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done. We should take careful note of the object of this instruction from generation to generation. The ancestors of the faith told the psalmist about “the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power and the wonders he has done.” This statement is programmatic for what follows throughout the rest of the psalm. The hearer and reader of the psalm should focus their attention on Yahweh’s awesome, salvific deeds in the history of his dealings with his people, and, by implication, they should think about the proper response to such a God in their generation.
Focus on “praiseworthy deeds” grounds this reminder within the paradigmatic celebration of divine salvation that is Exodus 15 (see comments on Ps 77:16–20). The Song of Moses also delights in God’s “praiseworthy deeds” (Exod 15:11, rendered “awesome in glory” in the NIV but translated more literally, “awesome in praiseworthy deeds”7
). Over and above this delighting, the psalmist encourages remembrance of Yahweh’s “power” (possibly implying “powerful acts” in the context of the verse8
) and “the wonders he has done.”9
The primary focus of the memory must be on the amazing faithfulness of God directed toward his people in the past. He has worked powerfully in human history for the benefit of his children—let them not forget that fact. We will see later that there is a secondary focus of memory (the inappropriate response of previous generations to God’s awesome saving power), but the primary reminder occurs here in Psalm 78:4. The God of the covenant, Yahweh, has performed praiseworthy, powerful, and wondrous acts in order to help his people—no generation of the believing community should ever be allowed to forget them. As Craig Broyles notes, if God’s people are to trust him as they ought, “A living memory of God and his acts is the crucial factor.”10
He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel. Remembrance of God is not an illusive task based entirely on an oral tradition. Clearly, the psalmist’s opening exhortation is that this generation should remember for themselves who God is and pass that message of hope on to their children. Often in the ancient Near East the remembrance and transmission of foundational teaching was based on the memorizing of stories verbatim by a professional class of teachers or storytellers. Normally, this elite endeavor was specialized; but Israel’s task is made easier by the gift of revelation. By decreeing written statutes and establishing a written law for his people, God has made cross-generational education much easier. His people have been entrusted with a written pool of teaching by which they can know him and make him known to others. The psalmist’s point is, again, very similar to the message we read in Deuteronomy. Foreseeing the written form of the sermons and laws currently being delivered by Moses, Yahweh declares to his people in Deuteronomy 30:11–14,
Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, “Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, “Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.
The point of written revelation is that knowing God becomes easier. People are not dependent on hearsay accounts or epic tasks to discover the truth—decreed statutes and established law bring God closer to the people. Such is the purpose of written revelation from God: it brings God closer than we could otherwise imagine (Deut 4:7–8).
So the next generation would know them. Deuteronomy is equally clear that as we receive God’s revelation, we also assume the responsibility to teach its message to the coming generations (Deut 4:9; 6:7, 19–25). The psalmist stresses the importance of continuing instruction about living lives of remembrance and devotion to God from one generation to the next. “Continuity is underscored by the repetitions, ancestors (vv. 3, 5, 8), children (vv. 4, 6), generations (vv. 4, 6, 8), ‘tell’ (vv. 3, 4, 6), ‘know’ or ‘teach’ (vv. 3, 5, 6).”11
It is not enough just to respond to our own knowledge of God. Each generation must both respond to and teach true knowledge of God.
Then they would put their trust in God. The purpose of learning from God’s word is clear—that each generation would know and love God (Ps 78:7). Equally, the purpose of passing on God’s revelation is not for children simply to acquire head knowledge or learn only about Israel’s history. Teaching God’s saving miracles and his revealed word serves a specific purpose, namely, that the next generation should meet with God and respond to him. Transmission of Israel’s foundational knowledge of God is not an academic task. It is, rather, a formative endeavor designed to shape the next generation into a community of believers who fear and respond to the Lord. Trusting, remembering, and keeping are the active images of a healthy community of faith. Every community of God’s people must respond to God for themselves12
by remembering his works in behalf of his people and being shaped by his word.
They would not be like their ancestors. The purpose of the present generation’s teaching task is expressed both positively (v. 7) and negatively (v. 8). As well as cultivating trust and torah-obedience, the aim of this act of education is also that those who follow should avoid the failings of those who have gone before. Not being loyal in heart or faithful in spirit stands in contrast to the practice of trusting, remembering, and keeping in the previous verse and describes the lack of proper, holistic response to the goodness of God. The NIV misses something of the nuance of the original text by translating the verb as a stative rather than the Hebrew’s causative. The translation should really read, “a stubborn and rebellious generation that did not establish its heart.” It is not the case that the hearts of the desert generation just happened not to be loyal, whereas the hearts of other generations just happened to be faithful. The psalmist clearly implies that the responsibility for making their hearts firm or loyal lay firmly with each particular group of God’s people. It was their responsibility to establish their hearts—to make their hearts loyal to God—but they singularly failed to do so; therefore, they strayed. “[T]he psalm assumes that we do the firming of our heart. The result of the people’s failure to do so was that their spirit was not true to God. This is the tendency the psalm will illustrate.”13
So, the first section of Psalm 78 is an exhortation addressed to the current generation of God’s people to learn lessons of faith and devotion from Israel’s history and to pass these truths on to succeeding generations of the covenant community.
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Failures of Faith and Miracles Galore (78:9–16)
THE ESSENCE OF THE EXHORTATION in verses 1–8 is that God’s people should learn to trust him based on the great works of salvation he has accomplished for them in the past. Verse 8 speaks of previous generations who have failed to learn this lesson, and verses 9–11 go on to give a historical illustration of such failure.
The men of Ephraim, though armed with bows, turned back on the day of battle. The Old Testament and later Jewish traditions relate a number of battle-related incidents in which the tribe of Ephraim does not cover itself with glory. It is therefore difficult to establish with any degree of confidence which particular event the psalmist has in mind in making his statement.14
What is more, it is not entirely clear what links the military failure mentioned in verse 9 with the failure of covenantal devotion in verses 10–11. The Hebrew phrase translated “though armed with bows” is unclear, but the meaning of the verse seems to imply that Ephraim failed despite being well equipped for the task that they faced.15
They did not keep God’s covenant. Verses 10–11 give clear reasons for Ephraim’s failure. Whichever events the psalmist had in mind, there is no doubt about the cause of Ephraim’s defeat. The poet describes their downfall as having a threefold root: failure to keep God’s covenant with them, refusal to walk in the ways of God’s law, and forgetfulness regarding God’s miraculous works in the past. This assessment of Ephraim’s failure provides the paradigm of judgment the poet uses in this psalm as a warning for the present generation. Failure to remember the works of God in behalf of his people is associated with failure to keep the covenant and rejection of the law. This thought continues the theme of remembrance emphasized so clearly in Psalm 77. Not remembering is like not obeying—clearly a serious matter in the mind of the poet.
The dominant tribe of Ephraim simply forgot, which had serious consequences.
If wisdom is the fruit of the collective memory so as to avoid repeating past mistakes, forgetfulness dooms one to repeat past errors. Analogously, forgetfulness of God’s benefits is tantamount to their nullification, while remembering them reactivates God’s wonders for the present and stimulates the people’s faith and faithfulness.16
He did miracles in the sight of their ancestors in the land of Egypt. Moving on from the failures of the tribe of Ephraim, the psalmist reminds his hearers of the arch-paradigm of divine salvation, namely, the exodus from Egypt. Effectively, in Psalm 78:12–16 the psalmist is outlining the miraculous past deeds that Yahweh worked in behalf of his people—deeds that should have been remembered by the men of Ephraim. Interestingly, the Hebrew word translated “miracles” in the NIV (v. 12) is actually a singular noun (“miracle”).17
The implication seems to be that the exodus functions as the paradigmatic miracle of salvation to be remembered by all generations of God’s people. But that overarching miracle consists of many miraculous parts. Israel’s release from the control of the ancient world’s greatest superpower was clearly an event beyond all comprehension apart from the intervention of God. What is more, Yahweh actually performed many miracles in securing their release and nationhood (Exod 13–17). So the psalmist draws attention to the parting of the Red Sea (Ps 78:13), the pillars of cloud and fire that led Israel through the desert, and the astonishing provision of water from a rock in the middle of the desert. Just as the exodus itself defies natural explanation, so also do each of these scenarios. Israel’s release from Egypt was impossible, crossing the Red Sea was impossible, surviving the trials of the desert was impossible—yet all of these things happened. The point the psalmist makes is clear: such events should never be forgotten, and such a God should never be forgotten!
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Miracles, Rebellion, and Retribution (78:17–31)
BUT THEY CONTINUED TO SIN AGAINST HIM. Forgetfulness is a cross-generational phenomenon. Its effects go far beyond the people involved at first instance, as is reflected in the psalmist’s use of “they” in verse 17. Who are the “they” in question? At first it seems that the most likely candidates are the men of Ephraim, as they are the obvious subject in verse 9; but the acts described in verses 17–31 show that the psalmist actually has in mind the equally forgetful “ancestors” mentioned in verse 12. It is interesting to note this progression through the generations. The exodus generation was unfaithful, and they set the tone for the generations to follow. As their forgetfulness led to covenantal unfaithfulness, so also they set the example that was followed by the “men of Ephraim” (v. 9). The psalmist’s desire is to keep the present generation of believers from falling into the same trap.
They willfully put God to the test. The language used here draws us back to the rebellion of Israel’s wilderness wanderings (Exod 16; Num 11). The NIV rightly brings out the “willfulness” of the people’s testing. These challenges were not the natural ones posed by the barrier of the Red Sea and the people’s need for water in the wilderness. This testing of God was based on desire, not need. Yahweh had without fail stepped up to the plate for Israel when they were faced with a situation of need—miracles to secure their release from Egypt, parting the waters of the sea, providing water in the desert. The testing here in Psalm 78 is of a different ilk. First, it calls either God’s character or his competence into question (vv. 19–20). “Testing” is the theme word of the book of Numbers—it is the primary characteristic of the wilderness generation (Num 14:20–25). They constantly tested Yahweh, and by doing so they cast doubt on both his love for them (Exod 14:11) and, as in this case, his ability to help them (Ps 78:19–20). Either way, there is an implied accusation in their testing of God. Their challenge represents that lack of covenantal faithfulness echoed in the actions of the “men of Ephraim” (v. 10). Moreover, their craving leads them to a skewed perspective on the reality of their experience. Numbers 11:4–5 reflects the amazing perverseness of their rebellion against God: “The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, ‘If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic.’ ”
The perverse nature of their response to the miracles of Yahweh in the desert shows that lapses of memory work in two ways: forgetting the goodness of God and forgetting the true nature of life without God. Slavery, brutality, and genocide in Egypt are forgotten in the remembering of cucumbers, onions, and garlic! Here we see another example of how remembrance is not a question of intellectual capacity but, instead, a question of obedience and right relationship with God. (We will return to this matter under Contemporary Significance.)
They spoke against God. The psalmist’s assessment of the thoughts of Israel in the desert informs us of the tone with which the words of Psalm 78:19–20 were spoken. These expressions were not genuine questions seeking an answer. They were accusations leveled against God. Their failing is as much in the way they spoke as it is in the words they uttered (see Exod 16:2–3; 17:7). Their skeptical interrogation belittles the miracles they had seen. The implication is, “Well, anyone can bring water from a rock, but setting a table of meat in the desert . . . now that would be a true miracle!” Their doubt denies the logic of the miracles they had witnessed. Surely the God who brings water from stone can also provide bread and meat, yet the people were consumed with doubt rather than the confidence their previous experience should have engendered (Exod 16).18
When the LORD heard them, he was furious. The harm of forgetfulness is illustrated by God’s response in Psalm 78:21–22. The people’s grumbling attitude damaged the covenantal relationship and had to be addressed. God never hesitated to perform miracles when his people were in need, but his anger was aroused by their illogical lack of faith, which denied the people’s own experience with Yahweh. They questioned his goodness and competence, but they had no just cause for doing so; therefore, God was angry. Their forgetfulness was not passive carelessness—it was an act of disbelief and lack of trust (v. 22). Effectively, their failure to remember God’s good provision amounted to an act of rebellion.19
Yet . . . he gave them the grain of heaven. Despite the rebellion of the people, Yahweh continued to prove his good character and unquestionable competence by providing the very things they had so skeptically demanded. Verses 23–25 first draw attention to the provision of manna from heaven. The exodus generation did not believe it was possible to “spread a table in the wilderness,” yet that is exactly what God did for them. They needed a staple food, and God provided it for them. The irony of the poet’s historical presentation lies in the very ease with which God met this requirement. Verses 19–20 imply that providing food in the desert was a task beyond even Yahweh’s ability, yet these verses present the accomplishment of this miracle by no more than the command of the Lord. In imagery reminiscent of the creation narratives of Genesis 1–2, God speaks and his purpose becomes reality. He simply commands bread from heaven, and this bread appears. The psalmist reemphasizes the astounding nature of this miracle. Just as familiarity with the manna eventually resulted in the people’s contempt (Num 11:4–6), so also familiarity with the account of the miracle can breed an apathetic response from subsequent generations of God’s people. Every one of the poet’s hearers knew about the provision of manna, and familiarity with any miracle story removes something of its sense of awe and power. By way of this vivid poetic presentation, the poet seeks to renew the “wow factor” in his contemporaries’ response to this miracle. Literally the Hebrew says, “Men ate the bread of heroes!” Sometimes heroes (’abirim) refers to mighty warrior types (Ps 76:5; Lam 1:15); but the image can also refer to God himself (Gen 49:24; Ps 132:2, 5), and here it seems to refer to heavenly beings.20
The vividness of the imagery is designed to reinvigorate the present generation’s response to a familiar account and toward the Author of the miracle it records: “Can you imagine?” the poet says to his hearers—“They ate the bread of angels!”
He rained meat down on them like dust. Verses 26–29 then retell the miraculous provision of meat in the flocks of quail that landed in the Israelite camp (Exod 16). There are interesting repetitions in the poetic retelling of the provision of both the manna and the birds. Both the manna and the meat “rained down” upon them (Ps 78:24, 27); both events clearly have their origin “in the heavens” (vv. 23–24, 26); and in both cases God provided more than the people could actually eat (vv. 25, 29). These themes highlight the divine origin of the miraculous events—they were not happenstance—and the themes also emphasize the expansive generosity of God. The idea of bread and meat as “raining down” suggests massive volume as well as heavenly source. The imagery is of provision that is gracious and generous rather than reluctant and miserly.
He had given them what they craved. The imagery seems idyllic despite the previous rebellion of the people (vv. 17–21). Once again, the psalmist picks up on the language of exodus in describing the people’s experience of plenty thanks to the provision of God (Exod 16:8; Num 11:4), but these references to the desert stories also ring warning bells in the ears of the psalmist’s listeners. His language is the language of Exodus and Numbers, but when these words are found in the Pentateuch their association is with judgment and God’s punishment. The intertextual references of Psalm 78:29 serve as a warning that not all is as idyllic as it seems. The words used in this verse remind the people of God’s wrath and punishment toward the wilderness generation, and this bridging verse leads the psalmist into a more explicit discussion of that very theme.
God’s anger rose against them. Yahweh had provided for them the very things they craved, but his provision should not be seen as a tacit acceptance of the people’s rebellious behavior and distrust of God (vv. 17–21). God’s miraculous provision of the things the people craved proved his capability despite their doubts. The fact that God condescends to meet the people’s grumbling demands, however, does not mean that their wayward attitude has been forgotten. There was a real sense in which religious practice in the ancient Near East revolved around attempts to manipulate one’s god. Whether it be by offering sacrifices that did not really cost the individual all that much, or by making promises one had no intention of keeping, the purpose was to make the god work in the manipulator’s behalf even by way of trickery or deception. Could it be that this attitude was that of the exodus generation? Having just come out of Egypt, where there was a slew of gods and a marketplace of religious practices, it is just possible that this rebellious and forgetful people thought they had managed to manipulate Yahweh into providing the very thing they desired. But verses 30–31 make it quite clear that Israel’s God is not to be toyed with! As C. S. Lewis writes in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, “Aslan is not a tame lion,” and clearly Yahweh is not a tame god.21
There is a sense in which the trickery of the people is met by a “trick” from God—before they had even turned away from their food, God’s punishment struck.22
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
The Stubbornness of Rebellion (78:32–39)
IN SPITE OF ALL THIS, THEY KEPT ON SINNING. Throughout the Bible, God’s punishment is presented as a means of securing repentance (e.g., see Deut 29:22–29; cf. 30:1–10). God sent plagues or storms or enemies, all under his control, in order to prompt his people to repent and change when they were being rebellious. Despite divine judgment, however, this generation continued in rebellion against Yahweh (Ps 78:32).23
The people would not learn their lesson—they still refused to believe. Constantly, the Scriptures make a connection between failure to believe God or his word and wayward behavior.24
The people’s failure to relate rightly to Yahweh inevitably led to wrong behavior and empty lives (v. 33). The irony, of course, is that this generation is the one freed from Egyptian slavery. What an amazing opportunity to enjoy and delight in their release, yet their faithless rebellion led them to futility, not freedom.25
Their hearts were not loyal to him. Verses 34–35 present a picture similar to the one we find in the book of Judges. God’s repeated rebuke would bring a “repentance” that was far from genuine (v. 36). The people would, in a sense, say the right things (v. 35)26
and, in a sense, do the right things (v. 34).27
But their words and deeds were only superficial and did not reflect a true change of heart (v. 37).
The psalmist contends that the old truism is, in fact, true: namely, “the heart of the problem is the problem of the heart.” That previous generation, which is being used as a warning to the present generation of God’s people, put up only a facade of repentance, and it remained on a superficial level. They were not “loyal” in heart (lit., “their hearts were not firm toward him”) and “they were not faithful to his covenant.” The whole point of a covenant, like a modern contract, is that it puts under obligation both parties to the agreement. The poet paints a picture of a community who desired all the benefits of covenant without being willing to accept its obligations. They saw God’s miraculous provision, yet they did not believe (v. 32). They received God’s rebuke—designed to bring real transformation—yet they would not change (vv. 34, 37). Still it appears that the people thought of God as a plaything in their own hands—one to be manipulated at their own will. It is evident from the psalmist’s presentation of Israel’s exodus generation that genuine devotion to Yahweh was far from them. Their response to God was more functional than it was real, and this kind of response is always a danger in the practice of religion. (See Contemporary Significance for further discussion.)
Yet he was merciful. Remarkably, Yahweh did not respond to his people in kind. His character remains unchanged despite his people’s failings (v. 38). Who God is fundamentally is an absolute that does not change in response to the weakness of his followers. The fabled old man trying to save a scorpion from drowning shows this kind of unchangeability—and notes the same characteristic in the scorpion. Each time the man reaches out to rescue the venomous insect, it stings his hand. A passerby mocks the futility of this exercise, but the old man replies, “What the scorpion is by nature, does not change who I am by nature.” It is interesting that, before continuing with the narrative of Psalm 78, the poet interjects an emphatic statement of God’s true identity (literally, “But he is merciful”).28
The people’s attitude of heart led to negative behaviors, but the good character of God shapes his activity for the benefit of his people.
He forgave their iniquities. Verse 38 is an unusual verse in the Old Testament because it speaks of God’s atoning for his people’s sin (yikapper, translated “forgave” in the NIV). It is unusual for God to be the one who performs atoning activity; normally in the Old Testament this work is that of the priest. Here, however, Yahweh himself takes on the role of the one who does what is necessary to deal with his people’s sinfulness. “God’s compassion expresses itself in taking the initiative to solve the problem caused by the people’s waywardness.”29
Time after time he restrained his anger. Once again echoing the desert experience of the exodus generation, God’s compassionate character manifests itself in merciful action toward the ill-deserving people. At the point of Israel’s iconic failure in the incident of the golden calf (Exod 32–34), God reveals his true nature to Moses (Exod 34:6–7):
And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation.”
God’s compassion and slowness to anger are evidenced in the history of Israel on the countless occasions in which the nation’s behavior merited divine rebuke, yet Yahweh, true to his character, stayed his hand.
He remembered that they were but flesh. Whereas Israel’s remembering God in Psalm 78:35 lacked sincerity, we see here that God remembers
his people’s human frailty, and this remembrance leads him to compassion. Even though the exodus generation failed to keep their covenantal obligations, Yahweh remained true to his side of the bargain. Remembering their weakness, he showed mercy that was true to his character and promise. Yet the following verses show that ultimately, and even taking into account his fundamentally compassionate nature, God cannot allow himself to be mocked by the flagrant rebellion of his people.
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Rebellion Despite Release (78:40–55)
THE SECTION OF THE PSALM covering verses 40–55 addresses the people’s continued rebellion despite the fact that they were witnesses to the miracles of the exodus from Egypt.
How often they rebelled against him in the wilderness. Verses 40–41 draw attention to the repeated failures of the exodus generation while they were in the desert. Their rebellion was not just a one-off or even an occasional matter. Time and again, this newborn nation rebelled against their Father and Redeemer.
They did not remember his power. Once again, the root of Israel’s rejection of God is found in their failure to remember. Literally, the psalmist laments the people’s failure to “remember his hand,” a metaphor that occurs frequently in the Old Testament to refer to Yahweh’s powerful, saving activity in behalf of his people in the exodus from Egypt (Exod 13:3, 14–17; Deut 6:21; 7:8 et al.). The main point of Psalm 78:42–51 is simple: Remembering the redemptive miracles of the exodus that secured the people’s release from torture and slavery should have been enough to maintain their fidelity to Yahweh. They did not remember, and they were not faithful.30
But he brought his people out like a flock. Israel’s rebellion is made all the more difficult to comprehend because they were forgetful not only of God’s miraculous salvific power but also of his shepherding care for them (vv. 52–55). The miracles they had witnessed in the plagues that secured their release demonstrated the awesome power and remarkable ability of Yahweh. His provision and care for them in the desert demonstrated his fatherly heart and loving care for his chosen people. God’s manifest power should have made Israel fearful of forgetting. His loving care should have inspired an affection that kept Israel from forgetting.31
To the amazement of the psalmist, neither one proved to be the case.
He guided them safely. The miracles of God’s provision and care are no less amazing than the spectacularly destructive plagues that broke the might of a superpower in order to secure Israel’s freedom from slavery. The imagery in this section (vv. 40–55) speaks of God’s multifaceted intervention in behalf of his people. The underlying image is of the God of promise who is at work in the temporal realm to do whatever is necessary to benefit his people. Sometimes this work is a display of power against those who oppose his children (vv. 42–51, 55). Sometimes his power miraculously opens pathways for his people (vv. 52–54). Sometimes his power provides for the needs of his flock (vv. 25–29). Whatever the specific expression of God’s power may be, the psalmist reminds his readers that his multivalent activity serves the purpose of blessing his people.
He settled the tribes of Israel in their homes. Ultimately, the divine activity of these verses serves the aim of providing a home and place of rest for God’s people. To deliver them from being a landless, downtrodden, exploited people, Yahweh works to give Israel a home, with all the implications of rest that accompany that image (e.g., “settled” implies dwelling in safety32
). This prominent biblical theme finds many echoes in the Psalter (see the discussion of Ps 84). Yahweh’s purpose was to provide rest for his people—a rich image illustrating the aim of following God in obedience, the aim of discipleship. The psalmist presents Yahweh as the absolute owner of Canaan whose right to dispose of the land as he pleases is beyond question (Ps 78:54–55); therefore, he can give it to whomever he pleases. This theme picks up on the Pentateuchal teaching that the nations living in the promised land lost it because of their failure to adhere to God’s standards (Gen 15:13–16) and on the warnings that the same will happen to Israel should they fail to follow God’s ways (Deut 8). The rest that was God’s aim for Israel could only come as a result of covenantal faithfulness and commitment. Would Israel finally learn this lesson as they transitioned from being a nomadic, desert people to being a nation with a land?
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Failure and Withdrawal (78:56–64)
BUT THEY PUT GOD TO THE TEST. There is an almost inevitable sense of disappointment as the poet again recounts the failings of previous generations. This time the focus switches from the exodus generation to Israel throughout the period of the Judges until the reign of David. This generation of God’s people is different—generations, in fact, are implied—but they did not learn from the historical events of those who experienced the exodus from Egypt yet forgot the God who had saved them. The settled people repeated the mistakes of their ancestors in testing God and rebelling against him (Ps 78:56; cf. vv. 18, 41), as is made explicit in verse 57, where the poet compares the failures of the generations in the land with those of their forefathers. Interestingly, Hosea 7:16 also describes Ephraim (named in Ps 78:67) as a “faulty bow.” Possibly picking up on this Hosea tradition, the poet in Psalm 78:57 plays on his earlier description of Ephraim, who in verse 9 is said to have turned away despite their being “armed with bows.” Their bows were useless then, and the poet makes the point that the current generation is equally deceptive. A bow gives the appearance of strength and threat, but a faulty bow is absolutely useless. “Israel is compared to a bow from which an arrow suddenly shoots off in the wrong direction.”33
There is no point in such a weapon. Equally, Israel gives the appearance of covenantal relationship with Yahweh, but the reality is drastically different. Their spiritual aim is skewed, as evidenced by their idolatry in the high places (v. 58).
They angered him with their high places. While forgetting was the order of the day for the exodus generation (vv. 11, 42), the people in the land resorted to idolatry (v. 58). In itself, this turning is arguably a type of forgetfulness—forgetfulness of the true God, who is able to work miracles, in favor of gods of wood and stone that can do nothing.34
But it is forgetfulness exacerbated by adultery. The idea of arousing God’s
jealousy is an image similar to that of a betrayed spouse. The covenantal relationship between God and his people is commonly held in parallel with the marriage relationship in the Old Testament (e.g., see Hos 1–3; Jer 31:32). Israel’s idolatry gave rise to God’s justifiable jealousy just as a betrayed spouse has a right to be jealous, but without that jealousy’s leading into sin.
He rejected Israel completely. Psalm 78:59–64 highlights the full extent of Israel’s unfaithfulness by recounting the severity of Yahweh’s response to it. The people repeatedly turned to useless idols rather than to God. So when God hears their prayers to lifeless statues—with the ironic implication that Yahweh alone hears these prayers—he becomes very angry. (This anger echoes God’s response to the selfish and arrogant prayers of the exodus generation in v. 21.) His anger led to rejection of his people—a rejection manifested in the removal of the caring intervention witnessed by Israel in Egypt and the desert and celebrated by the psalmist in verses 42–55. All the things he did for the benefit of his people in bringing them out of Egypt, leading them through the desert, and bringing them into the land, he now refuses to do for them in an attempt to cause them to repent.
He abandoned the tabernacle of Shiloh. Psalm 78:60 reflects on the conundrum that lies at the heart of much of the biblical narrative, namely, How can an absolutely holy God dwell in the midst of a sinful people? The overarching story of the Bible makes it clear that God never rejects his people entirely; however, from time to time the excessive sinfulness of God’s people is met by the removal of his presence for a period of time. This was the people’s experience at Shiloh (1 Sam 4–6).35
Israel’s behavior in the land was much the same as her behavior in the desert following the people’s release from Egypt, and the psalmist points out that the rejection of Yahweh in the land led to even worse consequences for such behavior. Yahweh had threatened to destroy Israel in response to their idolatry over the golden calf (Exod 32:9–10). Though he relented in response to Moses’s prayer, a further threat remained, namely, that God would not go with Israel because of his anger against them (Exod 33:1–3). Once again, however, Moses’s relentless prayer appears to cause God to relent, and in the end he did not remove his presence from his people (vv. 12–17). But such was the rebellion of the people in the land (seen throughout the book of Judges) and the corruption among the priesthood (1 Sam 2:12–36) that Yahweh took the step of rejecting Shiloh as the place of his dwelling—despite the fact that his tabernacle and the ark of the covenant were there. The external symbols of divine presence were not sufficient to retain the reality of presence because the sinfulness of the people and priesthood had forced the holy God to remove his presence. The dichotomy of a righteous God who desires relationship with an unrighteous people is a tension that ultimately only finds release in the cross (see Bridging Contexts).
While God’s withdrawal from his people was not permanent, the consequences were stark. The ark of the covenant was taken into captivity by the Philistines (Ps 78:61; cf. 1 Sam 4:1–11), Israel suffered a great military defeat and loss of life (Ps 78:62–63;1 Sam 4:10–11), and the priestly line of Eli fell to the sword as a result of their godlessness (Ps 78:64;1 Sam 4:11, 19–22). The psalmist is keen to remind the people that the exodus generation was not the only one marked by unfaithfulness toward God and that the consequences of spiritual forgetfulness are stark.
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
Original Meaning
Forgiveness and Renewal (78:65–72)
THEN THE LORD AWOKE AS FROM SLEEP. To mark the sudden change in circumstances that Israel experienced, the psalmist adopts two extremely uncommon metaphors to describe God—the sleeping god and the drunken warrior. The point of these metaphors, of course, is not to imply that God was either sleeping or drunk, but whatever the cause, he seems to have been inattentive. The imagery used here communicates the suddenness of Yahweh’s transition from anger and inactivity to dynamic action in behalf of his people. From their perspective, it is as though God has awoken from a bad-tempered, drunken sleep and finally struck out at their enemies. Of course, the psalmist is well aware that Yahweh’s inactivity did not result from sleepy inattention (hence the use of the simile “like”), but he uses word pictures to express the sudden change of Yahweh’s disposition.
He beat back his enemies. The image of the drunken warrior awaking from his stupor is not entirely accidental. Once Yahweh’s attention is refocused on Israel’s plight, the people witness again the raw power of the Warrior God who freed his people from Egypt with a mighty hand (Ps 78:42–51). This same God rose up again in power in behalf of his people when they were persecuted in the land of promise, just as he had when Abraham’s children were exiled outside the land of promise. As the following verses indicate, the Lord’s striking back against his enemies seems to be a reference to the military success and political emancipation won by David as God’s chosen instrument (2 Sam 5, 8).
He chose the tribe of Judah, Mount Zion, which he loved. The remarkable surprise of these verses is compounded by the very fact that no reason is given for the sudden change of heart that surprised the people so much. The psalmist does not draw attention to any act of national repentance. He does not point to a change of heart on the part of God’s wayward people. The images of the sleeping god and the drunken warrior (Ps 78:65) further compound the sense of sudden change from inactivity to action that results in the release of his people. So why this sudden change of heart? Quite simply, the poet makes it plain that divine intervention is based on divine choice. Yahweh chose Judah and Zion and David. No rationale is given for his choice to intervene, but the psalmist is aware that the roots of God’s election are to be found in divine love. Broyles is helpful here:
Yahweh acts unilaterally—for no prior reason he acts graciously. Although Israel’s repentance amounted to lying to him, yet he was merciful (vv. 34–39). Now the LORD
acts suddenly and the abruptness is underscored by two graphic similes (sleep and intoxication) one would normally think inappropriate for God (v. 65). He chooses Judah, Mount Zion, and David. No reasons are given for these choices. Nothing is said that they possess the qualities that Ephraim lacked, such as remembering God’s saving acts, believing God, or keeping his covenant. Focus is given to God’s free choice.36
God’s forgiveness and his decision ultimately not to withdraw his presence from his people are based on his gracious, sovereign will—based on his love. Why he chooses to be merciful will always be beyond our understanding. That he chooses to be merciful should always bring great hope to weak and wayward people.
He built his sanctuary like the heights. The symmetry with the previous stanza further emphasizes the sovereignty of God in his dealings with his people. Just as he rejected Shiloh as the place where his presence symbolically dwelt (v. 60), so he chooses Zion as the place of his presence. These choices are God’s choices. He will not allow himself to be manipulated by the selfish whims of his people—be they the desire for food on the part of the exodus generation (vv. 17–20) or Israel’s attempt to use the ark of the covenant as a talisman in their conflict with the Philistines (vv. 60–64)—but he will show his grace in his time and in accordance with his will. Interestingly, the psalmist associates the Jerusalem temple not with Solomon, its builder, but with David, the originator of the idea (2 Sam 7). Perhaps the poet does so because of Solomon’s ultimate association with the type of idolatry he critiques (Ps 78:58), or perhaps the psalmist simply wants to draw attention to the one who serves as the paradigm for godly rule in Israel despite all his failings.
Like the earth that he established forever. The description of the Jerusalem temple bears all the hallmarks of Old Testament eschatological expectation. Drawing a comparison between the establishment of God’s sanctuary on Mount Zion and the foundation of the earth shows the centrality and significance of the worship of the one true God. “God ‘loves’ Zion (cf. 47:4; 87:2) and there himself built the temple, high as the heavenly heights and deep as the foundations of the earth; it has thus a cosmic significance, center of the divine rule on earth.”37
This psalm is part of a collection that was probably gathered in response to the exile of Judah (see comments on Ps 74). At this time Judah was a bit-part player on the political stage of the ancient Near East, yet the author of this poem is aware that a universal and eternal significance remains in God’s dwelling place on earth. Zion is presented as stable, like the earth, even though the previous psalms in this collection have lamented the temple’s destruction. Somehow, the poet was aware that the choice of Zion and the choice of David would have profound ramifications far beyond the borders of Israel and the time in which he lived, even though often it did not appear that way throughout history.
He chose David his servant and took him from the sheep pens. This lengthy psalm ends with the poignant image of David as the shepherd-king. He is chosen by God, and the pastoral imagery of caring for sheep is transposed to caring for God’s people on a national scale. The presentation of David is idealized. He is described as the shepherd who looked after God’s people with “integrity of heart” and who led God’s people with “skillful hands” (Ps 78:72). From the reader’s knowledge of David based on the Old Testament historical books, however, it would be fair to say that this idealistic image of David is only partially true. We are not meant to assume that the psalmist was unaware of David’s failings, rather—as with his description of the temple as still having cosmic significance even after its destruction in the fall of Jerusalem—we see here the author’s hope in a coming king from the line of David who would truly represent the best of everything the historical David offered. The concluding voice of Psalm 78 speaks clearly of a future hope. God’s people may well be rife with failure and sin, but God’s grace, based on his love, is still alive and well. The temple may have been destroyed, but it is as stable as the foundations of the earth itself. And at the time in which this collection was added to the Psalter, there was no Davidic king reigning in Jerusalem, yet the psalmist is fully aware that Yahweh’s promise to David still holds true. For a poem that is dominated by warnings concerning the unfaithfulness of the covenant community, Psalm 78 concludes with a voice of hope. This hope, however, is not based on any confidence in the inherent ability of God’s people to keep his law. It is rather based on the sure knowledge of the God who loves his people and is still full of grace and forgiveness. The psalmist’s hope is founded on the remembrance of a God who keeps his promises.
Bridging Contexts
DARK PAST. Psalm 78, like its neighbors, emphasizes the importance of learning from the past. On a human level, our natural desire is to learn from the high points of human history. In some ways it is easier for us to look to the examples of our heroes and to seek to emulate them. We tend to try to brush embarrassing events under the carpet. We do not speak about those relatives who have brought shame upon the family or those activities we would rather forget. But the twice-repeated focus of Psalm 78 is on the failings of past generations of God’s people, and it is clear that we must learn from the errors of those who have gone before us as much as from the examples of those who have lived well. It is significant that the poet chooses to focus on two separate generations of Hebrews who failed to remember their God. As we see above, the psalmist first focuses on the rebellion of the exodus generation (vv. 12–55), but he also draws our attention to the repetition of this type of unfaithfulness during the reign of the latter judges (vv. 56–64). So not only does the psalmist point out the failings of a past generation—he also considers the failure of a separate generation to learn from the failings of their forefathers.
It is a clear biblical maxim that God expects his people to learn from his past dealings with their ancestors. And just as we are expected to follow the examples of those who honor God (Heb 11), so also we are meant to learn from the failings of both Israel and the church. Both the Bible and church history are full of good examples to be emulated, and also examples of the types of behavior we should avoid at all cost. Psalm 78 makes it clear that learning from negative examples is just as important as celebrating that which is positive. The early verses of the poem (vv. 1–8) set the tone for the historical account that follows. It is all about teaching and learning. The failure of God’s people to remember God’s character and works will always be disastrous for them. Failure to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before us condemns us to repeat those mistakes. The introductory verses of this historical account set the tone for the life of faith of each successive generation of the Christian community. Each new generation of the church should go beyond those who have gone before them. Today’s generation bears the responsibility to teach tomorrow’s generation, and tomorrow’s generation, in learning from our experiences, should be equipped to go farther than we have done in our experience of God. Each generation has the responsibility both to learn from the past and to teach for the future. In this way, God’s people should grow and mature as the generations pass. The process of discipleship is not exclusive to the New Testament—we see the same ideas at work here in Psalm 78.
Future hope. Focusing on the inadequacies of those who have gone before us should not, however, lead us to an attitude of negativity. Given the extensive consideration of the ways in which Israel had failed God, the concluding verses of Psalm 78 (vv. 65–72) seem unduly positive. How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the stability of Mount Zion and the temple in Jerusalem when the neighboring psalms of this book of the Psalter (e.g., Ps 74) lament the demise and destruction of these symbols of God’s permanent presence? How is it that the psalmist is able to celebrate the leadership of David so fulsomely (Ps 78:70–72) when the hearers of this psalm would be fully aware of David’s moral failings and also of the fact that, in the postexilic period, there was no Davidic king on the throne? Of course, it could be the case that this poem was written before the fall of Jerusalem and the removal of the Davidic line from power. But even if that be the case, Psalm 78 is found in its place in the Psalter amidst a collection that is in many ways dominated by the fall of Jerusalem. Why would the editors who collected these psalms include such a poem here? Jerusalem has fallen. The temple is destroyed. No son of David sits on the throne. How is it, then, that the psalmist is able to conclude on such a positive note of future hope?
Verses 65–72 are fully focused on the character of God and his gracious, sovereign power. Ultimately, the psalmist celebrates the fact that relationship with God is not dependent on the ability of God’s people to keep the covenant. Were that the case, each and every successive generation would experience the withdrawal of God’s presence from their midst. The final voice of Psalm 78 celebrates a God who is gracious simply because he is who he is . . . and not because of anything in us. So there is always hope for the future of God’s people, for his character remains unchanged and his promise cannot be broken.
These truths are the basis for the eschatological hope we see in the Old Testament. Despite all the failings of past generations, the psalmist sees that Yahweh still loved his people and chose Judah as the place of his dwelling and David as his own vicegerent. As far as we can tell from the psalmist’s presentation, Yahweh did these things not because of any inherent worth in either Judah or David but simply out of love and his sovereign willingness to do so. Even in the postexilic period, therefore, when Judah had been marginalized and the temple destroyed, the people of the covenant were able to look upon both Zion and David with hope. The temple may have been destroyed and the throne of David may have lain empty, but Yahweh had been faithful to his promise in the past, and the psalmist knew that he would be faithful again in the future. So throughout many of the psalms we see this continuing tone of hope when Zion and David are mentioned. Somehow, these concepts that were so richly symbolic in the past would become significant again.
Psalm 78 in the New Testament. It is possible that Psalm 78 is quoted in the Gospel of John. When the Pharisees question Jesus’ ability to work miracles in John 6:31, the statement they make is probably drawn from Psalm 78:24.38
Effectively, the Pharisees point out that Yahweh gave Israel “bread from heaven,” and their implied critique of Jesus is, “What can you do that compares with such an amazing miracle?” Jesus points them to the greater miracle he will work in behalf of God’s people. Rather than giving his people bread that feeds them in the moment but eventually allows their hunger to return, God—in his son Jesus—has become for his people the Bread of Life from heaven so that they may never hunger again (John 6:32–41). What miracle could be greater than the provision of manna in the desert? Jesus, the God-Man, gives himself so that all who participate in him and his sacrifice will find eternal life in fellowship with God—something that the exodus generation could only dream of. “Bread from heaven” takes on a whole new meaning in the sacrificial work of Christ—a new meaning that we celebrate every time we take the Lord’s Supper in an act of remembrance of the type encouraged in Psalm 78.
A holy God and the question of presence. One of the other classic Old Testament questions that Psalm 78 brings to the fore poses the problem of how an absolutely holy God can dwell in the midst of a people who are anything but holy. This tension begins in Genesis 3 with the first sin of humankind and is expressed in different ways throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Adam and Eve were distanced from the presence of God by being removed from the garden. Cain is forced to wander farther away from the garden following his act of fratricide. We see the same problem throughout the many generations of Israel’s relationship with God as it is recorded in the Old Testament. How can a God who tolerates no sin maintain relationship with a sinful people? How can God dwell among humankind?
This thorny issue is one that reaches resolution only in the incarnation of Christ. In John 1:14 we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The tension of the holy God’s dwelling in the midst of the unholy is resolved when God himself takes on human form. First, in the physical incarnation of Jesus for the thirty-three years of his life on earth, God literally lived in the midst of sinful humanity. So on one level that tension is resolved in the incorporation of perfect humanity and divinity in the same living being—Jesus of Nazareth. Second, of course, the incarnation was not an end in itself—rather, it was the means by which Jesus the Messiah could secure salvation and restoration of relationship with God for all who believe in him. In taking human form and paying the price for human sin, Jesus offers everyone who has come to faith in him the possibility of complete cleansing and therefore restoration of relationship with the God who is pure. The need for holy places and priests to act as intermediaries and sacrifices to take away sin has been removed entirely through the work of Christ. Cleansing is secured in his perfect act of sacrifice, so the problem of presence is removed. Sin still distances one from God, but the cleansing made available through the sacrifice of Jesus enables us to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:5–2:2).
Contemporary Significance
PROPER PERSPECTIVE ON THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP. Psalm 78:18 reminds us of an example not to be followed—the willful rebellion of the children of Israel in the desert. The psalmist picks up on the imagery of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11 to remind his generation not to follow this example of stubborn rejection. The great irony that we see in the behavior of the wilderness generation is how they idealized their previous life. With miraculous displays of awesome power, Yahweh had just brought people out of Egypt and was in the process of leading them through the desert to a new and promised land of bounty. God had freed them from slave labor, from ethnic oppression, and from the tyranny of a genocidal dictator. Yet in these desert months, how did Israel come to think about their time in Egypt? Numbers 11:4–6 tells us:
The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”
Thoughts of violence and suffering have made way for reminiscences about cucumbers, melons, and garlic. Since God had only provided them with miracle bread to eat in the desert, the people had become upset! They wanted meat to go along with this bread that had been so amazingly provided. In their discontent, Israel’s perspective had become totally skewed. They failed to see the miracle of the provision of manna in a place where there would be no food for them otherwise. They failed to remember the extremes of suffering they faced while in Egypt. For the people at that time, and for reasons that are difficult for us to discern from our historical perspective, the perceived cost and sacrifice of following Yahweh had become too great. They longed to return to the life they had before.
Christians living in the twenty-first century should not be too quick to shake our heads at the fickleness of the exodus generation, for we often fall prey to exactly the same tendencies. For a generation in which Christianity is becoming increasingly marginalized in the Western world, it is easy to look at the license and permissiveness of the world in which we live and to say, “It’s too hard to be a Christian! I want to go back to the life I had before!”
We can all face this tendency on the journey that is the Christian life of faith. Sometimes the cost of being different just seems too high. Sometimes we feel that God is asking too much of us. Sometimes we just get tired of fighting with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is at these times that we start to idealize a “normal” life—a life without the costs of faith. Just as the exodus generation lost their grip on the reality of what life was like before they started to walk with Yahweh, so we too can glamorize or idealize our past lives, thus making them seem to be a better option than they ever really were.
On days such as these, we need to follow the advice of the author of Psalm 78 by remembering the true nature of the God we worship. As we think about the God of grace and all that he has done for us in his Son, our perspectives are transformed. As we meditate on the true character of God, as we consider the self-sacrifice of Christ, as we recall the indwelling presence of God the Holy Spirit in our hearts, our perspectives on life now and life before are transformed. On days such as these, we too need to “put [our] trust in God, . . . not forget his deeds, . . . [and] keep his commands” (v. 7).
Functionality and reality. In Psalm 78:32–39 it becomes apparent that the people believe they can manipulate God. Somehow they think they can get what they want out of God without actually upholding their responsibilities within the covenantal relationship. They would remember that “God was their Rock” and “Redeemer” and “flatter him with their mouths” (vv. 35–36), but “their hearts were not loyal to him, they were not faithful to his covenant” (v. 37). In any form of organized religion, it is always a danger for worship to become all about the worshiper rather than the object of worship, and we are not immune from this danger within the Christian church. Given our fundamentally selfish human nature, it is very easy for worship to become more about what we can get out of God than it is about what we offer to him. Our prayers become shopping lists, and we demand that God fulfill his obligations toward us. It is often easy to forget that God is . . . God! He is all-powerful and more than slightly terrifying. (Notice how human beings become terrified when confronted by any sort of manifestation of the real presence of God [e.g., Isa 6:5; Mark 9:5–6 et al.]).
The challenge, once again, is to think properly as we worship God. Psalm 78 makes it clear that remembrance is the key to right relationship with him. As we worship, we must always remember that God is the one who is worthy of praise. We must remember all that he has done for us. We must be aware of human frailty and the offense we often cause. We must also ponder his great character, his awe-inspiring love, and the immeasurable grace God shows to us day by day. It is in remembering who God is and who we are that we are protected from falling into a relationship with God that is purely functional (what we can get out of God) rather than a relationship that rejoices in the reality of loving God and being loved by him.
HALOT 2:1329.