Psalm 72 is all about legacy.
Spurgeon reflected popular scholarship when he attributed the authorship of Psalm 72 to Solomon. It carries Solomon’s inscription at the top (depending on your translation) but verse 20 makes that assumption a little confusing.
Spurgeon considered that this was a ‘prayer of David’ but a ‘psalm of Solomon’. That is to say that this is likely a prayer verbalised by an ageing King passing on his crown to his son, Solomon in the most gracious and powerful fashion: in prayer.
The first time I read Psalm 72 I thought there was very little in there for us in 2011. It’s about a Jewish Dad cheering on his boy for the future. A Dad who wants the absolute best for his son’s kingly reign, for his son’s subjects, for his son’s nation. He prays for his rule, his spiritual journey, his enemies and his care for the needy. He prays that the people will pray for him and uphold him in his reign. And he praises God for his mighty deeds and for God’s glory that he prays will fill the earth.
What’s in a Psalm like this then? Absolutely everything. If you’ve got a child, a niece, a nephew; if you know a young child who’s part of the church you’re a part of (!), then this psalm is a big deal.
What does David pray for Solomon? Abundantly more than he ever enjoyed as King himself. Here’s a guy who was continually hunted before he became King and always seems to be pursued by enemies during his reign and what’s he praying? He’s praying peace. He’s praying for loyal support and a mighty and just reign of power.
I’ve been on a tirade of biographies and autobiographies while I’ve been away. The fourth cab of the rank is an autobiography on Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy). I’m only one chapter into this one, but I was amazed at the lineage of Bonhoeffer. In every direction, there were people of power, intellect, public office and high regard. The author makes this keen observation at one point:
“The family trees of Paula and Karl Bonhoeffer are everywhere so laden with figures of accomplishment that one might expect future generations to be burdened by it all. But the welter of wonderfulness that was their heritage seems to have been a boon, one that buoyed them up so that each child seems to have not only to have stood on the shoulders of giants, but also danced on them.”
What a brilliant legacy! To not only have shoulders that let others see further, but have shoulders on which future generations can dance.
David wanted Solomon to dance. We was praying for a long and wonderful dance. And prayer was the currency of his encouragement.
What can we learn form Psalm 72? Here’s one thing I learn: leaving a legacy is about other-centeredness. You can’t be praying for those that will receive your baton if you’re not thinking about them. You can’t be grooming and equipping them if you’re not taking your eyes of yourself to equip them, grow them and disciple them. And you can’t be truly allowing others to dance if you have any qualms about them enjoying success you haven’t, and not enduring hardship that you have!
Other-centeredness is how Jesus lived. Other-centeredness took him to a cross so that we would not only have life but have it more abundantly. For the joy set before him, he endured the cross and is now seated at the right hand of God.
Are you leaving a legacy? And if you haven’t, when can you start?