Sunday Morning Meds--from Psalm 4

 

aftermath of flooding just off our land

“Many are asking, ‘Who can show us any good?’”

As we’ve said before, the very first word of the very first Psalm is the life’s wish of every last human being who has inhabited or is or still will inhabit this earth. What everyone wants—no exceptions here—is to be blessed. Like that man whose image graces Psalm 1, 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 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 little, of course. Those of us who live in the affluent West often suffer more emotional woes than those whose lives, near and far, 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 well, just exactly how he means the comment seems to me to be up for grabs. Spurgeon can’t help but see in David’s characterization an implied criticism of the wicked; they’re rapaciously sinful appetites are constantly a-whoring, constantly chasing ill-fated images of happiness. But Spurgeon was a believer of his time, and his propensity for determining who is and who isn’t “the wicked” is legendary. To me, drawing the kinds of deep lines is a much tougher job than he found it to be.

I’m not sure that David is lambasting the wayward wicked with this line. What we’ve just come from in this very strange little psalm is a treatise sympathetically offered to those same sinners. “Here are the things you all should do,” David says, and then lays out his 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, well, 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 that the speaker 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 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 generous face on them, and on us, on all of us.

I guess I’d like to think that this isn’t a Psalm that shoves unbelievers into the fiery throes of hell, but puts in a good word for those folk, 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.