You may remember that a couple of weeks ago I mentioned how I see evidence of the Bible’s divine
inspiration in the consistency of a message delivered over a period of 1500 years by around 40
different authors. This morning I’d like to repeat this as my opening observation as I share a
reflection on a Bible passage from one of the books I rarely preach on, that being the Psalm we
recited together a few moments ago.
I’d like to begin by offering a point made by many Bible scholars. It has to do with something they call
‘progressive revelation.’ As you know, the scriptures begin with the book of Genesis, which
historically and poetically intertwines with an ancient oral tradition going back at least 400 years
before Moses. In it we learn authoritatively that there isn’t a whole pantheon of gods, but there is
one Creator God, whose brushstrokes produced creation and life. We learn there that God is a
personal God, who desires to bring his human creation back into relationship with Himself after we’d
severed our close connection through our rebellious behavior.
The Bible continues with the ancient Torah—the Law—which spells out how God wanted His people
to become distinct from the violent and immoral people surrounding those to whom he revealed
himself—people who were mired in rebellion and idolatry. What come next are the chronicles of the
people God chose to be the first to be reconciled to Him, and were to be the people who then would
reveal God’s nature and salvation to the whole world. These were the Hebrews, or the Jews.
The ups and downs of this relationship involved judges, kings and prophets among the chosen
people, over many centuries. And the breathless and glimmering promise behind it all is that God
would one day send his Anointed One to pave the way for humankind’s salvation, once and for all.
We Christians are confident to assert that this was fulfilled in the birth, life, death and resurrection of
Jesus the Christ, the Son of God.
Through this span of human history, as some of the roughness was gradually buffed off the spiritual
lenses of God’s chosen people, He revealed himself to them with greater and greater clarity. This is
what progressive revelation is. We see it as we work chronologically from the earliest writings of
Scripture to the most recent. It was in the midst of all of this that a poem, now known to us as the
62nd Psalm, came to be written, and is recorded for us within Holy Scripture. The word ‘psalm’
comes from a Greek word that means ‘a sacred song or poem.’ Psalm 62 may well have been written
by King David in a time when Saul’s family was trying to bring him down. This would place it
somewhere close to 1000 B.C.
So what I’d like to do this morning is just do a little line by line reflection on the words of this beautiful
poem, and see what nuggets are revealed to us about God and humanity. We jump in at verse six,
where today’s reading begins. “For God alone my soul in silence waits; truly, my hope is in him.” Don’
t you wish you’d written that? I whined a couple weeks ago about what I thought was a slightly
deficient translation of one word in an NRSV passage; this more than makes up for it.
“For God alone my soul in silence waits.” This beautiful line speaks volumes. It’s not hard to imagine
the distress the psalmist has been feeling. There are people in this world who make a full-time job of
engaging in treachery to bring others down. What pops into my mind is Mrs. O’Brien in the series
Downton Abbey on PBS, if you happen to be a fan of that. Perhaps like me, and I daresay like many
of us, the psalmist has been looking at the turbulence around him and wondering how he can bring
himself to peace. My favorite time to do this is about 4 a.m. I’m often a bit slow on the uptake, and
have to remind myself that there are certain burdens I’m not intended to carry.
So when that gentle light finally dawns, it does so in the silence of my own powerlessness. And it’s
with the realization that God alone is the one in whom I may safely invest my trust. I don’t have the
resources, the people around me don’t have the resources, the Bishop and the President don’t
have the resources, so I’m called upon to do what my Father in heaven has wanted me to do all
along—talk with Him in whom is my hope.
Silence can come from powerlessness, but it can also emerge from the knowledge that the din of
this frantic world all too easily drowns out the ‘still, small voice’ of God’s presence. This kind of
silence we might call the silence of attention. As Elijah found out on Mt. Horeb, the voice of God may
not come in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire, but in the silence of peaceful contemplation—
the silence of listening. The writer of Psalm 131 writes, “I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child
upon its mother’s breast; my soul is quieted within me.” Then he encourages the faithful to ‘wait
upon the Lord.’ I believe we’d do well to heed this advice as often as we can. God’s sweet response
makes it worth the wait.
Back to Psalm 62. In verses seven and eight David tells us why his hope is in God. “He alone is my
rock and my salvation, my stronghold, so that I shall not be shaken. In God is my safety and my
honor; God is my strong rock and refuge.” Here I think it’s important to note that David is reporting
not from wishful thinking but from real-life experience. From the time he was called in from the sheep
pastures to be chosen as king, to his self-centered and deplorable behavior to get Bathsheba (and
all of the painful consequences of that episode), to the insane rage of Saul in trying to kill him, the
one reality in which he learned to take solace was the starkly truthful and personally loving
presence of the God who chose him to be king.
In these two verses listen to David’s words describing God and his benefits: ‘rock’, ‘salvation’,
‘stronghold’, ‘safety’, ‘honor’, ‘refuge’. In a life as tumultuous as David’s, these descriptors can only
come from personal experience. And this personal experience can only come by investing trust in
God. Stepping out to meet God involves stepping out. In effect, taking a risk. Falling backwards into
strong and loving arms without benefit of a rearview mirror.
And this very thing is the message of the next verse, verse nine. The psalmist urges us: “Put your
trust in him always, O people, pour out your hearts before him, for God is our refuge.” Please notice
that here he goes from first person singular to second person plural. He goes from a report of his
personal experience to a joyful exhortation for all to place their trust in God, for he is our—yours and
my—refuge. As one who has done so (many times), including in a number of his own psalms, David
says, “Pour out your hearts before him.” Do you see the personal relationship with God that became
his through the intensity of his struggles? Instead of bemoaning some aloof presence far beyond
our ability to communicate meaningfully with, David is urging us to let rip with our emotions—to cry
out to God as one who has ears to hear and hands to help. This stands as a model for us, and how
things can be in our relationship with our Lord.
Another aspect of progressive revelation that emerges slowly as we walk through the Bible’s history
is that of eternal life. The collection of Psalms is right in the middle of that development. We have
one psalm of David that says darkly, “...In death no one remembers you; and who will give you
thanks from the grave?” And there are quite a few psalms that talk about Sheol, that shadowy, semi-
conscious underworld existence after death. But then we have another Psalm of David, Psalm 16,
that says this: “My heart…is glad, and my spirit rejoices; my body also shall rest in hope. For you will
not abandon me to the grave, nor let your holy one see the Pit. You will show me the path of life; in
your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.”
The perspective of eternity is hinted at in today’s Psalm. The writer says, “Those of high degree are
a fleeting breath, even those of low estate cannot be trusted. On the scales they are lighter than a
breath, all of them together.” There seem to be two related messages here. One is that, in the
perspective of eternity, the oppressors, the untrustworthy, those who have evil intent will blow away
like New Mexico dust in the spring. They are temporary, and in the scope of eternity,
inconsequential.
And second, the God who inhabits eternity is a God of justice who will ensure in the long run that evil
will ultimately spend itself in futility. They’re all lighter than a breath. These are heartfelt words from
a man who has learned that trusting people can be a pretty dangerous business. He’s been burned
by treachery, preyed upon by power, and betrayed by friends. But the Psalmist knows in his spirit
that the Lord of the universe is neither unfair nor inactive. Progressive revelation hasn’t progressed
to the point that he knows exactly how all of this will play out, but his relationship with God has
assured him that it’s all going to come out in the wash. And it’s going to be one heck of a wash.
He tells us not to put our trust in dishonest ways, or to try to grasp the handful of air that is human
pride, or to assume that our money or possessions will make any difference in the end. This isn’t
where real power is. David concludes, “God has spoken once, twice have I heard it, that power
belongs to God. Steadfast love is yours, O Lord, for you repay everyone according to his deeds.”
Love and justice go together like peanut butter and jelly. (King David didn’t say that; Father Dan did.)
Here’s the clincher: God’s revelation in the Holy Scriptures has come to completion with the story of
Jesus and the launching of his body, the Church. But the story itself isn’t over yet. That will come
when Jesus returns. The story will be over, yet it will be just beginning and you and I are written into
it. Night will have passed and a new day will dawn for all of us. But right now we’re on the page in
which we’re called upon to pave the road for his return with the firm gospel of grace and the refuge
of justice, joyful in the knowledge that Jesus is coming again to fully consummate the kingdom of
God. Then we’ll be able to sing along with George Friedrich Handel: “The kingdom of this world is
become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever.”
For God alone my soul in silence waits. Amen.
inspiration in the consistency of a message delivered over a period of 1500 years by around 40
different authors. This morning I’d like to repeat this as my opening observation as I share a
reflection on a Bible passage from one of the books I rarely preach on, that being the Psalm we
recited together a few moments ago.
I’d like to begin by offering a point made by many Bible scholars. It has to do with something they call
‘progressive revelation.’ As you know, the scriptures begin with the book of Genesis, which
historically and poetically intertwines with an ancient oral tradition going back at least 400 years
before Moses. In it we learn authoritatively that there isn’t a whole pantheon of gods, but there is
one Creator God, whose brushstrokes produced creation and life. We learn there that God is a
personal God, who desires to bring his human creation back into relationship with Himself after we’d
severed our close connection through our rebellious behavior.
The Bible continues with the ancient Torah—the Law—which spells out how God wanted His people
to become distinct from the violent and immoral people surrounding those to whom he revealed
himself—people who were mired in rebellion and idolatry. What come next are the chronicles of the
people God chose to be the first to be reconciled to Him, and were to be the people who then would
reveal God’s nature and salvation to the whole world. These were the Hebrews, or the Jews.
The ups and downs of this relationship involved judges, kings and prophets among the chosen
people, over many centuries. And the breathless and glimmering promise behind it all is that God
would one day send his Anointed One to pave the way for humankind’s salvation, once and for all.
We Christians are confident to assert that this was fulfilled in the birth, life, death and resurrection of
Jesus the Christ, the Son of God.
Through this span of human history, as some of the roughness was gradually buffed off the spiritual
lenses of God’s chosen people, He revealed himself to them with greater and greater clarity. This is
what progressive revelation is. We see it as we work chronologically from the earliest writings of
Scripture to the most recent. It was in the midst of all of this that a poem, now known to us as the
62nd Psalm, came to be written, and is recorded for us within Holy Scripture. The word ‘psalm’
comes from a Greek word that means ‘a sacred song or poem.’ Psalm 62 may well have been written
by King David in a time when Saul’s family was trying to bring him down. This would place it
somewhere close to 1000 B.C.
So what I’d like to do this morning is just do a little line by line reflection on the words of this beautiful
poem, and see what nuggets are revealed to us about God and humanity. We jump in at verse six,
where today’s reading begins. “For God alone my soul in silence waits; truly, my hope is in him.” Don’
t you wish you’d written that? I whined a couple weeks ago about what I thought was a slightly
deficient translation of one word in an NRSV passage; this more than makes up for it.
“For God alone my soul in silence waits.” This beautiful line speaks volumes. It’s not hard to imagine
the distress the psalmist has been feeling. There are people in this world who make a full-time job of
engaging in treachery to bring others down. What pops into my mind is Mrs. O’Brien in the series
Downton Abbey on PBS, if you happen to be a fan of that. Perhaps like me, and I daresay like many
of us, the psalmist has been looking at the turbulence around him and wondering how he can bring
himself to peace. My favorite time to do this is about 4 a.m. I’m often a bit slow on the uptake, and
have to remind myself that there are certain burdens I’m not intended to carry.
So when that gentle light finally dawns, it does so in the silence of my own powerlessness. And it’s
with the realization that God alone is the one in whom I may safely invest my trust. I don’t have the
resources, the people around me don’t have the resources, the Bishop and the President don’t
have the resources, so I’m called upon to do what my Father in heaven has wanted me to do all
along—talk with Him in whom is my hope.
Silence can come from powerlessness, but it can also emerge from the knowledge that the din of
this frantic world all too easily drowns out the ‘still, small voice’ of God’s presence. This kind of
silence we might call the silence of attention. As Elijah found out on Mt. Horeb, the voice of God may
not come in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire, but in the silence of peaceful contemplation—
the silence of listening. The writer of Psalm 131 writes, “I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child
upon its mother’s breast; my soul is quieted within me.” Then he encourages the faithful to ‘wait
upon the Lord.’ I believe we’d do well to heed this advice as often as we can. God’s sweet response
makes it worth the wait.
Back to Psalm 62. In verses seven and eight David tells us why his hope is in God. “He alone is my
rock and my salvation, my stronghold, so that I shall not be shaken. In God is my safety and my
honor; God is my strong rock and refuge.” Here I think it’s important to note that David is reporting
not from wishful thinking but from real-life experience. From the time he was called in from the sheep
pastures to be chosen as king, to his self-centered and deplorable behavior to get Bathsheba (and
all of the painful consequences of that episode), to the insane rage of Saul in trying to kill him, the
one reality in which he learned to take solace was the starkly truthful and personally loving
presence of the God who chose him to be king.
In these two verses listen to David’s words describing God and his benefits: ‘rock’, ‘salvation’,
‘stronghold’, ‘safety’, ‘honor’, ‘refuge’. In a life as tumultuous as David’s, these descriptors can only
come from personal experience. And this personal experience can only come by investing trust in
God. Stepping out to meet God involves stepping out. In effect, taking a risk. Falling backwards into
strong and loving arms without benefit of a rearview mirror.
And this very thing is the message of the next verse, verse nine. The psalmist urges us: “Put your
trust in him always, O people, pour out your hearts before him, for God is our refuge.” Please notice
that here he goes from first person singular to second person plural. He goes from a report of his
personal experience to a joyful exhortation for all to place their trust in God, for he is our—yours and
my—refuge. As one who has done so (many times), including in a number of his own psalms, David
says, “Pour out your hearts before him.” Do you see the personal relationship with God that became
his through the intensity of his struggles? Instead of bemoaning some aloof presence far beyond
our ability to communicate meaningfully with, David is urging us to let rip with our emotions—to cry
out to God as one who has ears to hear and hands to help. This stands as a model for us, and how
things can be in our relationship with our Lord.
Another aspect of progressive revelation that emerges slowly as we walk through the Bible’s history
is that of eternal life. The collection of Psalms is right in the middle of that development. We have
one psalm of David that says darkly, “...In death no one remembers you; and who will give you
thanks from the grave?” And there are quite a few psalms that talk about Sheol, that shadowy, semi-
conscious underworld existence after death. But then we have another Psalm of David, Psalm 16,
that says this: “My heart…is glad, and my spirit rejoices; my body also shall rest in hope. For you will
not abandon me to the grave, nor let your holy one see the Pit. You will show me the path of life; in
your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.”
The perspective of eternity is hinted at in today’s Psalm. The writer says, “Those of high degree are
a fleeting breath, even those of low estate cannot be trusted. On the scales they are lighter than a
breath, all of them together.” There seem to be two related messages here. One is that, in the
perspective of eternity, the oppressors, the untrustworthy, those who have evil intent will blow away
like New Mexico dust in the spring. They are temporary, and in the scope of eternity,
inconsequential.
And second, the God who inhabits eternity is a God of justice who will ensure in the long run that evil
will ultimately spend itself in futility. They’re all lighter than a breath. These are heartfelt words from
a man who has learned that trusting people can be a pretty dangerous business. He’s been burned
by treachery, preyed upon by power, and betrayed by friends. But the Psalmist knows in his spirit
that the Lord of the universe is neither unfair nor inactive. Progressive revelation hasn’t progressed
to the point that he knows exactly how all of this will play out, but his relationship with God has
assured him that it’s all going to come out in the wash. And it’s going to be one heck of a wash.
He tells us not to put our trust in dishonest ways, or to try to grasp the handful of air that is human
pride, or to assume that our money or possessions will make any difference in the end. This isn’t
where real power is. David concludes, “God has spoken once, twice have I heard it, that power
belongs to God. Steadfast love is yours, O Lord, for you repay everyone according to his deeds.”
Love and justice go together like peanut butter and jelly. (King David didn’t say that; Father Dan did.)
Here’s the clincher: God’s revelation in the Holy Scriptures has come to completion with the story of
Jesus and the launching of his body, the Church. But the story itself isn’t over yet. That will come
when Jesus returns. The story will be over, yet it will be just beginning and you and I are written into
it. Night will have passed and a new day will dawn for all of us. But right now we’re on the page in
which we’re called upon to pave the road for his return with the firm gospel of grace and the refuge
of justice, joyful in the knowledge that Jesus is coming again to fully consummate the kingdom of
God. Then we’ll be able to sing along with George Friedrich Handel: “The kingdom of this world is
become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever.”
For God alone my soul in silence waits. Amen.
January 22, 2012
Fr. Dan Tuton
Fr. Dan Tuton
A Timeless Psalm
(Psalm 62:6-14)
(Psalm 62:6-14)
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