This psalm covers some ground. The Philistines were enemies of the Jews. In one of their fights the Philistines stole the ark—the box filled with things to remind the Jews of their covenant with God. (Here’s a tip: don’t steal the ark; bad things happen). They reckon this psalm was sung by the Israelites when they were in a big procession bringing the ark back to it’s rightful place.
Psalm 68 opens by talking about God and what he does for people. Then it goes on to recount God leading his people out of Egypt — and there are some gory details. The psalm then elaborates more about who God is and what his people did during their procession with the ark. And it wraps with a big call to everyone: Praise God for what he’s done!
This psalm isn’t completely macabre. Far from it: there are bits about God putting lonely people in families, scattering enemies, bringing rain in abundance, defending widows and fathering the fatherless. But every psalm I get to reflect on seems to be one where there is a liberal dose of God getting medieval on people. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
It does resonate. My heart and mind get more worked up about God in a thunderstorm than a sunset. It’s not that I have a low view of sunsets: it’s that when others are freaking out in a storm, I want to worship Jesus. This psalm uses big, scary pictures of God: people being blown away like smoke, like wax melting before a candle; the Lord crushing the heads of enemies, bringing up dead enemies so feet can wade in the blood of foes.
It makes sense: aside from Jesus that’s what I deserve. As someone who bears the image of God, there are ways in which I’ve “stolen the ark of the covenant”, taken it places it shouldn’t have gone, done things I shouldn’t have done, willfully pursued my agenda in rebellion to God’s… Medieval is a just response from God.
But there’s one verse that keeps grabbing me. Verse 17 talks about the journey of the ark from Sinai to its final resting place in Jerusalem on a hill called Zion. Verse 18 reads:
18 When you ascended on high,
you took many captives;
you received gifts from people,
even from the rebellious—
that you, LORD God, might dwell there.
It’s that little line about God receiving gifts even from the rebellious. Amidst the carnage and enemy-destruction, the righteous judgement and the blood… If you’re a rebel who sees God for who he is and responds rightly, God can make it so that you’re in on the party. Here’s the rub: none of us is righteous. I’m meditating on how I’m rebellious and how God is merciful and gracious to accept anything from me, even to dwell with me.
Gidiup!
– Brad Birt