PURIFIED PRAISE (Psalm 147)

(The final psalm in the list of 48 commended by pastor-counselor David Seamands for study during times of “feeling down,” from his book Healing for Damaged Emotions.)

It was winter when I turned in my Bible and reference books to Psalm 147, and I soon realized that the weather outside (snow!) was an appropriate illustration. Hundreds of years earlier, King David saw snow (rare in the Holy Land) as a picture for what needed to happen after his sins of adultery, deceit and murder. In Psalm 51 (discussed in this blog on Oct. 12, 2018), he wrote:

Wash me and I will be whiter than snow. (51:7)

In his repentance, David wanted to be restored to purity and fellowship with his God. It wasn’t much different for the circumstances behind Psalm 147. After David’s reign, Israel fell apart and divided under various kings, some good, many bad. Finally, God’s discipline came when Babylon brutally conquered the nation and dragged the people north as prisoners. Seventy years later, Babylon was itself captured, and the new Persian king allowed the Israelites to return. But their beloved homeland was devastated and their temple in ruins. The book of Ezra recalls their challenges in rebuilding a lesser temple. Then Nehemiah came to supervise rebuilding the city’s walls for critical safety. Psalm 147 belongs to the end of Ezra, when enough of the temple was rebuilt for a celebratory worship service. The psalm is a model for praising God for his purifying and redeeming Hand.

HE RESTORES

Like all the psalms that conclude the book of Psalms, it begins, “Hallelu Yah!”—Praise the LORD!  Doing so is “good,” “pleasant,” and “fitting.” What had just happened to them, well, just didn’t happen in ancient societies. Returning to the ancestral lands was likened to healing the brokenhearted and binding up their wounds (v. 3). Such an event was a God-thing.

HE REVEALS HIMSELF IN HIS CREATION

If you stop to think about it, just what happens every day around us in what we call “nature” points to an all-powerful creator God. Thus the psalmist looks at creation. (That reminds me of wonderful hymns like “Morning Has Broken,” “I Sing the Mighty Power of God,” and, of course “This Is My Father’s World.”) From the stars to clouds, to weather (rain, snow, frost, hail), vegetation, and animals, there’s plenty to remind us of God’s creative power and pleasure.

HE REMEMBERS US!

What pleases Him the most?

The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. (v. 11)

The nation of Israel was lovingly planted, entrusted as a conduit of God’s laws and the lineage of Jesus, then disciplined severely with exile, finally—amazingly!--returned to its original lands. It became Exhibit A of God’s lovingkindness and longsuffering. Verse 20 emphasizes the uniqueness of it all: “He has done this for no other nation.” Even better, “redemption” isn’t limited to the ancients who returned to a broken-down city. The apostle Paul, explaining that “belonging to God” is now open to any, wrote, “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26).

God comes to us in our brokenness and replants us in places of promise. That truth should make every day a Thanksgiving day. Yes, life is messy. We’re not slaves and exiles in the ancient sense, but often we’re enslaved by negative circumstances and emotions. Yet Jesus said, “I have come that they [us!] may have life and have it to the full” (John 10:10).

As I end this nearly year-long study of psalms for “feeling down” times, I almost wish there were more in Pastor Seamands' recommended list. The problems that inspired this series still exist, but I have a better, God-perspective for them. It’s human to want life perfect and comfortable, but this is earth. It’s not heaven yet. In John 9, a blind man was brought to Jesus. The crowd asked if the man or his parents sinned so as to cause his blindness. Jesus answered neither, but that “this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life” (John 9:5). 

The blind man saw right away when Jesus healed him. It’s my prayer that this series will restore spiritual sight to those who’ve struggled with life’s inequities and hard places. God knows about every one of them, and our appropriate response should be that which rings loudly at the end of psalms:

Praise the Lord!

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 126: Joy and Tears

The analogy: sowing with tears, reaping with joy

Part of a continuing series on selected psalms.

Trapped.  Unappreciated.  Ignored. Rejected. When we experience emotions like this, we’re apt to think that God has forgotten us. Maybe we think our faith has failed us. Ancient Jews, exiled to Babylon, certainly did. The Jews were known for loving their music, but in their misery as exiles they refused to sing for their captors, hanging their harps in the local poplar trees (Psalm 137:2).

In such times, Psalm 126 comes to teach and encourage us. The setting is the release of Jews from captivity in Babylon, with permission to return to their homeland. Never before had a captive people been allowed to relocate “back home.” But not all returned—according to Ezra 2:64-68, about 50,000. That’s a sizeable number, but was only a portion of those taken as spoils of war. Those who opted to leave faced an arduous desert journey of hundreds of miles. Once back in their destroyed homeland, they were on their own.

Psalm 126 replays both ecstatic joy and tearful hope in these circumstances—emotions that we, too, may experience when life takes an unexpected, positive turn, or when life tries to drain us of hope.

ECSTATIC JOY

Several decades ago, while working at the headquarters of an international mission, I witnessed a dramatic re-enactment of the opening verses of Psalm 126. For nearly eight months—232 days—we’d prayed for a missionary couple and their small daughter, captured by rebels who herded them through the jungles of Southeast Asia. As the months dragged on, we gathered regularly to intercede for their safety and release. Then one morning, a special chapel meeting was called. It could mean only one of two outcomes: death or release. The mission’s Southeast Asia director began the meeting by reading from Psalm 126, his voice choked with emotion:
When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them. (vv. 1-2)
By then we knew they had been released!  He continued:
The LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad. (v. 3)
Newer translations clarify verse 1: “When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed.” The prophet Isaiah had foretold this, even down to the name of the yet-unborn leader, Cyrus, who’d buck custom and release them (Isaiah 44:28). Having this actually happen was like their wildest dream coming true. They probably retrieved their harps from the trees to celebrate this amazing turn of events! Our cultural lens makes it hard to understand the intense emotion of being able to return to one’s historical homeland, steeped in the history of the patriarchs.

The glad declaration of verse 3 is how we should respond to God’s amazing blessings. It’s a witness to those around us (as is was to neighboring nations, v. 2c).  In her book The Satisfied Heart (Waterbrook, 1999, p. 171), author Ruth Myers remarked how it’s refreshing to be in the company of a “glad person.” Such a person can brighten an entire room. Likewise, it’s discouraging to be around someone who regularly gripes, complains, and seems trapped in a gloomy mindset.

TEARFUL HOPE

Upon learning of our colleagues’ release, tearful prayers of thanksgiving flowed freely during that chapel hour. Though thin and sick, they were still alive. But they’d face many adjustments plus the grief of losing their precious manuscripts of the New Testament in a tribal language—the reason they were in that country. This was the ‘70s, when “saving” information in an internet “cloud” was the stuff of dreams. It was all on paper. As I recall that loss, I think of another couple I know who have devoted their entire adult lives—almost half a century—to translating the New Testament into two dialects of a South American tribal language. They endured deprivation, serious illness, cultural issues, government pressure, apathy and the plain hard work of learning an unwritten language. Recently I watched a video they sent of their second New Testament dedication. As I watched them join their joyful tribal friends, holding their New Testaments aloft as they did a celebratory dance, I thought of this portion of Psalm 126:
Turn again our captivity, O LORD, as the streams in the south. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. (vv. 4-6 KJV)
 

Jews who returned to their homeland faced great hardships. The land was in shambles, the temple burned, and the left-behind occupants hostile. No wonder they prayed, “Restore our fortunes, O Lord” (v. 4, NIV, ESV). They had to build homes and plant crops, using the precious seed they brought from Babylon. If they scattered generously, there would be less to grind into flour for bread for their families, and even less later if those crops failed. No wonder the farmer wept as he planted. He had no guarantee of a crop, only trust in God to provide.

No doubt they remembered that God had covenanted to provide adequate food for His people (Deuteronomy 28:1-14), and were claiming that promise in the midst of uncertainties. They were counting on God’s abundance to be as remarkable and refreshing as the rare downpours in the desert of the Negev (v. 4), which temporarily produced torrents that greened up nearby land. They were also trusting God for the time when a heavy heart of uncertainty would become the light, glad heart of joy as they gathered a harvest.

Beneath this picture of sowing and reaping actual food is the spiritual picture of sowing and reaping for God’s kingdom. Spiritual crops take waiting and tears. I try to remember that when I open my prayer notebook and pray again, and again, for loved ones who have rejected Christ or His better plan for their lives. Tears may come as my intense desire to see them spiritually whole overcomes me. Nineteenth century preacher Charles Spurgeon remarked, “Winners of souls are first weepers for souls.  As there is no birth without travail, so there is no spiritual harvest without painful tillage.”

Besides starting over with life’s necessities of housing and crops, the returned exiles faced rebuilding their temple. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell of the opposition and disappointments they faced, and how steadfast trust that God got them through it all. A lesson from that for us if that if things came too easily, we wouldn’t feel our need of God.  Perhaps that’s why we need the balancing exultation and agony of Psalm 126. True joy—deep, hard-won joy—comes from acknowledging that every good gift comes from God.  We sow daily through diligence in our work or studies, building good friendships, parenting the best we can for God, and staying faithful in prayer and Bible study. The journey may bring disappointment and tears. But as Psalm 30:5 reminds, “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” As we sow in God’s strength, we’ll reap in joy, and give Him the glory for it. Songs of joy, says the psalmist. Or to use the more recent lyrics given us by Fanny Crosby: “To God be the glory, great things he has done!”

 

Next: Psalm 130