Here’s my fairly literal translation of these verses:
A psalm to David in his being in the wilderness of Judah.
1O God, You [are] my God. Earnestly I seek You. My soul thirsts to You. My flesh faints to You in a dry and weary land with no water.
I have been studying through Romans 12 for several months, but it has been such a pearl-string of bombshells, I feel like I need a break to just let it all soak in. Also, I don’t like to be too long away from my Greek or Hebrew, so it would be a good idea to drop back and do some OT study for a while.
Psalm 63 has definitely been a favorite psalm for years, but I’ve just never gotten around to actually studying it. This will be a delight, I’m sure, to just slow down and really savor all these very blessed words and verses.
Obviously, the setting of the psalm is that David is in the wilderness…again. People argue whether this is from early in his life, when Saul was chasing him around, or later when he was fleeing from Absolom. I personally think it is from later as, in verse 11, he refers to himself as “the king.” David never laid any claim to the throne until Saul was dead. Though Saul was wicked and hunted him mercilessly, David never stopped respecting him. There is no doubt in my mind that David was too humble to call himself “the king” until he knew the Lord had in fact raised him to that position. On that basis, I believe this is a later psalm and most likely from the time of Absolom’s rebellion (or some similar hardship).
Let’s begin with this simple observation: This world is a wilderness. It is a “dry and thirsty land where no water is.” Life is hard. Actually, let’s all just say it. It’s brutal. Acknowledging that, telling God that, is not necessarily lacking faith. Just as here in Psalm 63, it may instead be an expression of faith. As David says elsewhere, “I believed, therefore I said, ‘I am afflicted!’” People’s natural response to pain in trouble is of course to be angry, to grow bitter, to lash out at each other. What David is showing us is a far better way. The difference is in the very first words of this psalm: “O God, You are my God.”
If you are a believer, you are not alone. You are a man, a woman, with a God! All day. Every day. You are never alone. Although David is in a wilderness, notice it is the “wilderness of Judah.” His wilderness is in the Promised Land. All over the rest of the world, even at that moment, people were wandering in the darkness of their sin and ignorance. Their gods didn’t love them. Their gods were cruel and vindictive and even sometimes capricious. Those people’s pain was just aimless fate. Not so for a person with a God, a person who lives in our God’s Promised Land of love and joy and peace. In that land, the same David could say, “It was good that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes!” Paul would later state it in our familiar promise, “All things work together for good…”
So here are you and I. Just like our unbelieving friends, we live in this painful, brutal wilderness. However, we are not the victims of cruel fate or disinterested gods. In our pain, we can cry with David, “O God, You are my God!” – even in this “dry and thirsty land where no water is.” Sometimes that wilderness comes in the form of physical pain, grief, loss, fearful news, etc. Then sometimes it assaults us in our heads. The “wilderness” can be as simple (though painful) as just feeling lost. Feeling confused.
In my own life, I’ve gone through some of those wildernesses that lasted literally for years. For just the last few years I’ve been hovering on the edge of this business of getting old and retiring. Everything is changing (and I don’t like it), but, as much as I try, I just don’t see the path forward. So many things that I used to do with ease, suddenly I’m struggling with – or dare not do at all. I love my job. I don’t want to retire, but I no longer have the energy to work 40 hours a week. My mind doesn’t work like it used to. I can’t seem to multi-task anymore. I’m not even good at tasking, much less the “multi-”! I can be talking or thinking and suddenly can’t remember what I was talking or thinking about. I sometimes can’t remember words or names and, because of that, I can barely talk at all.
Yet, what am I to do differently? I could get a rocking chair, sit on my front porch, and just wait to die. The problem with that to me is, what if I live another 25 years? I don’t want to waste 25 years. I want to do all the good I can for all the people I can as much as I can for as long as I can. I’ve always been very happy to do that primarily through my engineering, and the Lord has always miraculously carried me and enabled me to build myriads of relationships and genuinely help people/communities solve their problems.
So…what do I do now? I don’t know. I don’t know how much longer I’ll live. At this age, the general plan is not to get better. As a little girl once observed after visiting with her family in a nursing home, “Daddy, these people aren’t going to get better, are they?” When we’re young, we think we have the world by the tail – and, in a sense, we do. It’s all up from there. We get our schooling, get a job, get married, buy a home, have babies, advance in our careers, etc. For me, that world has come crashing down. So what do I do now? What’s the plan? Where are we going?
I don’t know. And I don’t like it. I feel like I’m in a wilderness right now. Probably for anyone reading this, you might be wondering why this is a big deal to me, but I’m quite sure you also have your own “wilderness(es)” constantly beating you over the head. So, we’re in the same boat, just different. What do you do? What do we do? We do what David does. We lift up our hearts and say, “O God, You are my God.”
“Earnestly I seek You.” Notice he says, “I seek You.” When us humans get in trouble, when we’re scared, when we find ourselves in a wilderness, we first of all seek relief, whatever that means and whatever it takes. What we seek earnestly is how to make it go away. David had learned one of the believers’ most precious secrets – the peace and joy of instead, in that trouble, seeking the Lord. Yes, we want relief, but with the Savior, we learn to say, “…nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done.” We seek Him. We go into His presence and find whatever our heart really needs – perhaps enjoying praise or, on the other hand, like Job, a place to vent our anger. Whether either extreme or something in between, it is Him. I need Him. You need Him. We need Him. He is a personal God. He is my God. He is your God. We both need to earnestly seek Him.
Just so it’s said, if you read different translations, you’ll notice some say, “earnestly,” while others say “early.” “Which is it,” you may ask? The answer comes remembering that Hebrew is not a technically precise language like English. It is a story-telling language, where words paint pictures. The word here is just that; it is closely related to their word for the dawn, and so, has that sense of “early,” but, if you can imagine, that also carries this sense of earnestness. When you have something important to do, you may get up early to get started – because you’re earnest about it. Obviously, some translators see the “early,” while others see the “earnestly.” Either way, you get the picture!
David’s language is interesting in that he says, “My soul thirsts for You; My body longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where no water is.” As I sit and contemplate all of this, my first thought is that honestly what I’m thirsting and longing for is relief. I wish all these flies and gnats buzzing around my head would just go away. However, as I sit in the Lord’s presence and tell Him about it all, I do find I know what David means. It really is Him. We’ve been here so many times before. He has done me good my whole life. Looking back, I can see so many ways He used even my hardest times to do me good, to help me grow, to get me where I needed to go. As I sit and let my mind be surrounded by His wonderfulness, I find that is where I truly want to be.
I don’t really just want relief. I want Him to accomplish whatever He’s up to. And I can rest in that. Again, to be honest, the second I walk away, I’m afraid my heart is still longing just to escape it all, but I suppose I can take some comfort in knowing that both are true. Yes, I want relief, but then, not really. I want Him to win.
This is a crazy life. I (we) live in an awful, howling wilderness. Yet I am not alone. I am a man with a God. Even in this wilderness, I have a place to go where there is rest and comfort and hope. It doesn’t make the wilderness go away (or even necessarily any less painful), but yet there is His Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, dwelling here in my heart. I do know what love and joy and peace are.
God help us to live Your peace even in this wilderness. We do want relief, but may our greatest joy be simply to know You, to find our rest in You.