Original Meaning
The Heading (89:0)
PSALM 89 IS DESCRIBED AS A MASKIL
of Ethan the Ezrahite. The description maskil gives a wisdom-based, contemplative overtone to the composition. It is a song—and a subject matter—that requires meditation. It is a poem that asks hard questions without providing easy answers; therefore, the reader is obliged to pay careful attention to the deliberations that follow. This psalm is one of only two psalms written by an Ezrahite. Psalm 89 is associated with Ethan the Ezrahite, and the preceding psalm with Heman the Ezrahite.2
It is not coincidental that these neighboring psalms are powerfully significant because of their content of forceful lament. Psalm 88 is the darkest of the individual laments that we find in the Psalter, whereas Psalm 89 is one of the most challenging community laments in the book of Psalms. The juxtaposition of these psalms illustrates that both the individual and the community feel compelled to voice their complaints against God—a pattern we also find at the beginning of Book 3, where Asaph’s individual lament in Psalm 73 is followed by the people’s cry of despair over the destruction of the temple in Psalm 74. Each of the laments that begin Book 3 find an answer. Asaph discovers the answer to his complaint when he meets with God in the temple (see the discussion of Ps 73 above). The answer for the despairing people of Psalm 74 follows in the succeeding Psalm 75, where God assures them that his judgment will happen when the time is right and his justice will be worked out once and for all. So, the opening laments of Book 3 are met with answers, but what about Psalm 89? Is there an answer to follow the people’s complaint about the loss of the Davidic line? Perhaps, but that answer is not to be found in Book 3 itself, so we will have to return to this question in our consideration of Psalm 90.
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
Original Meaning
The God of Covenant (89:1–4)
I WILL SING OF THE LORD’S GREAT LOVE FOREVER. Psalm 89 begins with a voice of personal praise and covenantal confidence. The Hebrew text draws attention to the object of the sentence: “Of Yahweh’s great love [hesed] I will sing forever!” The immediate focus of the psalm is on the covenantal love of Yahweh and his faithfulness to his people. The psalmist begins with a confident outpouring of praise to God because of his devoted love and faithfulness to the community of faith. The poet’s confidence is so great that he is determined to make this declaration of divine faithfulness to each succeeding generation (v. 1b). The irony, of course, is that this very point comes into question in the latter stages of Psalm 89 (v. 49), but we will return to this tension when we come to that section of the psalm. The opening voice of this poem is one of confident praise—God is a God of steadfast love and faithfulness. Surely he will never fail his people!
You said, “I have made a covenant with my chosen one.” The root of this great and confident celebration is to be found in the promise of God to David (vv. 3–4). Yahweh himself had spoken his decree that a king in the line of David would rule throughout all the ages, and this promise filled the poet with a great sense of assurance. The thing to remember here is that this promise was not just an indication of privilege for a particular family; it was the guarantee of God’s ordaining authority over the whole earth. God had promised peace for Israel through the governance of David and his line (2 Sam 7:8–11). This promise came to be read as the assurance of Yahweh’s rule over the whole earth mediated through his appointed line of kings from David’s line. This type of ideology is seen clearly in the Psalter in some of the royal psalms, such as Psalms 2, 18, 72, and 110. So, from the poet’s perspective, Yahweh’s invisible rule over the whole of the earth and humankind was, in a sense, “incarnated” through the line of the sons of David. Their political rule was the visible symbol of Yahweh’s absolute governance over the whole earth. Herein lies the root of the poet’s confident joy: God’s king reigns in Jerusalem as the visible confirmation of the fact that God is in control over all of the events of humanity, including the events of his own life and those of the nation to which he belongs.3
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
Original Meaning
The Created Order Declares Yahweh’s Praise (89:5–18)
THE HEAVENS PRAISE YOUR WONDERS, LORD. The next major section of Psalm 89 focuses on Yahweh’s great and awesome rule over the whole of the created order. Israel’s God is sovereign in the heavens (vv. 6–7), over the seas (vv. 9–10), and over the whole earth (v. 11). As far as the poet is concerned, there can be absolutely no doubt about God’s majestic rule over the whole of the created order.
Your faithfulness too, in the assembly of the holy ones. Once again, the focus of attention is drawn to one particular characteristic of God’s being, namely, his faithfulness (v. 5b). The psalmist is absolutely confident of the fact that God will be 100 percent true to the promises he makes. For the author, this faithfulness is an absolutely non-negotiable characteristic of Yahweh’s identity and, just as the heavens praise God for all of his wondrous works (e.g., creation itself), so they also celebrate his steadfastness in the divine assembly. It is interesting that the psalmist comes back to this particular feature of Yahweh’s being time and time again in Psalm 89 (e.g., vv. 1, 2, 5, 8, 14 et al.). His focus on God’s faithfulness in the early part of this psalm stands as a fascinating counterpoint to his troubled lament in the latter stages of this composition (vv. 38–51).4
For who in the skies above can compare with the LORD? Verses 5–8 take the reader into the realm of the metaphorical “heavenly council.” As in Psalm 82, the psalmist asks questions that modern readers take to be rhetorical: “For who in the skies above can compare with the LORD? Who is like the LORD among the heavenly beings?” But for the original readers of Psalm 89, these questions would have been genuine calls to make comparisons. The imagery, common throughout the psalms, is of a notional parliament of gods in the heavens where it must be universally acknowledged that Israel’s God, Yahweh, is the only true God over all creation. None can compare to his greatness and awesome power (v. 7); neither are any of these “competing” gods comparable in terms of character (v. 8). The implication of verse 8 is that Yahweh can be trusted implicitly (“your faithfulness surrounds you”), whereas the other gods of the ancient world are capricious and changeable. Again, this implication is key to the prayer of lament that supplements these opening verses of praise.5
You rule over the surging sea. Verses 9–10 speak to God’s control over all the powers of chaos in the created order. The seas and waters in the ancient world were viewed as the most uncontrollable of all of the forces of the natural order. In other ancient Near Eastern creation accounts, the earth is often presented as coming into being as a byproduct of a cosmic conflict between the high god (sometimes called ’el) and the forces of chaos personified as a sea god or goddess.6
The language of “sea . . . waves” (and so on) became shorthand for all that is powerful, terrifying, chaotic, and fear-inducing in creation.7
Once again, however, the psalmist knows that his God is more powerful even than the most chaotic force imaginable. So God is faithful to his promises, and God is powerful over chaos. The poet is painting a picture that speaks to his concluding plea.
The heavens are yours, and yours also the earth. The tripartite imagery in these verses is completed in verses 11–13, where the poet also declares Yahweh’s sovereign power (symbolized by the language of his “arm,” “hand,” and “right hand”) over the whole earth, as well as the heavens and the sea. God’s sovereign rule is asserted through the language of possession. Just as the heavens belong to Yahweh (vv. 5–8), so the earth is his also. As Owner he is also Ruler, implies the psalmist.8
These verses also point to the universality of Yahweh’s rule over the earth. North, south, Tabor, and Herman may indicate the four points of the compass9
but could equally refer to the sites of pagan shrines, thus implying “the subordination of their deities to God.”10
The language of “founding” or “establishing” the earth (v. 11) speaks once again about Yahweh’s control over the whole of creation but also about his faithfulness. An established earth is a place of peace and security—such is the world order that God has created, and this order is another sign of his faithfulness to his people.
Your arm is endowed with power. This section closes with a confident statement regarding Yahweh’s absolute power over everything in his creation. The metaphors of “arm,” “hand,” and “right hand” do not simply speak about God’s power in the abstract. Instead, these metaphors commonly refer to God’s ability to work out his purposes in the historical reality of his people.11
The convictions of the poet are univocal: as Creator, Yahweh is capable of doing all things in behalf of his people.
Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne. Just as God’s might and rule are unquestionable, so also is his character. Verse 14 uses the language of covenant, the concept that is so central to this poem. “Righteousness” (tsedeq), “justice” (mishpat), “love” (hesed), and “faithfulness” (’emet) are all key components of the covenantal relationship between Yahweh and his people and, more significantly in terms of this psalm, key components of the relationship between Yahweh and David. As the symbol of Yahweh’s authority, his throne is characterized by righteousness and justice—precisely what was expected of the kings in David’s line (Ps 72:2). As is Yahweh’s rule, so should be the rule of his chosen leaders. Could there be an underlying critique of the human rule by David’s line here? The poet tells the reader clearly what characterizes Yahweh’s throne. In doing so it is quite possible that he also presents an implied criticism of the human kingship that was meant to echo Yahweh’s ruling style.
Love and faithfulness go before you. Again, the poet calls to mind the character of God’s being. He is a God of steadfast love and faithfulness (an echo of the opening verse of the psalm). Given the lament over the loss of the Davidic king that follows in verses 39–51, it is perhaps not surprising that the psalmist needs to keep reminding himself and his hearers of the basics of Yahweh’s character. Fundamentally, he is a God of love and faithfulness regardless of how things may appear at any given point in human history. So inherent are these features to Yahweh’s being that they are personified here as royal pages preceding his coming and announcing his true nature. Israel’s God cannot be separated from love and faithfulness. The psalmist knows that he must remind himself and his hearers of this fact.
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you. The truth of God’s character and covenantal faithfulness (vv. 1–4, 14) and the truth of his sovereign rule over all creation (vv. 5–13) can lead to only one proper response from any created person: worship (vv. 15–16). The beatitude “blessed” (’ashre) implies a lifestyle of true happiness (see comments on Ps 84:4). It is as we respond to God’s character and works by worshiping him that human beings find the essence of happiness in their lives. In learning to acclaim God, men and women find fulfillment (see further discussion under Contemporary Significance).
For you are their glory and strength. Again, rooted in the idea of covenant, the psalmist celebrates the exalted status enjoyed by Israel as a result of their relationship with Yahweh. More literally this line reads, “For you are the grandeur of their strength,”12
and the implication is that Israel delights in strength and status beyond what is natural to them precisely because of Yahweh’s association with them. The following reference to the lifting up of Israel’s horn emphasizes this point. The “horn” is the symbol of strength and power, and whatever strength Israel has is in accordance with Yahweh’s favor.
Indeed, our shield belongs to the LORD, our king to the Holy One of Israel. The second line of Psalm 89:18 elucidates the first. Just as the nation belongs to Yahweh, so does its king. The kings of Israel had no might or grandeur in their own right—they were vicegerents of Yahweh’s ultimate kingship. In that sense, the king’s primary duty was always to Yahweh and secondarily to the people. Just as ownership of the earth implies sovereignty over it (v. 11), so in verse 18 does God’s ownership of the Davidic line imply his sovereignty over the human kings of Israel. The idea of vicegerency is seen also in verse 18a’s description of the king. He is Israel’s “shield,” yet the people know who their ultimate shield is (Ps 84:11). Just as Yahweh is a shield and refuge for the people, so should the king be. The human office of kingship in Israel is meant to reflect the activities of Yahweh in his rule over Israel (see comments on Ps 89:14 above). A criticism of the kings of Israel may be implied here: Have the kings of Israel forgotten their owner and the obligation they bear to reflect his character and activity in their ruling over the people?
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
Original Meaning
Calling to Mind the Covenant with David (89:19–37)
PSALM 89:19–37 RECALLS IN POETIC FORM the covenant made between God and David as king of Israel (see 2 Sam 7; 1 Chr 17). In the development of the covenants in the Old Testament, the promise to David brings a new chapter to the people of God. It reflects a new reality for Israel as a settled nation-state resident in the land. New structures have come into place for the governance of the people under God’s hand, and part of that divinely instituted reorganization involves the intermediation of a king between the people and their God. The inception of that arrangement is recounted in these verses in stylized form. The essence of Yahweh’s promise to David is repeated as a reminder to God himself and to the psalm’s hearers. From the psalmist’s perspective, the very fact that God has made a promise must be worth something.
Once you spoke in a vision, to your faithful people you said. Psalm 89:19a stands alone as an introductory formula to the account of the Davidic covenant that follows. The idea of Yahweh’s speaking in a vision is probably meant to be deliberately reminiscent of 2 Samuel 7, according to which God spoke to David via a vision given to the prophet Nathan. The idea of Yahweh’s speaking is always a profound one in the Old Testament, where there is the absolute expectation that what God speaks will be done. So, this introductory formula highlights the sense of expectation inherent to Israel’s understanding of the Davidic covenant.
I have bestowed strength on a warrior. The first stanza of this account of the Davidic covenant focuses on David as a warrior. The psalmic representation of the covenantal promise focuses on the fact that David, as king of Israel, would neither be defeated by those who would attack the nation (vv. 22–23) or thwarted by those nations that he would attack (v. 25).13
Given the lament that follows, it is perhaps not surprising that Psalm 89’s presentation of the covenant centers on David as a warrior. According to the psalm, David is chosen to lead the people to military security under God’s hand. Of course, this picture is not a full and complete representation of the covenant as it is recorded in 2 Samuel 7, but this ensured security is a key feature of Yahweh’s contract with the kings of Israel. Due to God’s promise to David, the nation of Israel was meant to be secure; therefore, if this psalm is a response to the fall of Jerusalem and the loss of the Davidic line (as is likely), it is hardly surprising that the psalmist focuses on the promise of national stability.
Through my name his horn will be exalted. Here in Psalm 89:24b we see a reflection of the promise to the people in the promise to the king (see v. 17). Yahweh provides strength for the people beyond their status, and he does just the same for their king. This provision reflects the closely interwoven structures of the covenantal relationship between God, people, and human ruler. God promises blessing to the people through the king. As the king is blessed, so the people are blessed. When the king is faithful, the people walk in faithfulness. As God’s rule is righteous and just, so the king’s governance must be, and in this way the people are blessed. Yahweh’s covenant with the king has the people in mind—it does not just privilege David and his family apart from a larger goal. The purpose of the covenant is the blessing of the people and the blessing of the nations through the people (see the discussion of Ps 87).
He will call out to me, “You are my Father, my God, the Rock my Savior.” This verse further develops the privileged position of the Davidic king in the divine economy. The imperfect verb (qara’) is probably better translated transitively, that is, without the indirect object “to me.” This omission gives a slightly more nuanced reading, “He will call me [saying], ‘You are my Father, my God, the Rock of my salvation.’ ”14
This address shows the privilege of direct, forthright, and honest relationship between David and his God.15
Contemporary readers may be uncomfortable with the idea of summoning God, but as Goldingay points out, “To summon Yahweh to our help is not a peremptory act if it is the summons that Yahweh invites.”16
This reference to David’s God-given ability to call out to Yahweh shows the depth of covenantal relationship. The Old Testament notion of covenant is neither formal nor theoretical—it bears real depth and makes a real difference in the life of the covenantal participant.
I will appoint him to be my firstborn. The second aspect of the promise to David is that of a continuous line of successors to perpetuate the monarchic dynasty (vv. 27–29). There is a sense in which the divine promise assures David of the steadfast love of God, and that love for David extends beyond him to his heirs in perpetuity (v. 28). Along with security, the covenantal promise of 2 Samuel 7 guarantees a royal line forever. But both issues are questioned in the lament that follows.
If his sons forsake my law. Following this discussion of security for the nation and a line for David is a caveat (vv. 30–37): What happens if David’s heirs do not love Yahweh in the manner that he did? Clearly, covenantal election can never be an excuse for license. This truth applied to Israel (Deut 28) and also to the Davidic dynasty (Ps 89:32). God will not be mocked by the kings who follow in David’s footsteps, and we know from the historical books of the Old Testament that many of those kings did, in a wholesale and reprehensible manner, fully reject the love of the Lord. Yet it is interesting to note that, of the eight verses which discuss this question of wayward heirs to the promise, only a single verse (v. 32) actually deals with punishment as a response. The rest of this strophe focuses on the promise of God’s continuing love for David, expressed by way of God’s continuing grace toward his ancestral line (vv. 33–37). This divine grace continues because the issue at stake is not the obedience of the Davidic kings. The issue at stake is, instead, the faithfulness of God to his promise. Observe the language used in these verses:
But I will not take my love from him,
nor will I ever betray my faithfulness.
I will not violate my covenant
or alter what my lips have uttered.
Once for all, I have sworn by my holiness—
and I will not lie to David. (Ps 89:33–35)
These verses show clearly the passion and seriousness with which the Creator God enters into covenantal relationship with his servant David. God’s covenant is based on his sovereign choice. Once it is made, the ramifications of that promise are more far reaching than finite human minds can ever fathom. God’s faithfulness to the promise he made to David could not be thwarted even by the unfaithfulness of David’s heirs. Yahweh’s love for David, the psalmist tells us, far outweighed the subsequent kings’ lack of love for Yahweh. Yet here a tension arises: If God is absolutely faithful to his promise, then why has the Davidic line ceased to exist, as the psalmist acknowledges it has? In these verses the psalmist has praised the unquestionable faithfulness of Yahweh. He now goes on to question that very faithfulness in his prayer of lament (vv. 38–51).
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
Original Meaning
The Faithfulness of God Questioned (89:38–51)
BUT YOU HAVE REJECTED, YOU HAVE SPURNED. The change in tone could not be more marked. Having just recounted the unchangeable promise of God, the psalmist pours out his heartfelt complaint in prayer to God. As readers, we need to feel the passion of the poet’s prayer born out of the confusion that comes from a present reality that does not match his beliefs. The sure promise of God was for a continuous line of kings descended from David:
[T]hat his line will continue forever
and his throne will endure before me like the sun;
it will be established forever like the moon,
the faithful witness in the sky. (Ps 89:36–37)
The psalmist believed this promise, but he now faces a historical reality that contradicts his beliefs. In that confusion he cries out in verses 38–39:
But you have rejected, you have spurned,
you have been very angry with your anointed one.
You have renounced the covenant with your servant
and have defiled his crown in the dust.
We should read these verses with the same tone of shocked surprise that was undoubtedly voiced by the poet. “But you have rejected, you have spurned” (emphasis added). The inconceivable has happened, and the author is rocked to his very core. Lament is described by Craig Broyles as being “the conflict of faith and experience,” and this conflict is precisely the experience voiced in verses 38–51.17
You have broken through all his walls. The promise of security (v. 22) has been dashed by the humiliation of military defeat (vv. 40–41). The promise of divine strength (v. 21) seems to have been transferred to his enemies (v. 42). The promise of an eternal line of descendants (vv. 27–29) has been brought to a crushing end in real time (vv. 44–45). The once exalted status of the anointed one (mashiah) of Yahweh (v. 20) has been rejected and cast down to the very dust of the earth (vv. 39, 44–45). How is the poet, how are the people, to make sense of all these disasters? The firm belief in the faithfulness of Yahweh on the one hand (vv. 1–37) has collided horribly with their present experience on the other (vv. 39–51). The psalmist’s prayer tries to make sense of the ensuing theological train wreck.
How long, LORD? The very essence of lament is found in these words that we see repeated so often throughout the Psalms.18
The exclamation “How long?” seeks an end to the conflict of faith and experience. The psalmist is looking for reconciliation between his theology and the present circumstances that do not match his beliefs. Geoffrey Grogan comments:
The psalm’s whole burden is concentrated into a cry of bewildered agony. “How long?” is often asked in the Psalms (see esp. 13:1). Life is short, but God’s promises are long-lasting. How is it then that this covenant promise has apparently failed? The shame of defeat and the king’s exile have involved others, the psalmist included, and he concludes with the word translated “anointed one,” a poignant reminder of the Davidic covenant. Where, though, is the promise undergirding it now?19
So goes the thrust of the remainder of Psalm 89. It all boils down to the essential question in verse 49: “Lord, where is your former great love, which in your faithfulness you swore to David?” The poet simply cannot comprehend how the God of faithfulness whom he worships could possibly have turned his back on the promises made to his servant David. Yes, the poet was fully aware that kings could and would be rebuked if they rejected Yahweh (v. 32). But such rebuke was never going to affect the perpetuity of the kingly line (vv. 33, 36). Yet here the psalmist stands contemplating the broken city walls of Jerusalem, a defiled temple, and an empty throne. It is clear that the psalmist cannot make sense of this incongruity, and the only conceivable response is to offer this brutally honest prayer. He calls on Yahweh to remember (vv. 47, 50)—to remember the brevity of human experience and to remember the king. There is a real sense in which the psalmist pours out all the angst that results from his human fallibility and lack of comprehension. There is no way for him to reconcile his understanding of God’s nature with his historical experience. With that lack of understanding comes prayer, for he believes that it is only in relationship with Yahweh that he can make sense of all the theological incongruities of life.20
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
Original Meaning
The Final Doxology (89:52)
PRAISE BE TO THE LORD FOREVER! AMEN AND AMEN. So, the core content of the psalm finishes with the words “your anointed one.” Clearly, the poet is calling on Yahweh to remember the covenant with David and to restore the monarchy to Jerusalem. But what is the effect of this concluding doxology in verse 52?
Most scholars accept that the doxologies found at the end of each of the books of the Psalter (Pss 41:13; 72:19–20; 89:52; 106:48; 146–50) function as editorial signs that indicate the conclusion of each of the books of the book of Psalms.21
It is not absolutely clear why the editors who put the Psalter together as a collection wanted to divide the overall canonical book into smaller books, but it is broadly accepted that they used these doxologies to indicate the close of one book and, by implication, the beginning of the next. So, there is a sense in which Psalm 89:52 applies to the whole of Book 3 of the Psalms, thus concluding the collection that is Psalms 73–89.
But it is equally inescapable that this verse is added to the end of Psalm 89 as a part of the poem itself, so verse 52 has an influence on this psalm as well as concluding the book as a whole. The editors must have been aware of what they were doing in adding this voice of praise at the end of the lament in verses 38–51. Knut Heim argues that the postscript anticipates divine intervention along the lines of the prayer offered. He sees verse 52 as a statement of faith that the psalmist’s prayer has been heard and will be answered.22
John Goldingay, on the other hand, sees a more nuanced effect of this verse upon the psalm as a whole. He argues that the coda “reminds us of the daring profession of faith that the Psalter as a whole makes.”23
There is no resolution implied in verse 52. It does not change or deny the paradox voiced in the lament; rather, as with every lament, this verse simply acknowledges the dichotomy. The psalmist cannot understand how God is being faithful to his promise, and he says as much. But he realizes that resolution—whatever form it may take—is only to be found in a relationship of faith in Yahweh, so he declares that blessing of praise on Yahweh forever.
Psalm 89 and Book 3 close with an expression of Yahweh’s inestimable worth despite the psalmist’s continued confusion over a historical reality that conflicts with his beliefs. The doxology reminds the reader that God is worthy even when his people are conflicted in their experience of him.
Bridging Contexts
POSITION OF PSALM 89 IN THE PSALTER. It is broadly acknowledged that Psalm 89 lies at a significant juncture within the book of Psalms and contributes to the overall flow of the book’s “narrative.” Gerald Wilson was influential in formulating this theory, and his ideas have since attained broad acceptance among scholars of the Psalter.24
Wilson argued that royal psalms have been placed at significant junctures throughout the book of Psalms, and that the placement of these psalms tells a “narrative” of the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy.25
According to Wilson, Psalm 2 gets the ball rolling with a celebration of kingship in this Enthronement Psalm. Although Psalm 2 does not bear an “of David” superscription, the poem is similar in tone and content to the Davidic royal psalms of Books 1–3. The next major juncture in the Psalter actually comes at the seam of Books 2 and 3 where we find the only postscript in the Psalms (Ps 72:20). According to Wilson, this postscript suggests the end of “the prayers of David son of Jesse” and groups Books 1 and 2 together (Pss 2–72).
So, the psalmic narrative moves from inception in Psalm 2 to continuation in Psalm 72. It is possible that Psalm 72 is meant to be read as David’s prayer for Solomon as the royal line promised by Yahweh is continued through his descendants. If this view is correct, then David prays for his son’s reign to be marked by the same righteousness and justice that characterizes Yahweh’s rule (Ps 72:1–2; cf. Ps 89:14). Psalm 72 creates an expectation of the kind of kingship that should typify the rule of David’s progeny; societal justice (vv. 1–4, 12–14) and worship of Yahweh (vv. 18–20) should characterize the rule of David’s son. Book 3 of the Psalter, however, makes it clear that God’s people and God’s rulers all too often did not follow in his ways and so bore the consequences of their actions. As reflected in the covenantal blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28, Israel was warned that if they consistently rejected Yahweh and his ways they would inevitably face punishment, and the punishment would culminate in exile. Exile is, in many ways, the subject matter of Book 3 of the Psalter as it focuses on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74), the temple (Ps 76), and ultimately the king (as we have seen here in our study of Ps 89).
So, Wilson argues, Books 1–3 of the Psalter chart the rise and fall of the Davidic line of kings—inauguration in Psalm 2 and continuation in Psalm 72 are finally countered by the demise of the monarchy in Psalm 89. The hope and promise that arose out of Yahweh’s covenant with David have been spoiled by his sons’ rejection of a lifestyle that should have been characterized by adherence to the instruction of Yahweh as an example for the people (Deut 17:14–20).26
The promise to David was meant to bring hope to the people, but the constant rejection of justice and righteousness by Judah’s kings robbed both ruler and nation of the security promised by God and left them open to his punishment. So, the psalms at the seams of Books 1–3 present the story of the failure of human kingship. Book 4 brings a renewed focus on the kingship of Yahweh, but the Davidic king is not lost from the voice of the Psalter. The figure of David will return in Book 4, but the presentation of human kingship will be quite different from what we have read here in Psalm 89 and in Books 1–3 in general.
Changing symbols. As well as being significant because of its importance within the canonical Psalter, Psalm 89 represents a culmination in terms of the reconsideration of Israel’s major symbols of national identity. Book 3 has already focused on the loss of the city of Jerusalem (Ps 74) and the temple (Ps 76) before contemplating the significance of the demise of the Davidic monarchy here in Psalm 89. Jerusalem (Zion), temple, and king were all significant symbols of Yahweh’s various promises to Israel—assurances of his protection, presence, and governance. But in Psalm 89 the psalmist has to confront the reality of the loss of the monarchy, just as other poets confront the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. In each case, the people probably believed in a permanent promise that these special symbols would continue forever, and in the postexilic period they attempted to make sense of their removal. In order to understand how they could do so, we have to take the long view of God’s plan for the salvation of humankind.
The original call and election of Abraham, the father of Israel, in Genesis 12:1–3 presents that choice as part of God’s plan to bless all the nations. That call—though clearly privileging Abraham and his descendants—was always intended to bring good to the whole of humankind, even those who were not directly part of Abraham’s line. This emphasis is repeated in the election of Israel and their call to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exod 19:5–6). Once again, Israel is Yahweh’s “treasured possession” (segullah), but their purpose is to be intermediaries (priests) between Yahweh and the other nations. This representative function is repeated prior to Israel’s entry into the land (Deut 4:1–14): Israel is meant to be a light to the nations to bring to them as well the blessing promised to Abraham. So, Israel is special in God’s eyes, but that unique place in his economy was always maintained with a particular end in mind, namely, the incorporation of the nations into God’s plan of blessing.27
We see throughout the Old Testament a constant struggle, first within the united kingdom of Israel and later within the southern kingdom of Judah, regarding the effects of election. Many within the ranks of ethnic Israel came to see their election as a simple end in itself, an end that set them apart from the nations in an absolute sense. The net effect of this way of thinking was a type of ethnic elitism whereby the people believed that the covenantal relationship with Yahweh made them qualitatively better than other nations. The external signs of the covenant with Yahweh—Zion, temple, and Davidic king—therefore became symbols of Israel’s ethnic superiority rather than evidences of God’s blessing for the purpose of being a blessing. The prophets often struggled with these skewed attitudes toward Jerusalem, the temple, and the Davidic king (e.g., see Jer 6–7). The signs of the covenant had become a talisman that many in Israel believed would protect them regardless of their actions and real relationship with Yahweh. The signs had replaced the essence of loving and obedient relationship with God.
So it was that God came to remove the external trappings of the covenant by means of the fall of Jerusalem and the exile. Having warned his people repeatedly that exile would be the tool in his hands to bring them back into right relationship with him, Yahweh finally allowed Jerusalem to fall to the Babylonians in 586 BCE. As we have seen from our study of the psalms of Book 3 of the Psalter, this event had a climactic impact on the people of God. The signs of city, sanctuary, and monarchy emblematized the promises God had made to his people, and their loss caused many to question the faithfulness of God, just as we have seen here in Psalm 89.
But it is important to remember that these symbols were merely signs of a far greater reality present in the relationship between God and his people. Jerusalem symbolized security for Israel, but the people were secure under God’s hand even given the events of the exile. The temple symbolized God’s presence, but he was just as much present with his people in exile in Babylon as he ever was in the temple during the morning and evening sacrifices. The Davidic king symbolized God’s control and governance over the nations, yet God controlled the armies of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Cyrus, king of Persia, regardless of whether or not a Davidide reigned on the throne in Jerusalem.
In forgetting the broader plan of bringing blessing to the nations and focusing on the trappings of election, Israel found the loss of these symbols almost unbearable. For God, however, the essence of covenantal relationship was more important. The removal of the symbols in no way changed his love for his people with all the practical ramifications that love brings. So, the loss of the Davidic king was tragic for the psalmist and caused him to question the very faithfulness of God. But God was looking to the essence of his promise: his rule over the earth administered through his servant, who is his son and anointed one (Ps 2). For the psalmist, that “son” had to be the Davidic king, but even throughout the reign of David and his line Yahweh was looking toward another Son, who was his Servant and Anointed One and through whom he would visibly establish his rule over all the earth. A greater spiritual reality lay behind the symbol.
So it is that the very physical symbols of the Old Testament are transformed into a greater spiritual reality in the New Testament. Israel as the elect is transformed into a multinational, multiethnic, multicultural church that still seeks to be a blessing to all the nations. The physicality of Jerusalem and the temple as the place of God’s presence is expanded in the new covenant to fill the whole earth (Rev 21–22). And the role of the Davidic king as the instrument of God’s purpose on the earth is radically transfigured by great David’s greater Son. As we see in Isaiah 55, God always had in mind a far greater reality for the line of David than his people at that time ever suspected.28
His promise to David encompassed a type of rule and governance beyond the wildest imagination of the author of Psalm 89. A “Son” of David continued on the throne throughout the exile, just as he had ruled before David’s birth. That this reality was, of course, far beyond the understanding of the author of Psalm 89 explains why he offered his lament to God. But in all these things—in the loss of important symbols and even in the suffering of his people—God was at work to fulfill a greater plan of blessing for Israel and for the nations. It would be several hundred years before that plan became visible to the people of God (Acts 1–4), hence the confusion of the psalmist. But that hope is exactly why the psalmist kept praying even in his confusion. He prayed to Yahweh because he knew that his God was faithful, even though he did not understand how. Symbols were being transformed, but the removal of the symbols paved the way for a far greater spiritual reality to be worked out in and through Jesus the Christ, “the son of David . . . the son of God” (Luke 3:31, 38).
Psalm 89 in the New Testament. The strongest resonances of Psalm 89 in the New Testament come in the book of Revelation. In Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This description resonates strongly with the words of the psalmist depicting David in Psalm 89:27 and the covenant in verse 37. The sun and moon serve as faithful witnesses to the covenant with David in Psalm 89; now Jesus shines out as the “faithful witness.” He is the “firstborn,” just as David was the firstborn of the line of Davidic kings. And Jesus is also the “ruler of the kings of the earth” in the same manner that David was granted that dominance by God for the outworking of his purposes on earth. John uses the language of Psalm 89 to make his point that Jesus is the promised Son of David, the one who brings a greater reality to the psalmic idea of the king as the instrument of God’s governance on earth. But the fact that Jesus is the “firstborn from the dead” reminds the reader that the exalted status of Jesus the Messiah came at great personal cost—exaltation and suffering are closely linked, thus drawing us back to the parallels between Psalm 89 and the suffering servant in Isaiah 55. Revelation 1:5 presents Jesus as the true King who fulfilled the Davidic role in a manner that neither David nor his sons were ever able to do.29
Contemporary Significance
WORSHIPING EVEN WHEN WE DO NOT FEEL LIKE IT. Several times throughout our consideration of the psalms in Book 3 (Pss 73–89), we have discussed the importance of practicing lament. Honest prayer is important to God, and well-intentioned, polite lies are pointless when we pray to the God who sees our hearts. But the apparently contradictory parts of Psalm 89 teach us an equally important spiritual lesson.
Over the years, scholars have struggled to hold together the tension that arises from the very different nature of the two sections of Psalm 89. The hymn of praise (vv. 1–37) is so very confident regarding the faithfulness of God that the vigor of the lament (vv. 38–51) catches the reader by surprise. Some interpreters have suggested that these were actually two (or possibly even three) completely different psalms that have been combined by a later editor as a poetic account of the origin, development, and demise of the monarchy.30
But this approach seems unnecessary as an explanation of the tensions found in Psalm 89, for these tensions are inherent to the life of faith.
The psalmist knew absolutely what he believed regarding the promises of God and the role of the Davidic king. He also knew what he had seen happen to the Davidic line. The tension was inescapable for all followers of Yahweh in the exilic and postexilic period, and the only possible response was one of prayerful honesty. “Here is what I believe about you and your promise, Lord, and here is what I see,” the poet prays. That the tension is unresolved but the prayer is still offered teaches us an important lesson in terms of our perspectives in praise, prayer, and worship.
God, quite simply, is bigger than we are! So we pray honestly and openly in accordance with the way we see things, but we pray also with the awareness that God is eternal and all-knowing, so what we think we know may be entirely wrong! Given the tone of the lament in verses 38–51, it seems reasonable to assume that the psalmist did not feel much like worshiping God, yet he chose to recite all that he knew about the faithfulness of God and his covenantal promise to David. This knowledge did not keep him from voicing his complaint, but neither did he allow his experience to become so overarching that he rejected his theology of God. There is a subtle indication in Psalm 89 that the poet has experienced God’s faithfulness in the past, so he has decided to declare that faithfulness despite his present confusion (vv. 1–2).
Herein lies an important lesson for us as contemporary believers—a lesson that is affirmed in Psalm 89 itself. Verses 15–17 give the basis for this idea of worshiping through our questions:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness.
For you are their glory and strength,
and by your favor you exalt our horn.
As mentioned above, the idea of “blessedness” here reflects the experience of true and deep human happiness. The poet reminds the reader that this happiness can only be found in the habitual practice of worship. As created human beings we only find our true meaning in the worship of the Creator. If God is good and made us in his image, then something deep within us yearns to worship him.
Often our experiences in life will leave us feeling disinclined to worship, but Psalm 89:15 paints the picture of “learning to acclaim God” (literally from the Hebrew, “who know the horn’s blast”). The image is one of participating in the public worship of Yahweh, thus answering the call to worship that, in the psalmist’s day, was made by the blowing of a horn.31
It is as we learn the worship of God that we are equipped to deal with the complexities and incongruities of life. In worship we are shaped and equipped to find our strength in God, even when we do not really understand what God is doing. This lesson is an important one for all of us to learn if we are to “walk in the light of his presence” and to find “our glory and strength” in God. Worship shapes who we are and how we see the world. Joining with the community of faith to offer praise to and to consider the character of our God and Savior equips us to face those experiences of life that leave us flummoxed. So, with the psalmist, we must remember that it is important to worship even when we do not really feel like it.
NIDOTTE 3:1083