1 Answer me when I call to you,
my righteous God.
Give me relief from my distress;
have mercy on me and hear my prayer.
2 How long will you people turn my glory into shame?
3 Know that the Lord has set apart his faithful servant for himself;
the Lord hears when I call to him.
4 Tremble and[d] do not sin;
when you are on your beds,
search your hearts and be silent.
5 Offer the sacrifices of the righteous
and trust in the Lord.
6 Many, Lord, are asking, “Who will bring us prosperity?”
Let the light of your face shine on us. Psalm 4
What every last breathing soul wants is to be blessed, everyone—red and yellow, black and white; rich and poor; urban or rural cowboy; all genders; all creeds (and none); mass murderers and untrammeled saints—all of us want to be happy.
David’s characterization of the cry of “the many” here in verse 6 of Psalm 4 is thus perfectly understandable. He’s right. The questions we’re all asking are “Who can bring some joy into my life? Who can turn my mourning into dancing? How can I be blessed?”
Relative degrees of prosperity mean nothing. Those of us who live in the affluent West often suffer more emotional woes than those whose lives are at or below the poverty level. Which is not to say, of course, that the poor don’t plead the same question--which is, really, “who will help us?”
Even though the question David brings to our consideration is the question we all know, what he mean seems up for grabs. Spurgeon sees in David’s characterization an implied criticism of the wicked; they’re rapaciously sinful appetites are constantly a-whoring, chasing ill-fated images of happiness. But Spurgeon was "of his time," and his propensity for drawing lines between us and them is legendary. Years later, at least to me, drawing those deep lines is a tougher job than he ever found it to be.
I’m not sure David is lambasting the wayward in verse six. What we’ve just come from in this very strange little psalm is a promise sympathetically offered to sinners. “Here are the things you all should do,” David says, and then lays out his own 1000 BC 12-step program. He’s concerned. He wants their blessedness.
Furthermore, at the end of verse six he uses the collective pronoun us; it seems to me that what David is saying about people is meant to be about us, not just them. We all want somebody or something to "show us good."
I may be wrong, but I’d like to read this verse as penitence, not preaching. That kind of reading at least brings some greater unity to the song. This odd little psalm began with a short but deeply felt request to God to be heard (vs. 1). Then, it turns to sinners and howls (“how long. . .”), but that tone subsides into a warmly offered how-to, a description of the means by which those far, far away from God can draw themselves closer.
In verse six—like verse one—David once again talks to the Lord, and I’d like to think he’s pointing at those who’ve listened to his little sermon. As he’s pointing, he’s asking God for the blessed warmth of his face on them, and on us, on all of us, asking to be blessed with blessedness.
I’d like to think that this isn’t a Psalm that shoves unbelievers into the fires of hell, but puts in a good word for those folk, who are just as affected as we all are with wanting to be blessed.
Shine your love on us, Lord, he seems to me to be saying. We’re all lookin’ for love in all the wrong places.
David’s characterization of the cry of “the many” here in verse 6 of Psalm 4 is thus perfectly understandable. He’s right. The questions we’re all asking are “Who can bring some joy into my life? Who can turn my mourning into dancing? How can I be blessed?”
Relative degrees of prosperity mean nothing. Those of us who live in the affluent West often suffer more emotional woes than those whose lives are at or below the poverty level. Which is not to say, of course, that the poor don’t plead the same question--which is, really, “who will help us?”
Even though the question David brings to our consideration is the question we all know, what he mean seems up for grabs. Spurgeon sees in David’s characterization an implied criticism of the wicked; they’re rapaciously sinful appetites are constantly a-whoring, chasing ill-fated images of happiness. But Spurgeon was "of his time," and his propensity for drawing lines between us and them is legendary. Years later, at least to me, drawing those deep lines is a tougher job than he ever found it to be.
I’m not sure David is lambasting the wayward in verse six. What we’ve just come from in this very strange little psalm is a promise sympathetically offered to sinners. “Here are the things you all should do,” David says, and then lays out his own 1000 BC 12-step program. He’s concerned. He wants their blessedness.
Furthermore, at the end of verse six he uses the collective pronoun us; it seems to me that what David is saying about people is meant to be about us, not just them. We all want somebody or something to "show us good."
I may be wrong, but I’d like to read this verse as penitence, not preaching. That kind of reading at least brings some greater unity to the song. This odd little psalm began with a short but deeply felt request to God to be heard (vs. 1). Then, it turns to sinners and howls (“how long. . .”), but that tone subsides into a warmly offered how-to, a description of the means by which those far, far away from God can draw themselves closer.
In verse six—like verse one—David once again talks to the Lord, and I’d like to think he’s pointing at those who’ve listened to his little sermon. As he’s pointing, he’s asking God for the blessed warmth of his face on them, and on us, on all of us, asking to be blessed with blessedness.
I’d like to think that this isn’t a Psalm that shoves unbelievers into the fires of hell, but puts in a good word for those folk, who are just as affected as we all are with wanting to be blessed.
Shine your love on us, Lord, he seems to me to be saying. We’re all lookin’ for love in all the wrong places.
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