Inter-Varsity Press

Contents

Preface
Introduction

1. A tale of two kings: David and Saul
2. Psalm 7. A good conscience in a bad time
3. Psalm 59. Getting on top of things
4. Psalm 34. An A–Z for a tight corner
5. Psalm 56. ‘When I am afraid . . . I will not be afraid!’
6. Psalm 52. A tale of two trees
7. Psalm 54. A lesson well learned
8. Psalm 142. Into the darkness: man-forsaken, not God-forsaken
9. Psalm 57. My darkness . . . his wings
10. Psalm 18. Behind the scenes with God
11. Psalm 30. Except the Lord build the house!
12. Psalm 60. The Lord’s banner unfurled
13. Psalm 51. The wonder of repentance
14. Psalm 3. ‘Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light’
15. Psalm 63. Weary days, sleepless nights: a God for all seasons
16. 2 Samuel 23:1–7. Another tale of two kings

Introduction

The poetry of the Hebrew Bible has nothing that compares with English ‘narrative verse’. When Lord Byron informed us that ‘the Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold’, that’s all there was to it, an elegant record of fact, decked out in somewhat improbable imagery. The poets of the Old Testament, and David among them, showed no interest in such recording of facts. When they traced the course of history (e.g. Psalms 78, 105 and 106), it was in order to assert truth, to draw out meaning, and to apply lessons. It was poetry as prophecy, a forth-telling of the truth about God.

Take Psalm 78, for example. In two parts it traces the story of Israel: from Egypt to the wilderness (verses 12–39), and from the wilderness to the Promised Land (verses 40–72). It is full of facts, but the purpose is always to bring out what the facts mean, to use them to declare ‘the praises of the Lord’ (verse 4) and to make them into a lesson to be passed on from generation to generation (verses 5–6), in order to hold them to the highest ideals of spiritual devotion (verse 7 onwards).

There are fourteen psalms of David that their headings relate to incidents in his life (as, e.g., Psalm 51). They do not record those
incidents; indeed, for the most part, they do not make any plain reference to them. They are, in fact, David meditating on, and drawing out the lessons from, his experiences, telling the ‘story within the story’, the feelings behind the facts, the way faith came to the rescue, prayer was made and heard, and, above all, the glory of the Lord in power and mercy. They are David’s ‘real’ account of his life story, his autobiography. Although the authorship of one or two of these psalms is debated – by others, not by me – for the purposes of this book they are taken to be psalms of David. They tell ‘what the Lord has done for my soul’ (Psalm 66:16).

It is perhaps worth mentioning that in the Hebrew text the psalm headings are not separated from the rest of the psalm, as has become the fashion in English versions. In our Bibles, the tiny print, and the way the headings are thus given a separate position, suggest that they are possibly optional extras. Indeed, it has even been known for them to be omitted altogether! Not so! We know of no Hebrew text from which they are missing, and when the text was divided up into verses, the headings were counted as the first verse(s) of the psalm in question.

If, therefore, we wish to deal straightforwardly with the sacred text as we have received it, the headings must be treated with equal seriousness. They are venerable and authoritative introductions to the psalms in question, and aids to our understanding of them. So this is what we are going to attempt.

For the most part, the psalm headings make a clear link with some recorded episode in the history of David as found in the books of Samuel and Kings (e.g. Psalms 3 and 59). Where the reference is unclear we must pursue the correct interpretation as best we can. Psalm 7 refers to an otherwise unknown incident, and, for example in Psalms 30 and 142, different settings are possible. It is also only right to point out that many interpreters would regard the headings as much later additions to the psalms, and with dubious (if any) value for understanding the psalms to which they are attached.

This attitude – and the principle on which it is based – do not appeal to me. Even if the headings could be proved to be ‘late’ (which cannot be done), we would still owe it to the ancient editors who put them there to assume that they did so intelligently and not in a moment of aberration! On the contrary, however, I find them perceptive and illuminating. I see no reason to suppose their presence is due to any other than David himself, and I invite you to join with me in enjoying the psalms in this light.

Extract from: Chapter 13: The wonder of repentance (Psalm 51)

Background reading: 2 Samuel 9 – 13; 15 – 18; 19 – 21; 1 Kings 1 – 2.

Even our best intentions can take wrong turnings. David’s warm and loving heart is seen at its best in his care for Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth (2 Samuel 9), and, typically, he wanted to extend the same sort of fatherly support to the bereaved son of his friend Nahash of Ammon (10:1–2). His overtures were misrepresented and led to war. But once again David chose the role of the royal grandee, retiring to his palace and its comforts while his generals and troops took to the field (2 Samuel 11:1). Thereby hangs a shockingly sad tale and a complex web of failure.

Do you know the word ‘trajectory’? A ‘trajectory’ is the curve made by a stone when it is thrown, or an arrow when it is shot. Leaving the hand or the bow, it rises for as long as the force behind it allows, then gradually falls until it reaches its target or hits the ground.

David’s life, sadly, followed a ‘trajectory’, rising to a high point, then falling away. The high point was, unfortunately, not a summit of achievement. Rather, as the Bible tells his story, to a certain point David was ‘on the up and up’. As we say today, he was upwardly mobile.

After that point, he was on a descending curve.

The high point of the trajectory was his adultery with Bathsheba, and his criminal involvement in the death of her husband, Uriah. It is all recorded in 2 Samuel 11 – 12. It is a grim reminder of how one thing can lead to another, how an unthinking lapse, followed by a ‘quick fix’, can have disastrous and prolonged consequences.

An unfortunate lesson learned?

2 Samuel 9 and 10 show David at his best, determined to ‘show kindness’, to live faithfully within covenanted loyalty. David had made a covenant with Jonathan, and he honoured it most beautifully in his care of Jonathan’s disabled son, Mephibosheth. He also felt himself obligated to Nahash of Ammon for some unrecorded kindness that he had enjoyed, probably during his wanderings. But this time – seemingly through no fault of his own – his kindness backfired. The Ammonites suspected him of having a hidden agenda, and acted with deliberate provocation, instigating a war that inflamed not only the area of Ammon itself but the Aramean kingdoms to the north, and even beyond the Euphrates. The result was a total victory for David’s armies.

In the course of all this, however, David appears to have learned an unfortunate lesson: namely that, as king, he could spare himself the rigours of a military campaign, while still enjoying its glory! So we read that, in the face of the Ammonite-Aramean threat, ‘David sent Joab out with the entire army’, and took command himself only for the final battle. This seemed like a successful formula, well worth repeating, but thereby hung a sad tale.

With time on his hands, David took a leisurely look at the naked Bathsheba, abused his royal position, misused his personal charm, and made her pregnant. But, then – consternation! – what about her husband? The doggedly faithful Uriah could not be persuaded into actions that might have concealed the child’s real paternity, and only the horrid expedient remained of making sure that he became a name on the casualty lists of the Ammonite war. It worked. So with Uriah safely packed away in a body bag, David did the honourable thing by Bathsheba.

Had he got away with it? Could he breathe easily again? No. Far from it. ‘The thing David had done displeased the Lord.’

The stone and the ripples

As a result of Nathan’s ministry, David is led to repentance. But repentance is one thing; consequences are another. An act of sin is like throwing a stone into a pond: repentance is like fetching the stone out again, retrieving the situation; but throwing the stone in and fetching it out create ripples, which spread and spread. Repentance in itself does not stop them rippling and spreading. Such, of course, is the infinite mercy of the Lord that very often (most times?) he not only blots out our offence when we repent, but also stems the tide of consequences. He has promised to forgive his penitents. This is his sovereign commitment, but it is a separate decision of sovereign wisdom to what extent the consequences of our acts are allowed to have their way, or are stopped in their tracks.

His sin with Bathsheba and Uriah turned the upwardly mobile David into the downwardly spiralling David. Things were never the same again. ...