Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
April 3 Devotional – Psalm 3April 3 Devotional – Psalm 3
Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Friday, April 3, 2020
Or watch video here.
Psalm 3: Is there salvation in God?
April 2 Devotional – Psalm 2April 2 Devotional – Psalm 2
Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Thursday, April 2, 2020
Or watch video here.
Psalm 2: Blessing on those who trust God’s King
After the governor of the commonwealth in which I reside issued a stay-at-home order for my county, I began a series of 10-minute daily devotionals in the Psalms for the people in my church. Each morning, those who are available log in to the web conference and hear me speak briefly about a psalm’s structure, train of thought, main point, connection to Christ, and application to the current situation. Then we pray together and go about our day.
I’ve greatly benefitted from this daily study of a psalm, so I’d like to share the fruit of it with you. Perhaps these videos will encourage you in whatever you’re facing through this unusual season. Maybe they’ll strengthen your faith in the Lord Jesus who wrote and spoke the Psalms. Maybe they’ll give you examples of how OIA Bible study methods can be quite straightforward and personal. I’ll begin posting them here daily, and we’ll see how far the Lord allows us to go into the book.
Last week, I wrote an overview of the Book of Psalms, which provides foundational information that I’ll frequently tap into as I explain each psalm. Now here is my devotional on Psalm 1.
April 1, 2020 Devotional – Psalm 1
April 1 Devotional – Psalm 1Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Wednesday, April 1, 2020
For reference:
Psalm 1—Blessing on those who delight in God’s law
Note: After the first few videos, my sound equipment and screen sharing software will improve.
Perhaps you’ve heard that no one can do anything apart from Jesus. You may have been told this saying refers to our complete reliance upon God. Or, you may have read this phrase during leadership or evangelism training, urging your frequent communication with Jesus.
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible in context—not just as a collection of memorable phrases—we’ll find that some familiar verses take on richer and deeper meanings.
The phrase “apart from me you can do nothing” is just a portion of John 15:5. This is part of a long conversation Jesus has with his disciples on the evening of the Last Supper, after Judas departs (John 13:30). Jesus tells them he is the vine and his father is the vinedresser (John 15:1); God takes away branches that do not bear fruit, and he prunes every fruit-bearing branch (John 15:2).
Because of their parallel nature, we need to read John 15:4 and John 15:5 together.
Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:4–5)
In the immediate context, “you can do nothing” is related to “bear[ing] fruit” and “apart from me” stands opposite to “abide in me and I in him.” We cannot know Jesus’s full meaning in John 15:5 without understanding “abiding” and “bearing fruit.”
In one way, the metaphor of the vine and branches makes clear the meaning of “abide.” Branches draw nourishment and life from the vine; without that connection, they die.
Abiding in Jesus is not an extra level of discipleship—it is essential! He is life itself; anyone who does not abide in Jesus is thrown away like a branch from the vine and burned (John 15:6).
Abiding in Jesus is also connected to both Jesus’s words and his love. If anyone abides in Jesus, his words abide in them, and their prayers will be answered (John 15:7). Jesus tells the disciples not just to abide in him but to abide in his love (John 15:9). He then explains what this means—if the disciples keep Jesus’s commandments, they will abide in his love (John 15:10). Jesus teaches this not as a burdensome duty but so their joy will be full (John 15:11).
We should also notice the similarity between the words “abide” and “abode,” or dwelling. Unfortunately, some translations obscure this link. Jesus is going to prepare a place for his disciples in his father’s house (dwelling); he wants them to be where he is (John 14:2–3). He speaks of his connection with the father as “the father abiding in me” (John 14:10, NASB). Throughout this discourse, Jesus’s relationship with his disciples shares many features of his relationship with his father.
Any disciple that wants to bear fruit must abide in Jesus and Jesus must abide in them (John 15:5). This mutual abiding, along with the other context summarized above, points to a unity, knowledge, obedience, and love that is life-sustaining and supernatural.
As with abiding, bearing fruit goes hand-in-hand with following Jesus. Jesus says that bearing fruit is the way a person proves to be a disciple (John 15:8). In the metaphor of the vine and branches, bearing fruit is what normal, healthy branches do.
If anyone loves Jesus, they will keep his commandments (John 14:15), and thus we see a connection between bearing fruit and keeping Jesus’s commands. Jesus knows that we need help in this calling, which is why he promises to send “another helper”—the Holy Spirit (John 14:16). The Spirit abides with the disciples and will be in them (John 14:17, NASB).
We see this essential link between love, obedience, and the presence of God in John 14:23.
Jesus answered and said to him, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our abode with him.” (John 14:23, NASB)
So bearing fruit is a Spirit-powered yet normal part of being a disciple of Jesus. And it happens as we abide in, love, and obey Jesus.
Apart from Jesus we can do nothing. When we read this verse in context we see that Jesus is not primarily warning against self-reliance nor dismissing the contributions of non-Christians. Yes, he is drawing a sharp line between those who follow him and those who do not. But this is a call to life.
Those connected to the vine are animated by the life-giving Spirit, and they are fruit-bearing by nature. Apart from the vine, there is no nutrition, no life, no fruit.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I would like to present a series of overviews with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
This post brings us to the book of Psalms.
The Book of Psalms has a straightforward and obvious structure, which, until only the last few years, I had trained myself to completely ignore. But I have come to see how fundamental this structure is to the message of the book.
Many editions of the Bible identify the structure with the headings “Book One,” “Book Two,” and so forth, up to “Book Five.” These divisions are of ancient origin and ought to be taken seriously as we study the book.
Some Jewish rabbis believed this five-book division was meant to be parallel to the five books of Moses. In this way, they held up the Psalms as being nearly as important as the law of Moses. They saw this collection of poems painting a picture of the lives and community of the people in covenant with Yahweh.
This five-book structure is reinforced within the book itself by means of doxologies at the end of each book. These statements of praise burst out and punctuate the end of the book. Sometimes, they don’t even fit directly with the poems they follow. Just look at the last verses of the last psalms in each book.
Book 1 (Ps 41:13):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting!
Amen and Amen.
Book 2 (Ps 72:18-19):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
who alone does wondrous things.
Blessed be his glorious name forever;
may the whole earth be filled with his glory!
Amen and Amen!
Book 3 (Ps 89:52):
Blessed be the Lord forever!
Amen and Amen.
Book 4 (Ps 106:48):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting!
And let all the people say, “Amen!”
Praise the Lord!
Book 5 draws out its ending beyond a brief doxology. Did you notice how the doxologies quoted above all focus on blessing Yahweh, the God of Israel? Psalm 145 appears to conclude the body of Book 5 by picking up on that idea of blessing the name of Yahweh as the theme of the entire poem. Notice how it begins (Ps 145:1-3) and ends (Ps 145:21) with this idea.
That poem therefore transitions into the five-poem conclusion (Psalms 146-150), where each of the psalms begin and end with a command to praise Yahweh: “Hallelujah!”—translated as “Praise the LORD!” (Ps 146:1, 10; 147:1, 20, etc.).
The Book of Psalms is the Old Testament book most quoted in the New Testament. Psalms are directly quoted (with a formula such as “it is written”) 68 times.
Of those 68 citations, only 14 occurrences refer to the life experiences of God’s people, putting the words of the songs and prayers of the Psalms on the lips of the people themselves. And of those 14 citations, 6 are found in Romans 3:10-18, where Paul stitches together a selection of quotations involving sinful body parts into a composite picture of sinful humanity under the judgment of God’s law. So at most, we could say that there are only 8 times when the New Testament quotes the Psalms the way we usually quote the Psalms: as songs or prayers of the people of God.
So, besides those 8 times when people are singing or praying the psalms directly, and the 6 times when they describe the sinful estate of humanity, we’re left with 54 times when the Psalms are quoted and directly applied to the person or work of Jesus Christ, acting as a representative of his Father in heaven.
Sometimes, the words of the Psalms are put right on the lips of Jesus Christ. An obvious example is found when Jesus hung on the cross and cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1). But there are numerous less-memorable examples as well (Heb 2:11-12 quoting Ps 22:22, Rom 15:8-9 quoting Ps 18:49).
Jesus himself puts a psalm in his own mouth when he describes what he will say on the day of judgment to those who think they had done mighty works in his name: “Depart from me, you workers of lawlessness” (Matt 7:23 alluding to Ps 6:8).
So as we read the Psalms, we must first of all see the Lord Jesus in every poem. Some of the poems are about him. Others pave the way for him. And many of these poems anticipate his own experiences. When we read “I” and “me” in the Psalms, we ought not to think first of ourselves as the “I.” More often than not, we ought to think of the Lord Jesus as the “I.” Yes, we can sing and pray these poems. But above all, the New Testament tells us that Jesus sings and prays these poems as he goes about the work his Father has appointed for him to do.
In writing this, I’m not setting up a dichotomy, as though we can’t or shouldn’t sing or pray the Psalms ourselves. Of course we should! I’m only saying that the reason we sing and pray the Psalms is not because they resonate with our experience. We sing and pray the Psalms because they resonate with Jesus’ experience. And we have been so closely united to Christ through faith, and by the power of God’s Holy Spirit, that we can’t help but share his experience. We suffer with him so we may be glorified with him (Rom 8:17). God has called us to be conformed to the image of his Son (Rom 8:29).
So we sing and pray the Psalms because our Lord Jesus sings and prays the Psalms. We who believe are in him.
Psalms 1 and 2 serve as an introduction to the book, pronouncing a blessing on all who delight in God’s word (Ps 1:1-2) and take refuge in God’s king (Ps 2:12). These twin themes—God’s word and God’s king—are the guiding principles of the rest of the poems in this book.
Book 1 takes place during the reign of David (almost every poem here is attributed to him). This collection shows the king facing tremendous opposition. This collection has proportionally more laments and requests for help than later books. And at the book’s center, we find twin reflections on—you guessed it—God’s word (Ps 19) and God’s king (Ps 20).
Book 2 begins to move past David, as the first set of poems are written by other poets (Psalms 42-50). These poems get us looking beyond David for a king who will unite all nations in worship of Yahweh. The collection concludes with a poem attributed to Solomon (Psalm 72), describing the earth-wide reign of a king to come who is greater than David.
Books 3 and 4 take place during the exile in Babylon. Many of these poems lament the desolation of the promised land and the sanctuary. In this collection, the people wrestle with the fact that their king is absent and appears to have been defeated. Book 3 ends with a direct appeal to God: Have you forgotten your promises to David (Psalm 89)?
Book 4 shows a renewed servant-king who leads the people to remember God’s perfect law, even while they’re still scattered abroad. This collection ends with lessons from Israel’s history (Psalm 106) and a desire to see God one day restore his people in their land (Ps 106:4-5).
Book 5 ends on a triumphant note. The once-rejected king has now risen up in victory to celebrate Yahweh’s enduring covenant love back in the land of promise (Ps 118, 136). This book was likely compiled after the people had returned from Babylon and had rejuvenated their festivals and sacrifices. As I mentioned earlier, this collection concludes the entire Book with commands to praise the Lord (“Hallelujah!”). The book’s last word is: “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord!” (Ps 150:6).
So the Book of Psalms is really the memoirs (written in advance) of God’s Messiah, the Chosen King of the Jews. His memoirs tell the story of the entire people of Israel. He lives out their story in his own life. And from where we stand, looking back, we no longer live, but Christ lives in us. We live our lives united to his. This is why the apostles looked so often to the Psalms when they wanted to explain the work of Jesus Christ. And this is why the Psalms are rightfully beloved by each generation of believers in Christ down to the present time.
For expansion on the ideas in this post, I recommend Psalms 1-41: Rejoice the Lord is King by James Johnston, the overview article on Psalms by James Hely Hutchinson in the NIV Proclamation Bible, and the Bible Project video on the Psalms. I am indebted to all three works in the shaping of my thinking for this post.
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While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I would like to present a series of overviews with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
I come now to the book of Exodus.
I spent over a year on this blog studying my way through the complete book of Exodus. You can find the contents of that series on this page. In that series, you’ll find the material in this post expanded on and demonstrated from each portion of text.
The chief markers of literary division in Exodus are the shifts in genre and style. These markers are rather obvious, to the point that people sometimes examine only one of the book’s divisions. The trick is to figure out how things flow from one division to the next.
Chapters 1-18 consist of epic narratives, interrupted only by a brief genealogy in chapter 6 and a lengthy poem in chapter 15. Yet the setting and focus of the narratives after the poem are starkly different from the narratives before the poem. We ought to see the poem of chapter 15 as the resolution to the conflict of the book’s first division. This leaves the narratives of chapters 16-18 as either a new division, or a transition to the following division.
Though chapter 19 is also narrative, the setting—with the people finally at Mt. Sinai—clearly fits together with the law codes and covenant ceremony of chapters 20-24. Chapters 25-40 consist of tabernacle details (first instruction, then construction), divided by the narratives of covenant rending and repair in chapters 32-34.
Therefore, the book has three main divisions: Narratives of rescue (Ex 1-15), narratives of preparation (Ex 16-18), and discourses on law, covenant, and tabernacle (Ex 19-40).
The book’s introduction (Ex 1) sets the stage for the blessed children of Israel enjoying the blessings of covenant with their God expressed through their fruitful multiplying. Enter a new king who forgets Joseph and feels threatened by Israel’s multiplication. He attempts to quash the power of God in three phases: burdening Israel’s labor (Ex 1:11-14), murdering their sons (Ex 1:15-21), and drowning their sons (Ex 1:22).
Yahweh, of course, remembers his covenant (even if the king forgets Joseph), and he must do something about the situation. His solution has two aspects: raising up a mediator (Ex 2:1-7:7), and executing judgment (Ex 7:8-15:21).
Exodus 2:1-7:7 show us the appointment and training of the mediator. This mediator launches a campaign of deliverance, but the people reject him; so he turns from them (Ex 2). Yahweh calls him back (Ex 3:1-4:17) and makes him like his brothers in every way (Ex 4:18-31). Things must then get even worse (Ex 5:1-21) so the people can see that what they need is not only a political mediator but a faithful and merciful high priest (Ex 5:22-7:7).
With all these things in place, rescue can proceed and be shown to be all of God. His glory must fill the earth. And Yahweh’s rescue results when he returns the king of Egypt’s tactics from chapter 1 back on his own head. Yahweh burden’s Egypt’s labor (Ex 7:8-10:29). He kills their sons (Ex 11:1-13:16). He drowns their sons (Ex 13:17-14:31).
The demolishing of the house of slavery warrants reflection in song (Ex 15:1-21). There is no other god who can so cast down his enemies and lift up his covenant people. This God is a God who judges and rescues.
Everything shifts beginning with Ex 15:22, as Egypt is no longer in the picture. It is not enough for Yahweh to demolish the house of slavery. He must also prepare to rebuild his people.
Therefore, the Lord uses a sequence of events to expose how much his people need his instruction. They cannot simply be freedmen; they must submit to a benevolent Master.
The Lord gives instructions, in the face of the people’s physical needs, to expose how distrustful and disobedient they are—and therefore undeserving of his fatherly care (Ex 15:22-17:7). He wants their highest and most public loyalty to be to him alone (Ex 17:8-16). And he sends messengers to help them constantly remember their deliverance and to look to his instruction alone for new life (Ex 18:1-27). This God is a God worth trusting and obeying.
The final, and longest, part of the book alternates two themes in four sections: covenant, tabernacle, covenant, tabernacle. Through such alternation, we see Yahweh finally building his true house—the community of his covenant people.
First, the covenant is made (Ex 19-24). God wants to make something special out of an undeserving people (Ex 19). So he establishes a treaty, inspiring them to fear, so they might draw near to him (Ex 20). He then architects a social paradise that will stand out among the world’s nations (Ex 21-23), and he draws these people close through the blood of a substitute (Ex 24).
Second, the tabernacle instruction (Ex 25-31). Yahweh re-creates heaven on earth, packing up the holy mountain for transport through pictures embedded in furniture (Ex 25:1-27:19), priesthood (Ex 27:20-30:38), and sabbath rest (Ex 31). Seven speeches, climaxing in spirit-filled humans and sabbath rest. New Creation.
Third, the covenant is rent and repaired (Ex 32-34). The main thing at stake here is whether it will ever work out for heaven to come to earth, for God to dwell with men and remain with them (Ex 32). Sinners will always need not only forgiveness of their sins but also reconciliation to their God (Ex 33). And the glory of Yahweh’s covenant cohabitation is even more glorious after the fall than it was before (Ex 34:1-28). But how long will it really last (Ex 34:29-35)?
Fourth, back to tabernacle construction (Ex 35-40). The new covenant people, redeemed and reconciled after terrible ruin, are staggeringly empowered for outrageous obedience to their God (Ex 35-39). And when Yahweh finally moves in with them, we know it’s the real deal (Ex 40). But it’s not yet the end. Something is still lacking…
This God is a God who builds his own house in and with his people.
Pharaoh’s question to Moses is a perfect statement of the purpose of Exodus: “Who is Yahweh, that I should obey his voice?” (Ex 5:2). The very design of the book is to answer that question by showing us exactly who Yahweh is and why we ought to obey him. He is the one who demolishes the house of slavery, who prepares his people to rebuild, and who builds his own house in the midst of his people. The glory of redemption is greater than that of pre-Fall creation. This is why the Messiah must suffer and rise from the dead (Luke 24:26-27).
Instead of having three or four disparate divisions—independent of one another and to be studied apart from one another—the book of Exodus has a coherent message from beginning to end.
For more interpretive walkthroughs of books of the Bible, click here.
This post begins a series of Bible book overviews. While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I write this series with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
Many have observed that the narrator of Genesis organizes his material by citing his sources (“These are the generations of” or “This is the account of,” depending on the translation). He makes eleven such statements, though most agree that the two resulting sections of chapter 36 are so similar as to belong together. The eleven statements are in Genesis 2:4, 5:1, 6:9, 10:1, 11:9, 11:27, 25:12, 25:19, 36:1, 36:9, and 37:2. Combining the two sections of chapter 36 results in 10 literary subsections.
In addition almost every commentator wants to divide the book into two major divisions: Genesis 1:1-11:26 and Genesis 11:27-50:26. (Though for shorthand, we typically call the divisions Gen 1-11 and Gen 12-50.) Combining this insight with the one in the previous paragraph shows us that Part 1 and Part 2 each have 5 sections.
Such literary observation matters, because our interpretation must be rooted in careful observation. And it yields important insights into the argument.
For example, everyone tends to understand that Part 2 of Genesis (chapters 12-50) zeroes in on a single family, a relatively small cast of characters. And following the literary divisions, we see which characters are given greatest prominence.
By tracing that literary focus of each section, we see that there is one character who, despite having tremendous theological importance, has far less literary importance to the flow of the book. That figure is Isaac.
Since the first “generations” statement occurs in Gen 2:4, we see that Gen 1:1-2:3 serves primarily as an introduction to the whole book. In that introduction, God’s creative work establishes a pattern for human dominion of the earth. This pattern communicates that humanity realizes its potential when it illuminates, shapes, and fills the earth in God’s name.1
In the rest of Part 1, we see two cycles of human failure to realize this potential.
In the first cycle, Adam fails to adequately illuminate his wife regarding the instructions of God in the garden (Gen 2-3). He does not trust God’s word, but seeks to elevate himself to God’s position without submitting to God’s authority. Then Cain fails to shape the outer regions by putting things in the right categories (Gen 4). True/false, righteous/wicked, acceptable/repulsive, and life/death all get reversed as he wrestles with his brother out of jealousy and loses. Then the sons of God fail to fill the earth the way God intended, instead parodying the mandate by filling the earth with their own progeny of selfishness and impure or unnatural intermarriage (Gen 6:1-8).
This leads to a cosmic reboot. God judges humanity through a great flood (Gen 7), and he recreates the earth through a sequence of events parallel to the initial creation in chapter 1 (Gen 8). This results in a new mandate given to a new Man, working the ground in a more glorious garden—now a vineyard (Gen 9).
This launches the second cycle of failures. Instead of illuminating the world with God’s word, Ham seeks to seize control through his own vile plans and rebellion against authority (Gen 9:22-27). Instead of shaping the world in God’s name and for God’s glory, Nimrod becomes a mighty hunter (of men?) and shapes the world into his own kingdoms, for his own glory (Gen 10:8-12). Instead of filling the earth with more submissive worshipers, the sons of Joktan ideologically intermarry with Nimrod and try to fill the earth with the glory of their own name (Gen 10:25-30, 11:1-4).
This leads to a second cosmic reboot. God judges humanity by confusing their language, scattering them over the face of the earth, leaving their work unfinished, and refusing to even put their names into the narration of their judgment (Gen 11:5-9). Joktan ends up being cut out of the genealogy of God’s people, and his brother Peleg takes his place (Gen 11:16-19).
So chapter 1 prepares us to expect patterns and cycles. And the cycles reinforce both the priority of humanty’s creation mandate and their failure to live it out.
We ought to ask how Part 2 will further advance these themes.
As noted above, Part 2 of Genesis consists primarily of three epic stories: the tales of Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph. In between, we have brief interludes showing the multiplication of the non-chosen seed, the unappointed brothers (first Ishmael, then Esau).
Abraham’s epic (Gen 11:27-25:11) shows us, though not without flaw, a man who trusts God’s word and submits to his authority. Abram “believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness” (Gen 15:6). Though not without flaw, Abraham is the positive foil (contrast) to the failures of Adam and Ham. He generally shows us what it looks like to love God with all our heart.
Jacob’s epic (Gen 25:19-35:29) shows us, though not without flaw, a man who wrestles with brothers and extended family, yet without resorting to insane jealousy or murder. Though Jacob typically gets significant negative press in recent generations, we must recognize God’s own assessment of him: “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed” (Gen 32:28). He generally shows us, in contrast to Cain and Nimrod, what it looks like to wrestle our way through situations where the people around us are doing the wrong thing.
Joseph’s epic (Gen 37:2-50:26) shows us, by and large, a man who is thrust out into the world but remains unstained by it. He refuses to adopt the godless practices and hopelessness of the world around him, and he will not join the wicked in their attempts at self-glorifying world-domination. In the process, God blesses him with extraordinary influence, and a mighty reputation. He is the positive contrast to the sons of God and the sons of Joktan.
Genesis is a book of beginnings and new beginnings. The pattern of chapter 1 establishes an expectation of illuminating, shaping, and filling on the part of humanity, in submissive imitation of their Creator. But each time God starts over, his human creatures seem to find new ways of botching the affair.
That is, until the Lord makes a covenant with his chosen family. In his grace, he calls them to himself and empowers them to meet with (some) success.
The hope of Genesis is that the chosen people can, in fact, learn to honor him in the midst of a cruel world. They can love their God (illuminate), love their neighbors (shape), and make disciples of all nations (fill).
And each time they screw it up, it’s not the end of the story. God himself will find a way to make it possible for them to begin again. Then again (Gal 4:3-5). Then again (2 Cor 4:6-7).
1. For a defense of this main point, see the comprehensive study of Genesis 1:1-2:3 in my book Knowable Word.↩
Perhaps you’ve heard that Christians need to taste and see that the Lord is good, that God’s blessings extend to all of our senses. Maybe you’ve been given this encouragement in the context of celebrating the Lord’s Supper or as a reminder that God cares for your body. You may even have been told that “taste and see” means that God wants you to have all of the material blessings you can name.
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible as a whole—not as a collection of disjointed sentences and phrases ready for posters and sermon titles—we’ll find that some familiar expressions have deeper meanings than we thought.
The phrase “taste and see that the Lord is good” comes from the middle of Psalm 34.
Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!
Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!
Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints,
for those who fear him have no lack!
The young lions suffer want and hunger;
but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing. (Psalm 34:8–10)
In the immediate context, tasting and seeing God’s goodness is tied to taking refuge in him; this is the path to blessedness (Ps. 34:8). Saints who fear the Lord will lack no good thing (Ps. 34:9–10).
Just after these verses, David (the psalm’s author) mentions one of these “good things.”
What man is there who desires life
and loves many days, that he may see good? (Ps. 34:12)
This is what seeking the Lord must look like for anyone who wants a long life.
Keep your tongue from evil
and your lips from speaking deceit.
Turn away from evil and do good;
seek peace and pursue it. (Ps. 34:13–14)
Just as we must not ignore the immediate context of Psalm 34:8, we also must not ignore the larger picture. When we read the entire psalm, we see the Lord’s goodness everywhere.
We often spiritualize the psalms, reasoning that the psalmist was facing military and physical threat while our dangers are moral or spiritual. But David wrote “taste and see” in the middle of this psalm for a reason.
David experienced the Lord’s goodness with his senses, in real life. God’s nearness, his deliverance, his salvation, his redemption, his hearing and answering—and consequently David’s crying out, looking to God, seeking God, and taking refuge in him—were just as real as honey on David’s tongue or the altar in front of David’s face.
And the goodness of the Lord is just as available to us as it was to King David.
If we’re honest, we’d like the Lord’s goodness to eliminate all sickness, hardship, and want. But that is not reality in Psalm 34.
We see both from this psalm and from David’s life that turning to God does not ensure a life of trouble-free blessing thereafter. Psalm 34 is written to/for “saints of the Lord” (Ps. 34:9), so all the difficulties mentioned above come to God’s people. This is highlighted in the psalm itself: “Many are the afflictions of the righteous” (Ps. 34:19).
David, even as the anointed of the Lord, faced enormous hardship and threats to his life. In the introduction to Psalm 34 he references 1 Samuel 21:10–15. As David fled from Saul, he went to the king of Gath. But news of David’s military success preceded him, so he faked madness to save his life. And it worked! David cried for help, and the Lord heard him and delivered him (Ps. 34.17).
I had two questions before digging into this psalm: What does it mean that the Lord is good? How do we experience the Lord’s goodness?
The answers to both questions, from a detailed look at this psalm, are clear. When we seek God in humility, he answers and delivers us.
Seeking God in humility is difficult. It means admitting that we are poor (Ps. 34:6) and that we have fears and troubles beyond our ability (Ps. 34:17). Taking refuge in God and learning the fear of the Lord also have dramatic implications for our lives: we boast in the Lord (Ps. 34:2) and bless him at all times (Ps. 34:1), we keep our tongues from evil (Ps. 34:13), and we turn from evil and pursue peace (Ps. 34:14).
But the reward is far greater than the cost. “None of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.” Given what we deserve and what we are promised, this is the best news in the world! Even in the middle of this Old Testament book of prayers and songs, we see the work of Jesus—condemned in the place of his people.
So, while “taste and see” has no contextual reference to the Lord’s Supper, and no promise of material blessings, this psalm teaches that God’s people experience his deliverance with their senses. In our actual bodies, God delivers us, he saves us, he hears us, and he is near to us.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
After completing my annual speed-read of the Bible, I like to follow Joe Carter’s plan for how to change your mind. Carter’s plan is simply to select a book of the Bible, read it 20 times in a row, and then move on to another book and do the same. After following that plan for 3 years, I’ve covered 20 books of the Bible, alternating between shorter books and longer ones. This discipline has been the most effective practice I’ve ever followed to help me master these books.
And for most of 2020, I’ve decided to tackle the third-longest book of the Bible: Psalms. (I already covered the second-longest, Genesis, in 2017. The first-longest, Jeremiah, still glares at me threateningly from an undisclosed rendezvous in my future timeline.)
To help me grasp the book’s ebbs and flows, and to prevent too much sensation of swimming in molasses, I’ve decided to consume the book of Psalms according to its five subdivisions, called “books.” Most Bibles will put headings over those five books: Psalms 1-41, 42-73, 74-89, 90-106, and 107-150.
So for now, I’m reading only Psalms 1-41 repeatedly (about to finish my 11th repetition). After 20 times there, I’ll move on to Book II, and so on.
I’m creating a spreadsheet to help me analyze the psalms and the book’s larger structure. You can find the fruit of my labors here. (I’ll also post it on the blog’s Resources page, so you can easily find it in the future.)
On the spreadsheet, I’m tracking every ascription and description given for a psalm. I’m also tracking every psalm that uses the term “psalm,” “choirmaster,” or “selah.”
But besides such trivia, I’m also tracking which psalms are acrostics (where each verse or stanza begins with a subsequent letter of the Hebrew alphabet), what sort of poem each psalm is, which NT verses directly quote from each psalm.
And above all, I’m recording what I believe to be the main point of each psalm. My purpose in doing this is not to erase or ignore the nature of the poetry, which is typically intended to be felt and pondered and not merely reduced to a logical proposition. My purpose is simply to recognize that each psalm is profitable for teaching, correcting, reproving, and/or training in righteousness (2 Tim 3:16). And when I’m feeling especially discouraged about a particular sin that doesn’t seem to go away—to give a practical example—I would like the spreadsheet to help me remember the psalm whose primary purpose is to ask God not to discipline me in anger as my sin deserves. (In case you’re wondering, it’s Psalm 38.)
The biggest lesson for me so far is that the Psalms are clearly arranged with intention. This is no random assortment of devotional poems. The five books of Psalms have been set in their order to communicate a number of overarching themes designed to infect the prayer and worship of God’s people. To give only one example of the purposeful arrangement, notice how Book I has four psalms with an acrostic structure (marked in column H of the spreadsheet). No other Book has an acrostic, until Book V, which also has exactly four. This can’t be a coincidence.
For a brief, yet brilliant, take on the book of Psalms see the Bible Project video below. While I differ with them on a few details, I find their broad insight into the book quite stimulating. These guys are the ones who set me down the path of seeing the intentionality behind the book’s arrangement.
With respect to Book I, I was intrigued by the proposal that Psalms 15-24 make up an extended chiasm (a structure where the second half is a mirror image in parallel to the first half). As I have dug into these psalms myself, I can’t help but wonder whether the chiasm extends out all the way to Psalms 3-35. I’ve color-coded the parallel pairs in the spreadsheet.
Many commentators, not only those at The Bible Project, agree that Psalms 1-2 provide an introduction to the entire book. This introductions establishes a blessing on those who 1) hold fast to God’s Word and 2) submit to God’s King. I find it unsurprising that the center of the Book I chiasm consists of Psalms 19 & 20, which have the same pair of themes.
Not all proposed pairings are self-evident. But many are uncanny. For example, in Psalm 4, David asks God to answer him when he calls (Psalm 4:1), and in Psalm 34, David praises God for hearing him when he called (Psalm 34:6).
This leads to another insight I’ve gleaned, which is that there is clear movement over the course of the book. Each psalm, and even subsets of verses of a psalm, could be read or prayed in isolation as an act of worship (here are two examples). But at the same time, there is a broad movement over the course of the book that is worth following.
For example, consider only Book I. After introducing the main themes of the book in Psalms 1-2 (blessing on the one who trusts God’s Word and God’s King), the editor presents 39 psalms connected—with only one exception—to David. And in these psalms, we see a high percentage of laments and requests for help from persecution (19 psalms). Intertwined throughout are occasional psalms of praise or blessing (13 psalms). But most of the “praise” psalms even focus on praise for the opportunity to request help when life is tough (Psalms 9-10, 18, 21, 30, 33, 34, 40).
The first praise psalm (Psalm 8) is about how God set a human to reign as king over creation against God’s enemies. And the last praise psalm (Psalm 40) gives thanks for past deliverance in order to request further deliverance in the future (Ps 40:13-17). The rejoicing over past deliverance flows right out of the requests in Psalms 36-39. And the request for future deliverance sets up the Book’s final psalm (Psalm 41), which is as much a confession of faith as a lament over poor circumstances. “Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble Yahweh delivers him” (Ps 41:1).
Putting it together, we see the following flow of thought through Book I:
This leaves us wondering whether Book II might suggest what is that “something more.”
Perhaps you’ve heard that Jesus didn’t just come to give life, he came to give abundant life. You may have seen teachers urge that Christians should not be poor, should not be sad, should not be sick, should not be lacking in any blessings God can give. After all, how does a less than existence match up with an abundant life?
When we learn to read the Bible properly—not as a series of isolated words and phrases—we find that some familiar phrases take on entirely new meanings.
Jesus uses the “abundant life” phrase to a group of Pharisees in John 10. Importantly, these Pharisees gathered after a controversy surrounding Jesus’s healing of a blind man.
In John 9:1–7, Jesus comes across a man born blind. He anoints the man’s eyes with mud, tells him to go wash in the pool of Siloam, and the man comes back with sight. This starts several rounds of questioning from the Pharisees directed at both this man and his parents. No one wants to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah for fear of the Jews (John 9:22).
However, the man’s life has been changed so dramatically, he cannot help himself. He tells the Pharisees that this man is clearly from God, and the Pharisees cast him out (John 9:33–34). Jesus seeks out the man again, and he confesses Jesus as Lord (John 9:38). The purpose of the healing is realized; the miracle points back to Jesus.
Jesus launches into an extended figure of speech that leaves the Pharisees confused.
Jesus first tells the Pharisees about the shepherd of the sheep. The sheep will follow the shepherd, because they know his voice. But they will not follow a stranger with a strange voice (John 10:1–6).
Since this first use of a sheep/shepherd metaphor is confusing, Jesus reloads. He uses different metaphors.
So Jesus again said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture.” (John 10:7–9)
And then we arrive at the verse in question.
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. (John 10:10)
It’s quite natural, after hearing this, to ask: What does it look like to have life abundantly? John (and Jesus) anticipates this question, because the answer comes quickly.
I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. (John 10:11–15)
Having an abundant life means having a good shepherd!
Plenty of employees can perform simple tasks for the sheep, but they don’t care for the sheep at all. They will save their own skin when the wolf howls. But Jesus is so, so different. He is the good shepherd. He knows his sheep, and he lays down his life for his sheep.
Notice that nowhere in this passage do we see a discussion of money, large houses, swimming pools, or everlasting youth. The way Jesus uses this phrase has nothing to do with material possessions or anything doctors or therapists can offer. He intends something much better.
Jesus came to give himself for his sheep. He calls his sheep, and they perk up their ears and follow him because they recognize his voice. With the good shepherd the sheep will find pasture, shelter, and safety.
Jesus is quite comfortable at the center of this metaphor. Both his healings and his figures of speech point people back to him.
Many sheep are used to thieves and wolves in the field. But with a good shepherd, the sheep have a guide and friend who loves them. He knows them, and they know him. And this—this is abundant life.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
