Psalm 39 is my psalm.
Sorry,
bub; move along; you’re going to have to find your own psalm!
Thirty-nine is mine!
Many of David’s psalms I don’t
identify with so well. For example, I don’t have any real enemies;
at least, I don’t think I do. So the “save me from all my
enemies” psalms sort of zoom right past me. The penitential psalms
I identify with completely. I’ve had ample opportunity to pray
them. But the ones that complain about enemies, not so much.**
Except Psalm 39. You know who the enemy
is in that psalm? David is his own enemy. He’s being chastened for
sin: Remove your plague from me; because of the opposition of your
hand I am perishing. With reproofs You chasten a man for iniquity;
(vv 10-11a).
And he’s got his nose bent out of
joint about it, so he’s afraid to speak in public: I said I will
guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my
mouth as with a muzzle while the wicked are in my presence (v 1).
Ever been in a really bad mood? You
know they can read it on your face. And you know your attitude is
sinful. And you don’t even want to open your mouth, because you
know whatever comes out won’t be in keeping with Ephesians 4:29.
Ever been there? Me? Seems like I make a visit there several times
every day, at least.
Anyway, David did not want to dishonor
God anymore than he already had by his sin (of which we know
nothing). So he was keeping his mouth shut. But he knew what was going
on: I have become mute, I do not open my mouth, because it is You
who have done it (v 9). He knew that his troubles at that moment were from God's chastening rod.
So he’s biting his tongue. In fact,
he’s not saying anything, good or bad: I was mute and silent, I
refrained even from good, and my sorrow grew worse (v 2).
Finally he’s had enough and gets by
himself (I’m reading that into the psalm), and begins to pour out
his complaint and seek his God: My heart was hot within me, while
I was musing, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue: Lord,
make me to know my end and what is the extent of my days; let me know
how transient I am (vv 3-4).
Are you your own worst enemy? The fact
of the matter is, unless you have reached some exalted state of
sanctification, you probably are. I know I am. Maybe I ought to speak
for myself, though. I certainly don’t know your heart. Don’t even
really know mine (Jeremiah 17:9). But this I do know: no low-down,
lop-eared, son of a gun gives me as much grief as . . . I do.
Anyway, I like how this psalm runs its
course. I can identify with that, too. David’s still struggling at
the end of the psalm. He’s not wearing some syrupy sweet grin and a
“Smile, Jesus loves you” pin. Instead, he’s still crying out,
Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry; do not be silent
at my tears; for I am a stranger with you, a sojourner like all my
fathers (v 12).
I can’t really identify with the
sentimental “my dear Jesus, sweetest name I know” lingo. I know
folks who talk like that and really think like that, and who really
do mean it.
I’m just not there, not yet anyway.
Terms like, sovereign Lord Jesus Christ, Lord God Almighty,
Ancient of Days, and so on, speak far more to me than the
personal intimacy stuff. And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My
hope is in You. Deliver me from all my transgressions; make me not
the reproach of the foolish (vv 7-8). Now, that’s my language.
Like I
said, buddy: move over and find your own psalm. This one’s mine.
[**The main reason for this, I believe,
is that Christ faced and defeated those enemies for me on the cross.
Those psalms are largely (but not exclusively) Christocentric. I say not
exclusively, because when we do find ourselves with actual enemies,
we’ll find those psalms on our lips. I expect this is especially
true of the persecuted Church. If I ever undergo such persecution,
I’m sure that I, too, will identify more closely with those beautiful psalms.]
