“If the LORD delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm;”
Thus saith the NIV.
The rough logic of verse 23 of Psalm 37 is not that difficult to understand: When—if, even—the Lord likes what he sees in a person, he’ll give the guy or gal a break. Sounds fair. That’s the kind of God I can deal with. He’ll love us if he determines we’re worth his investment. I can deal with that.
Listen to this: “The steps of a man are established by the Lord,” says the New American Standard; “and he delights in his way.” Or how about the KJV: “The steps of a good man are ordained by the Lord, and he delights in his way.”
Seems a whole lot different from the NIV. Correct me if I’m wrong, but in the gap that separates the translations, there’s a whale of a difference. In the NIV, something reciprocal is occurring—“you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” That kind of thing, as if God almighty is shopping for a used car—kicking tires, checking mileage, looking for dings. If he likes what he sees, he buys. It’s that simple.
In the King James, God isn’t shopping. He’s turning out human beings, setting them on a charted course, and watching them go exactly where he’s determined they would, as if, in a way, he were spinning tops. But even that’s a lousy analogy because, once spun, the top-spinner has no idea of the thing’s direction. Maybe he’s like one of those folks who love model trains. Get the cars out of the box, assemble the tracks, and let ‘em go. The tracks are there.
What seems unmistakable in the KJV and New American Standard is that God knows where we go, when we stand, and when we stoop--our ups, downs, and all arounds. What’s more, he delights in watching it happen, in seeing what he in fact determined. He loves to watch us circle around the tracks he’s laid.
That’s a whole different God from the one looking for used cars—or so it seems.
What’s at the base of the difference is a pair of contrary ideas that are not arcane, ideas that have puzzled human beings for centuries. Are we free, or is everything about us pre-conceived, foreordained, predestined? Good folks, brilliant theologians, learned scholars have and will continue to disagree, I’m sure, as do—obviously—the linguists who work as bible translators.
Who’s right? Good question, and always worth considering.
But what did the poet/King say? Where would he come down? What did he intend? Whose translation is accurate?
Those questions don’t bother me at all because this is, first of all, a song and not an academic treatise. Psalm 37 is all about security, about comfort, about feeling rest and peace in the Popeye arms of the one who made us and who never leaves.
In the very next verse David will admit he’s an old man, a fact which may well be key to our accepting the sheer joy of this line’s thickly upholstered comfort. I’m likely older than he was when he wrote the song or offered the meditation. And I think I know why he wouldn’t care for the debate. Really, all he wants us to know is that when he looks back on his life—all of it—he knows, for sure, that the God who breathed his own breath into the child who would, surprisingly, become King, that God would never really leave him alone. That God was there always, and will be, forever, every last step of the way.
Verse 23, no matter how you read it, is far less a proposition than a promise.
Listen to this: “The steps of a man are established by the Lord,” says the New American Standard; “and he delights in his way.” Or how about the KJV: “The steps of a good man are ordained by the Lord, and he delights in his way.”
Seems a whole lot different from the NIV. Correct me if I’m wrong, but in the gap that separates the translations, there’s a whale of a difference. In the NIV, something reciprocal is occurring—“you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” That kind of thing, as if God almighty is shopping for a used car—kicking tires, checking mileage, looking for dings. If he likes what he sees, he buys. It’s that simple.
In the King James, God isn’t shopping. He’s turning out human beings, setting them on a charted course, and watching them go exactly where he’s determined they would, as if, in a way, he were spinning tops. But even that’s a lousy analogy because, once spun, the top-spinner has no idea of the thing’s direction. Maybe he’s like one of those folks who love model trains. Get the cars out of the box, assemble the tracks, and let ‘em go. The tracks are there.
What seems unmistakable in the KJV and New American Standard is that God knows where we go, when we stand, and when we stoop--our ups, downs, and all arounds. What’s more, he delights in watching it happen, in seeing what he in fact determined. He loves to watch us circle around the tracks he’s laid.
That’s a whole different God from the one looking for used cars—or so it seems.
What’s at the base of the difference is a pair of contrary ideas that are not arcane, ideas that have puzzled human beings for centuries. Are we free, or is everything about us pre-conceived, foreordained, predestined? Good folks, brilliant theologians, learned scholars have and will continue to disagree, I’m sure, as do—obviously—the linguists who work as bible translators.
Who’s right? Good question, and always worth considering.
But what did the poet/King say? Where would he come down? What did he intend? Whose translation is accurate?
Those questions don’t bother me at all because this is, first of all, a song and not an academic treatise. Psalm 37 is all about security, about comfort, about feeling rest and peace in the Popeye arms of the one who made us and who never leaves.
In the very next verse David will admit he’s an old man, a fact which may well be key to our accepting the sheer joy of this line’s thickly upholstered comfort. I’m likely older than he was when he wrote the song or offered the meditation. And I think I know why he wouldn’t care for the debate. Really, all he wants us to know is that when he looks back on his life—all of it—he knows, for sure, that the God who breathed his own breath into the child who would, surprisingly, become King, that God would never really leave him alone. That God was there always, and will be, forever, every last step of the way.
Verse 23, no matter how you read it, is far less a proposition than a promise.
1 comment:
I was supposed to get the RSV vaccine. I requested the ESV, but no luck. Ba-da-bing!
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