As always, here’s my fairly literal translation of these verses:
2Incline to me Your ear. Quickly rescue me. Be to me
to a rock from strength, to a house of fortresses to save me.
The
symbols David includes in this prayer are like a string of pearls to us
beleaguered believers. “Incline Your ear to me.” What a rapturous joy it is for
us to cry out to our God, to know He is at this very minute keeping an entire
universe in motion, that He probably has a billion other people crying out at
the very same time, and yet, like a kind, devoted father, He leans down His Divine
ear to hear our feeble sobs.
“Quickly
rescue me.” The word translated “rescue” paints the idea of being snatched out
or drawn out. The silly child has fallen into a hole only to have the strong
arms of his father reach down and draw him out. “As a father pities his
children, so the Lord pities them that are His.” And David adds, “Quickly!”
Here we are, simple-minded children crying out “Quickly!” to our God who
inhabits eternity. Time means nothing to Him, yet He knows it can mean everything
to us – and once again He stoops to hear us begging for relief “quickly!”
“Be
to me a rock of strength, a house of fortresses.” In this world I am constantly
reminded I am not a rock. I have no strength. And I have no fortress of my own. After 60 years I
will say without hesitation this is a very scary world. Nothing is secure. As
poor Job found, everything we care about, everything we treasure can be gone in
a heartbeat – and the truth is there is nothing
I can do, in the end, to prevent it.
Right
now in America, we are having a flu epidemic. People are actually dying. And
not just feeble old people. Healthy young adults are getting “a cold” and three
days later they’re dead. Perfectly
healthy children are doing the same. It chills my heart to realize not just my
parents but any one of my children or grandchildren could be next. Even my
beautiful wife. The thought stirs an unthinkable, icy terror to the very depths
of my soul. And what can I do about it? Pray.
Nothing more. Take away my blessed assurance and what can I do? Nothing.
But
I have a Rock. I have a Fortress. And like David and the billions of believers
who’ve lived in this world, I go to Him.
“Some trust in horses and some in chariots” but we believers learned long ago
they’ll do you no good. “We trust in the Lord our God.” The inexhaustible
kindness of His big loving heart is my refuge. His wisdom to do whatever is
best is my comfort. His omnipotent strength is my confidence.
And
I love that the last words of this verse are “Save me!” The word translated “save”
is the same word from which derives the name “Jeshua” – which we Anglicize to Jesus. “You shall name Him Jesus, for He shall save His people from
their sins.” Years ago I realized that the very basic nature of our
relationship with God is that we need to be saved and He is a saving God. In
other words, here we are crying out, here we are messed up (again), in all
likelihood whatever it is, we got ourselves into it, and even if He does save
us today, we’ll be back on our faces tomorrow. We are a very, very sad case to
be anyone’s children, much less servants. Hopeless, helpless, failing we are.
But He doesn’t save us because we need to be saved. He saves us because He is a saving God! It’s who He is. That’s
what He does. It’s okay that I’m hopeless – He is a saving God. It’s okay that
I’m constantly needing Him. It’s okay that I’m so hopelessly weak. That is our
relationship – I need to be saved, and He is a saving God.
Jesus.
The “radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being.” Jesus.
Savior. Saving One. Immanuel, God with us.
Every
word of this Psalm is a pearl specifically because we come to Him needing Him and He is to us everything our hearts ever dreamed,
immeasurably more than we could ever have asked or thought.
Cry
on, O needy ones!
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