Christmas will never be the same for twenty families in Newtown, Connecticut. This year they will have to endure the pain of seeing Christmas presents intended for their children sit unopened under the tree. The last shot fired at Sandy Hook Elementary School took the life of the deranged gunman, but once it was fired, the battle had just begun. As twenty families struggle to come to terms with the unimaginable events of last Friday, they find themselves in the trenches of a spiritual battle that will either bring them to a deeper knowledge of God than they have ever known before, or it will serve to harden them against him.
And the same is true for you. Much of our lives is lived in the trenches, where we are caught in a grueling battle to preserve our faith in the face of afflictions. It is what we should expect in this present evil age. It is why Peter wrote in 1 Peter 4:12-13, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share in Christ’s suffering, that you also may rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.” This place—the trenches of war—is a place where prayer should happen. Often when I know of some suffering that you as individuals and families are facing, I will pray that through this affliction you might call out to God and so come to a deeper knowledge of him than you otherwise would have had if not for this affliction. I try to imagine us in Heaven 10,000 years from now, not being thankful for suffering itself, but praising God that, in his sovereign wisdom, he drew you farther into the depths of eternal joy in him through this suffering than you ever would have known otherwise.
In Psalm 61 David provides us a model of a response to affliction through prayer that gives us this lesson: In the trenches of life, we must remain confident of God’s favor to us and cry out to him for deliverance. When the battle rages around you, don’t allow yourself to be hardened to God. Open yourself to him as David does here, and find the blessing of a deeper knowledge of God.
There are many ways this psalm could be divided, but I have chosen for our purposes today to split it right down the middle at the word selah. And so we will draw from this psalm two words of instruction for prayer in the trenches of life.
First,
We cannot know exactly what situation David was facing when he wrote this. He says in verse 2, “from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint.” We can gather from these words that David was far away from Jerusalem, far away from the holy place, and that he was facing some kind of distress that left his heart feeling faint. Was this a military campaign? Was this the time when he fled from his son Absalom? God does not intend us to know. The psalm speaks of distress in general terms, making it all the more applicable to us in the various distresses of our lives. Whatever the situation may have been, David was in the trenches, fighting to maintain his faith.
What we do know from verse 2 is that David was far removed from God and the assembly of God’s people and that his heart was weary with distress. In my personal experiences, those are times when I find it difficult to pray. When crying out to God is so difficult because of the distress and the feeling of distance from him, I find it much easier to retreat into a spiritual lethargy, depression, an inward focus of self-pity. But as David teaches us here, prayer is not for the spiritually lazy. Out of his weariness and distance from God, David does not retreat into himself. He cries out in verse 1, “Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer!” When it requires all the strength he can muster, David gives himself to prayer.
We might think that the best times of prayer, the times when we draw closest to God, are the times when “all’s right with the world,” and thus when we have energy and momentum to raise our minds to Heaven in a seemingly effortless way. I do not deny how good those times are, but let’s be realistic: if much of life is lived in the trenches of spiritual warfare, then God intends for us to learn how to pray in the middle of war. And the surprising thing is that as we discipline ourselves to do it—as we cry out to God from the depths of our soul with the last bit of energy that we have been able to conjure up for the task—we find that we enter into new depths in our knowledge of him. Do not let spiritual depression lead to spiritual lethargy. Prayer is not for the lazy.
But how will we find the strength to cry out to God for deliverance when our hearts are faint? What will motivate us to pray from the trenches? Our knowledge of God will motivate us. Notice several observations from the first four verses. In verse 1, David’s address is simply “O God.” He repeats the name “God” in verses 5 and 7. It is interesting to note that this Hebrew word, elohim, is the only way that David addresses God in this entire psalm. Not once does he employ the covenant name of God, the proper name by which God had revealed himself to Israel: Yahweh. David uses the more general term, but one that connotes God’s universal sovereignty over creation. This is the term used exclusively throughout Genesis 1 to speak of God as creator of all things. Even though David is far removed from Jerusalem, he has absolutely no doubt that the sovereign God of creation will hear him and respond, even though he is at the end of the earth. As he says in Psalm 139, “If I ascend into heaven you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, behold, you are there.” God is utterly inescapable. Let that motivate you to pray in those moments when you feel distant from him.
Then notice a series of images David employs to speak of God’s protection. Each one communicates the truth of divine protection and favor in a different way. The first is that of a “rock that is higher than I,” a wilderness refuge from the enemy that is out of David’s reach but that he trusts he can attain by God’s help. The second is in verse 3: “for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.” Second Chronicles 26:10 mentions King Uzziah building towers in the wilderness because of his abundance of livestock. The responsibilities of a shepherd often took him to places were he was vulnerable to attack from wandering bandits. So it was beneficial for shepherds to have towers in the wilderness where they could retire in the evenings and sleep knowing they were safe. David switches the image in verse 4 with this prayer: “Let me dwell in your tent forever!” Moving from tower to tent, we move from the image of security to warmth and hospitality, from protection against enemies to the warm welcome of a friend. Of course, it is also worth noting here that during the time of David’s reign the ark of God dwelled in a tent in Jerusalem, and so to dwell in God’s tent is, for David, to dwell in the place where God himself dwells. The final image is the most intimate one: “Let me take refuge under the shadow of your wings!” I can’t help but recall the words of Jesus in Matthew 23:37: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” David seeks security in God’s bosom, so to speak. The word “wings” also may allude to the wings of the cherubim that extended over the Ark of the Covenant in the most holy place in Jerusalem.
Even though he is, in a sense, far from God and faint in heart, David cries out because he knows the character of God. And his knowledge of God had been forged in moments like these. The best example of a man who cried out to God from the trenches is that of our Lord. Alone in the Garden of Gethsemane, where his disciples were too tired to watch and pray with him, Jesus walked into a raging spiritual battle, one that left him bleeding, literally, through his sweat glands. I can imagine that it was at that moment that Satan threw everything he had at Jesus in an attempt to convince him to walk his own path apart from the Father. And as the battle raged, Jesus cried out in prayer three times, and three times he submitted his will to the Father. Luke’s gospel tells us in Luke 22:43, “And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him.” Jesus cried out from the trenches, and his Father heard him and answered.
Prayer is often not easy. In fact, it may be those times when praying seems like the hardest thing in the world to do that we most need to pray, for we will find that, like David and like Jesus, calling out to God from the trenches will bring us to a deeper knowledge of God than we have ever known before.
And then we come to a second word of instruction
Do not merely go through the motions of prayer because you think that is what you ought to do. Pray with the assurance of God’s favor to you. In a letter dated December 12, 1533, Martin Luther wrote these words to his friend John Schlaginhaufen: “I am sorry to hear that you are still depressed at times. Christ is as near to you as you are to yourself, and he will not harm you, for he shed his blood for you. Dear friend, honor this good, faithful Man. Believe that he esteems and loves you more than does Dr. Luther or any other Christian. What you expect of us, expect even more of him. For what we do, we do at his command, but what he who commands us does, he does spontaneously and out of his own goodness.” This kind of confidence in the favor of God is what we see David demonstrate in verses 5-8.
In verse 5 David speaks as one who has already been delivered: “For you, O God, have heard my vows.” Vows were special pledges of an offering to the Lord that one would make to add intensity to one’s petition, and often in anticipation of answered prayer. Think of Hannah vowing to the Lord that if he would give her a son, she would dedicate him to the service of the Lord at the tabernacle. David speaks here of a confidence that God has “heard” his vows and, by implication, the petitions that have accompanied them. But for God to “hear” does not merely mean that God is aware of them. It means God has acted in response to David’s prayers. The latter part of verse 5 is even more explicit: “you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.” What David means is that God has given to him the same heritage that he has also given to all who fear him. And what is that inheritance? Among other places, Psalm 37:9 tells us: “For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.” Throughout Scripture the promise of land, a land of God’s dwelling, a land blessed with abundance, peace, and security, stands as an enduring hope for those who fear God. David says here that God has already given him this inheritance. And yet, in verse 2 David had said previously that he cries out to God “from the end of the earth,” outside the land of promise. Did David write verse 2 during a time of personal exile from Jerusalem and then write verse 5 later once he had returned? That is possible, but I think it far more likely that David wrote both verses at the same time during his exile, meaning that David is speaking in verse 5 of a future reality, but one that is so certain that he holds it up as already accomplished. God has already given him the heritage of the land; it belongs to him, but he possesses it now by faith, not by sight.
This is exactly the kind of situation we find ourselves in when we pray. We already own the deed to a better country, a heavenly one, and yet we remain here in this present evil age. How do we know that the inheritance is ours? How do we know that God has given it to us? Paul gives us a solid argument to bolster our assurance in Romans 8:32: “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” This is an argument from the more difficult to the less difficult. If God has already done the more difficult thing, we can know with certainty that he will do the less difficult thing as well. And Paul says that God did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. That is the more difficult thing, for the infinite worth of the Son demonstrates the incredible cost God paid for our redemption. And if God has already done the more difficult thing—and he has!—how much more can we expect him to do the easier thing and give us “all things,” that is, a new creation? The cross of Christ is your deed to the Promised Land. So call out to God with the assurance of your possession, guaranteed by his love for you in Christ.
Then we come to verses 6-7, which are a prayer for the king. Of course, David was the king, so this could be understood as a prayer of David for himself. But I think there is more to it than that. David is praying for himself as king, but he is doing so with a messianic hope in view. Notice how these requests are larger than life. The first one in verse 6 says, “Prolong the life of the king.” Okay, that one could apply to David or to any king from his line. But the next line says, “may his years endure to all generations!” Now we have stepped out of the realm of a natural lifespan. And to take it one step further, he says in verse 7: “May he be enthroned forever before God.” We have moved from a long life, to a rule that spans generations, to an eternal enthronement.
When I read this, I am reminded of Peter’s comments on another psalm of David. In his Pentecost sermon, Peter quoted these words of David from Psalm 16:10: “For you will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One see corruption.” Listen to Peter’s interpretation of this verse from Acts 2:29-31: “Brothers, I may say to you with confidence about the patriarch David that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Being therefore a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him that he would set one of his descendants on his throne, he foresaw and spoke about the resurrection of the Christ, that he was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his flesh see corruption.” If we take our cues on how to interpret the Bible from the apostles, I think we must conclude that a similar dynamic is at work here in Psalm 61. David is praying for a blessing upon the king that could never be fulfilled in himself. These larger-than-life requests for an eternal rule of the Davidic king represent David’s prophetic faith that one of his descendants would overcome death itself and reign forever.
David’s final request for the king is the basis for the fulfillment of the others: “appoint steadfast love and faithfulness to watch over him!” These two terms, “steadfast love” and “faithfulness” are shorthand for God’s character expressed in his sovereign grace to Israel and, more specifically, to the house of David. God had previously promised to David in 2 Samuel 7:15 concerning David’s son, “my steadfast love will not depart from him, as I took it from Saul, whom I put away from before you.” Taking his cues from God’s promise, David prays with confidence, pleading with God to fulfill what he has already said he will do. In essence, that is what prayer is: pleading God’s promises back to him. And when we do so, we have absolutely no basis to doubt the favor of God to us, expressed in those very promises.
Now that we have seen a messianic hope introduced into the psalm, I want to raise this question: does Psalm 61 instruct us about Christ’s deliverance from death or ours? That is, should we view David here primarily as a type of Christ or as a model for believers to follow? And the answer is “yes”! David is a type of Christ, and he is a model for us to imitate in prayer. For Christ’s deliverance from death through his resurrection, anticipated by David’s prayer here, is the very deliverance that we have likewise experienced in our salvation, for as Paul declares in Ephesians 2:4-6, “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” And it is the same deliverance that will taste fully when Christ returns to call us from our graves. If we have died with him, we shall certainly live with him.
So David ends, as he often does, with a note of praise in verse 8: “So will I ever sing praises to your name, as I perform my vows day after day.” David declares confidence that he will be engaged in continuous worship when God proves himself, once again, to be a refuge, a tower, a rock, to deliver David from his affliction. And so David will worship God out of the gratitude of one who has been delivered.
Imagine the worship of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. They had many reasons to give thanks to God: for their very existence, for the abundance around them, for the blessing of dwelling in God’s presence. But there is one dimension of gratitude that we know now that they could not have known: the gratitude of one who has been delivered. They had not yet experienced the tyranny of death or the threat of divine wrath. They had not yet hung over the precipice of Hell. And we have. Yet God has snatched us out of the fire! And having seen what might have been and knowing the joy of deliverance, we have been enabled to glorify God in a way that Adam and Eve in the Garden could not have done, to worship him not only as benevolent Creator, but also as merciful Redeemer.
So what does this have to do with us having assurance of God’s favor to us when we pray? This: God’s glory is revealed in a greater way when he shows himself to be, not only a generous Creator, but also a powerful Deliverer. Therefore, his commitment to the fulfillment of his promises for our deliverance from death, from suffering, from the trenches of war in this present age, is as great as his commitment to the glory of his own name. His everlasting glory and our eternal good are bound intextricably to one another, so that for God to act for himself is to act for us, and vice versa. You may be in the trenches now, but cry out to God with confidence that his intention to deliver you is as sure as his intention to magnify his name.
In the end, what I am really saying is that we must pray from the trenches with the cross in view. In the words of Bryan Chapell, “We trust our sovereign God because he has shown us his heart at the cross. There, where any one of us would have stood and cried out, ‘This is wrong; God, you must stop this,’ our Savior made heaven’s greatest good come out of earth’s worst tragedy. At the cross we learn that God is good and can be trusted, even when everything seems wrong to human sight.”
To the bereaved parents in Newtown, Connecticut, and to a nation reeling from the most heart-wrenching school shooting in history, everything seems wrong to human sight. From a merely human standpoint, we have no reason to trust a God who did not stop such a thing from happening. But before we leap to that conclusion, let’s remember that God also knows the pain of losing a Son. Let us remember the words of John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” Cry out to the God revealed in the cross of Jesus Christ, and come to a deeper knowledge of him than you have ever known before. If you are not a believer, I exhort you with the promise of Joel 2:32 that everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved. Call out to Christ and find deliverance from the wrath that is to come. To those of you who are believers in good standing with a local church, we welcome you to partake of the bread and the cup at the Lord’s Table this morning. Come and remember once again the time when God came to us, here in the trenches, and gave himself up to death in the person of his Son to purchase our inheritance in a city where he will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.