Why God, why? This is a familiar question in our Christian experience; we all ask it from time to time. This query, though, can have a variety of different meanings. It can have the tone of wonderment. Why did God save a wretch like me? It might be seasoned with the dry rub of ignorance and frustration. Why did this happen? Why, God, did I get a terminal disease? Or this question can be honed to a sharper point, the protest of injustice. Why, God, did you permit this evil? How can God be righteous and make me suffer unjustly? Yes, this interrogative can have the bold force of complaint, disapproval, or remonstrance. And to raise such a protest is risky business; it leads us on to dangerous ground that may not be totally forbidden, but it often opens the door to sin, getting us into trouble. Yet in this psalm, the psalmist dares to tread on such a hazardous place. He protests and objects to God’s lack of fidelity, which leaves us feeling uneasy and nauseous and longing for relief.

One of our favorite pastimes when we were children was being told stories, and some of these stories were family history. Grandpa relayed tales of his adventures to us. In a similar fashion, the psalmist remembers the childhood stories told to him during catechism. Their fathers taught them well, repeating the histories again and again. And this was the historical tale of God’s deeds. The Lord performed a work in days of old. He worked wonders in the times of the ancestors. What period, though, of redemptive history does the psalmist recall? It is the conquest of the promised land, the stories recorded in the book of Joshua. It is not coming out of Egypt or the events of Sinai that are brought to the fore, but it is inheriting the promised land with war and victory.

The Lord’s own hand drove out the nations; it crushed the peoples of the Canaanites. And with the locals defeated, Yahweh planted and freed his people within the land. He made them live and rest in His realm flowing milk and honey. Moreover, the psalmist highlights how the Lord fought and won for his people. The generation of Joshua did not conquer by their sword; it was not their might that saved them. Rather, the arm of the Almighty won the day. Sure, the Israelites of old held the sword and did the stabbing, but the winning was all of God.

The language here recalls the sacred words of Scripture, particularly those majestic passages of Exodus 15, the Song of the Sea; Deuteronomy 32, the Song of Moses; and the tales of Joshua. As the Lord summarized the conquest in Joshua 24, “I drove out the Amorites and not by your sword or bow.” Israel could not boast in the weapons of war or their military prowess, for it was God who fought with them and for them to deliver an amazing victory.

And with this blessed history of God before his heart, the psalmist now professes his faith and fealty in the Lord. You are my King! The Commander of Jacob’s salvation is the Lord. There is only one master and Lord for the psalmist, Yahweh. Thus, he does not trust in his own sword. He puts no faith in his own arm to win salvation. Sure, in battle Israel gored and trampled the enemy like a wild ox, but this was only made possible by God. Israel was the instrument, but the Lord was the active agent. This is an excellent confession of faith and loyalty. The psalmist gives all the glory to God for past salvations. His trust has eyes for Yahweh alone. And so, as a people, they have praised God continually. They will lift high thanksgivings to the Lord without ceasing. In verse 8, we witness the ideal state of well-being and peace within the covenant. Yahweh saved them in the conquest; the psalmist has fealty and faith, so the people worship in gratitude.

Up to this point, this psalm strikes us as a hymn of praise. It tells the tale of God’s mighty works; it marvels in the amazing victories of the Lord, and it raises high, sweet thanksgiving on the wings of faith. All is well. That is, until we come to verse 9. The contrastive particle makes us jump like we stepped barefoot on a Lego: “however, but surely.”

Israel’s honeymoon past with the Lord has taken a major turn in the present, and it is not a good one. “But you have rejected and disgraced us!” The harmony of salvation and faith has fallen into the turmoil of shame and forsakenness. God’s favor has morphed into anger. And in terms of the covenant, such rejection spells judgment. The Lord forsakes as punishment for breaking his law. The Lord of justice sits on his tribunal executing sanctions on lawbreakers. And note how this forensic displeasure manifests itself. A very distinct scene and movement is presented in verses 9 and following.

First, the Lord did not go out with the battalions of Israel. In Joshua, this was a prime promise: Yahweh always marched with the forces of Israel. But currently, this was not happening. The context is battle, warfare against hostiles, and God was not behind their swords. Hence, second, the people turned back from the foe; they retreated in fear and defeat. Next, the enemy plundered and ravaged the Israelites. The saints became the spoils for their haters. Finally, God made Israel as sheep for the slaughter, which means widespread death. The casualties were strewn across the land. The vultures feasted on the Hebrew corpses. And put together, this is a picture of military defeat. Israel was horribly conquered by a powerful and hateful adversary.

And if we think of Israel’s history, this scene could have occurred any number of times. This was regular for Israel; they acted poorly and were defeated in battle as punishment. The scene is not finished, however; there is more after the pervasive slaughtering in verse 11: “You have . . . scattered us among the nations.” To spread the Hebrews out among many peoples is the curse of exile. And where defeats happened often, exile occurred only twice. First, when the northern kingdom was carried off by Assyria, and second, Babylon banished the southern kingdom after burning Jerusalem to the ground. The rejection the Hebrews were enduring is the ultimate curse of the covenant—exile.

The exilic imagery persists for several more verses. The Lord sold his people for nothing. He made them the taunt of their neighbors, the laughingstock and byword amid all the nations. The Israelites became an international proverb of what not to do, of how rebels are cursed for their folly. And this wretched misery of exile has stabbed the psalmist personally. Shame is continually before the psalmist; disgrace covers his face like a tattoo on the forehead that all can see. By just looking at the psalmist, you can tell that he is shamed with a curse. Thus, revilers and taunters pile on more shame. Enemies and avengers keep stabbing him with disgrace. The agonies of exile plague the psalmist and all the surviving Hebrews.

Moreover, all the language here is clearly pulled from other parts of Scripture. The curses of Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28 are cited and alluded to. Also, the psalmist’s word choice aligns with the prophets, particularly Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Some of the phrases here are practically taken from Jeremiah. To cite the Law and the Prophets, the promised curses and the fulfilled curses, points to a distinct period in history, the Babylonian exile. This psalm is attributed to the Levites, who were banished from the north and remained only in the southern kingdom of Judah. Jeremiah was the prophet of the Babylonian exile. Therefore, the psalmist and the people he represents dwell in the period of exile. This makes sense, then, of why the conquest is remembered and not the exodus. Under Joshua Israel gained the land, while in the exile, they lost the land. The conquest and exile are bookends around Israel’s time in the promise land as a free people under the kingship of Yahweh.

Yet now that we are standing with the Hebrews under the cursed exile, another surprise ambushes us. The first surprise came in verse 9 with the disastrous tumble from the ideal past into the shameful present. Verse 17 inflicts another shock to our system. The psalmist admits that all this has come upon them; they have experienced the horrible punishments of massive death, banishment amid the nations, and the constant misery of shame. But they suffered these curses being innocent! The psalmist protests that they are not guilty.

And he is not merely asserting his righteousness but the uprightness of the whole people. We have not forgotten you, God. We were not false to your covenant. Our hearts did not turn back from you; our feet never departed from your way. This is a thorough vow of innocence and obedience. They are in exile not as sinners but as righteous. And they are quite confident in their innocence, as they remark: If they had forgotten God, if they prayed to a foreign god, then the Lord would know it, for he perceives the secrets of the heart. The point is that they are completely sincere in their innocence from the heart. This is saying to God, “You know our hearts are pure.”

And yet this comment feels a touch snide. This whole bold protest of righteousness feels awkward, suspicious. We start to doubt the reliability of the psalmist. Is this accurate? Is he being honest, or is he self-deceived? To make matters more dicey, such professions of innocence at the exile are found frequently in Jeremiah and Ezekiel. The peace prophets and the majority of the people complained that they did not deserve the exile; they were being treated unfairly. And the Lord laughed at them. “Silly Hebrews, you are as guilty as sin.” Does this align the psalmist and his group with the stubborn and blind rebels of the exile?

On the other hand, there were righteous individuals exiled. Men like Jeremiah and Daniel were not exiled for their personal sins. Likewise, there was an upright remnant that was carried off. Is this the lament of the righteous remnant? Again, this slipper does not fit very well. Sure, Daniel was personally innocent, but guilt under Moses was also a corporate matter. He still bore guilt as part of the whole. Thus, when Daniel prayed, he did not assert his uprightness but confessed the sins of the ancestors, of the whole people, as part of his culpability (Dan 9). He affirmed the exile as God’s just punishment. Therefore, we should be highly suspicious of the psalmist here. A resolution to our angst over the psalmist will have to wait for the next episode, however.

©Zach Keele. All Rights Reserved.

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Post authored by:

• Zach Keele

  

  Rev. Zachary Keele grew up on a ranch in a small town named Crawford, Colorado. He attended Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania and received his Master of Divinity from Westminster Seminary California. He has served as the pastor of Escondido OPC since 2006.

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