A Glorious Unfairness: Psalm 35 (Part 1)

by on September 5, 2026 | Comment

In addition to our five senses, we are born with instinct. Like a sixth sense, instinct is a bit nebulous and mysterious but undeniable. There are different types of instincts; they come in different measures, and you can grow in them. Some people have an inherent sense of direction; others, perfect pitch; and others, a natural athleticism. But one instinct we all share is fairness. We sniff out immediately the unbalanced, disproportional, and unfair. From toddlerhood on, we just know when to cry, “That’s not fair!” This urge for fairness permeates most of life, from the law to how we treat others to how we cut the cake. Some of the world’s greatest evils fall under the category of unfair: injustice, oppression, and corruption. When we suffer unfairness, the pain goes deep, and our cries are loud. Many laments have been raised to God due to the agony of unfairness. It would not be far off to say that most of the world’s problems boil down to unfairness. Yet we often neglect to recognize that the ultimate solution to our problems is also unfair.

This psalm is attributed to David, but no other details are supplied—historical, musical, or otherwise—which implies that it is a prayer. And what a prayer it is, for the psalmist leaps out of the gate with a series of intense requests. He piles up his demands of the Lord, which are full of vigor and violence. First, he calls for the Lord to “contend” or to dispute, which is a legal request. This means to argue your case in a courtroom. The psalmist has been charged, and he cannot afford a public defender; he is without an advocate and representation, so he summons the Lord to be his defense attorney.

But what opens in the court soon turns militaristic. He calls the Lord to fight for him. Grab shield and buckler! Wield the spear and javelin and attack! David files a petition for the divine warrior to ride forth out of heaven. The javelins of the Almighty are bolts of lightning; the shield of the Most High is the dark canopy of clouds under his feet. As well as the psalmist’s pursuers and fighters, there are enemy combatants. We are no longer sitting in a court of law but are standing in the middle of a battlefield with missiles and darts zipping by. Is this David praying amid one of the many battles he waged? Most likely not, for the combination of the forensic and the militaristic means they are both metaphorical.

The psalmist is not literally in a court or battle, but those opposing him are so hostile it feels like it. David is alone and exposed, and his foes attack him with the might of the judicial system, with the weapons of war. Verse 4 says that they are seeking his life and devising his demise. The opponents scheme how to murder him; they do not want him hurt but dead! So the psalmist calls on the Angel of the Lord to pursue them, to drive them away like chaff in the wind. The Angel of the Lord is a manifestation of Yahweh come down to earth to intervene for his people. The Angel of the Lord regularly dons the armor of the divine warrior as the general of the heavenly armies.

So David pleads that the Lord would shame and humiliate those who are trying to murder him. May their assaults be turned back and their schemes fail. Let their path be slippery and dark, a water slide with a speedy descent into Sheol. The vicious violence against the psalmist must be met with an equal and opposite force from the Lord.

Even though these are poetic metaphors, we are still curious about the concrete realities behind them. The opponents want David dead with the intensity of war and the force of a courtroom. But what are the specifics of their assault? The psalmist divulges more. To begin with, in verse 7 he remarks that they have laid their net for him without cause. For no particular reason, without a specific agenda, they set their trap for the psalmist. They are not avenging David for something he first did to them. Their murderous attacks are not retaliation, not because they think David is bad in some way, and not to plunder him for some gain. No, they are not motived by some cause but just because they can. This is doing evil for evil’s sake; it is wickedness as entertainment. Why are you tormenting the psalmist? I don’t know—it is fun? The sinisterness of their aggression arises out of the dark depravity of their souls. To murder for money stinks, but at least it has a purpose; to murder for amusement and mirth is doubly foul.

Yet the opponents’ degeneracy gets worse. In verse 11 the psalmist colors them as malicious witnesses, which are lying witnesses in court to commit judicial murder. They make up lies about him and they ask him about things he does not know. This conjures up that familiar scene in movies where henchmen are torturing someone for information. The victim actually does not know the information, but they do not believe him and keep torturing him. Likewise, these oppressors abuse the psalmist over things he is ignorant about. When he says, “I do not know,” they call him a liar and rip out another fingernail. And this infliction of pain registers as repaying evil for good in verse 12.

This lands us within the heart of the psalm. The foes received good from the psalmist and they pay him back with evil, which is the most heinous expression of unfairness. Our fairness instinct senses that our interactions with others should be proportional. Like the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” relations should be balanced. A nice hello deserves the same in return. If you get a gift on your birthday, you should give one on theirs. If someone snubs you and you snub them back, this might not be fully proper, but it does not offend fairness. Thus, most often we are offended when goodness done gets zero in return. You gave a generous present and didn’t even get a thank you card? How rude and ungrateful! Yet to be repaid evil for good is like handing a homeless person money and a meal and he knifes you back. It bites the hand that feeds you; it returns hatred where nothing but love was shown. And this is what has impaled the psalmist.

These foes volley back evil for the good he did, which has left the psalmist with the deepest grief. So, verse 12 says literally, “bereavement for my soul.” The psalmist paints himself here in feminine imagery, as a mother. His soul feels like a bereaved mother who just witnessed her only child die. In Scripture, the most grievous grief belongs to a bereaved mom. It recognizes the uniquely personal bond between mom and child. She carried that babe for nine months, bore the infant through hours of agonizing labor, and nursed the little tot for months. The bundle of joy is an extension of the mother’s life, whose life she treasures more than her own. The bond between mother and babe is a woven cord. Their lives are braided together so that you cannot sever one thread without doing irreparable damage to the other. It is not that dads do not have something similar with their kids, but biological reality gives a special bond to mothers. And the psalmist has been wounded like a bereaved mother.

How did his foes cut him so deep? He narrates the story. First, he replays the good he did when they were sick (v. 13). Whoever these opponents are, they had been laid up. They caught a serious case of pneumonia. And being in the hospital, the psalmist interceded for them. He strapped on the sandpaper of sackcloth. He starved his soul with fasting. His prayer went forth from his bosom. He anxiously paced for them like a brother, like a best friend. He crouched over and made himself dark as a mourning mother. This line in verse 14 is not about a child who mourns for a mother but a mother who mourns for her child.

And two truths emerge from this good of the psalmist. One, his relationship with these folk was one of friendship and love. He was a friend to them, like the friend who is closer than a brother. He cherished them as a mother does her little ones. David loved these people like his own soul—this is how close they were. Second, being sick, the psalmist did not merely mourn and pray for them but entered their pain. These rites of sackcloth, fasting, and blackening the face take on the pain that the sufferer feels. The sick lose their appetite, so you fast to be like them, to intercede for them. Such self-infliction acts like an extra pair of hands to help the other carry his troubles.

Thus, when these intimate friends were sick, the psalmist begged God to heal them. When these children of his fell ill, the psalmist was at their bedside, nursing them like a grieving mother. This is the good that David paid out to these folk. He lavished on them love, sympathy, and every possible concern. No one can care like a mom, and the psalmist was mother of the year to them. And in part 2, we will see what the psalmist received in return for all this love paid out.

©Zach Keele. All Rights Reserved.

You can find the whole series here.

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  • Zach Keele
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    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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