“He summons the heavens above,
and
the earth, that he may judge his people:. . . “ Psalm 50:4
“Judgment begins at the house of
God,” Spurgeon says in his explanation of this verse of Psalm 50. “The trial of the visible people of God will
be a most awful ceremonial. He will
thoroughly purge his floor.”
If Charles Spurgeon is right, then, in this song of praise to the
righteous judge, God is cleaning house. “He will discern between his nominal
and his real people,” Spurgeon says, “and that in open court, the whole
universe looking on. My soul,” he asks—and not rhetorically, I don’t
believe—“when this actually takes place, how will it fare with thee? Canst thou endure the day of his coming?”
Hebrew verbs, I’m told, are
distressingly vague when it comes to tense, which makes this vision somewhat
ambiguous. Spurgeon thinks its reference is "the Last Judgment," as Michaelangelo rendered it, so painstakingly, on the great wall of the Sistine Chapel.
But the whole vision might well be a sermon in and of itself, with
God preaching a lesson specifically designed for Israelis putting
too much stock, so to speak, in their own sacrifices. The present tense ("summons") suggests that Asaph may be seeing a dream more than delivering a prophecy.
If the event at the heart of this
psalm is what Spurgeon says it is—something akin to Michaelangelo's Last Judgment, then why is there
no suggestion of heaven or hell
are. The after-life, it seems to me, is conspicuously absent. Promised rewards and threatened punishments
are offered in terms of this
world—verses 15 and 22—and not the next.
Where is this court and when was it held? Is it still in session? Or is it yet to come?
I don’t believe Charles Spurgeon is wrong in
asking his soul if it’s ready for the final judgment, but I’m not as sure as he
is that Psalm 50 is some prophetic view of that single, last heavenly
tribunal.
Here as elsewhere—or so it seems to
me—revelation, by which I mean our
hearing the very voice of God--is not in the facts of the verse, but in the
truth or moral of the psalm itself, specifically, in what Asaph claims God
tells us, believer and unbeliever
alike. It seems to me that the heft of this psalm is
homily, an admonition to humanity to live right, and for that reason isn’t in
any sense “final.”
In Egypt, under bondage, the people
of Israel had simply forgotten the God of Abraham. They didn’t remember him. Years had passed, piety waned, discipline
fell away. In Egypt, his chosen had to
be reminded that way back in some bleary ancient past, there was this God of
their forefathers. Who was he again?
Psalm 50 isn’t closing the book; it’s a vision of God having, once again, to remind his
people who they are and who he is. Because Israel needed that
reminder.
I ought to say it this
way. God’s people need (present tense) that reminder,
time and time again.
And time and time again.
And time and time again.
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