Study Desk

Soften up, God , and intervene; hurry and get me some help, So those who are trying to kidnap my soul will be embarrassed and lose face, So anyone who gets a kick out of making me miserable will be heckled and disgraced, So those who pray for my ruin will be booed and jeered without mercy.

But all who are hunting for you— oh, let them sing and be happy. Let those who know what you're all about tell the world you're great and not quitting. And me? I'm a mess. I'm nothing and have nothing: make something of me. You can do it; you've got what it takes— but God, don't put it off.

I said, " God , be gracious! Put me together again— my sins have torn me to pieces." My enemies are wishing the worst for me; they make bets on what day I will die. If someone comes to see me, he mouths empty platitudes, All the while gathering gossip about me to entertain the street-corner crowd. These "friends" who hate me whisper slanders all over town. They form committees to plan misery for me.

A psalm of the sons of Korah A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep draughts of God. I'm thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, "Will I ever make it— arrive and drink in God's presence?" I'm on a diet of tears— tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, "Where is this God of yours?"

Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God, "Why did you let me down? Why am I walking around in tears, harassed by enemies?" They're out for the kill, these tormentors with their obscenities, Taunting day after day, "Where is this God of yours?"

Clear my name, God; stick up for me against these loveless, immoral people. Get me out of here, away from these lying degenerates. I counted on you, God. Why did you walk out on me? Why am I pacing the floor, wringing my hands over these outrageous people?

A Psalm of the Sons of Korah We've been hearing about this, God, all our lives. Our fathers told us the stories their fathers told them, How single-handedly you weeded out the godless from the fields and planted us, How you sent those people packing but gave us a fresh start. We didn't fight for this land; we didn't work for it—it was a gift! You gave it, smiling as you gave it, delighting as you gave it.

You're my King, O God— command victories for Jacob! With your help we'll wipe out our enemies, in your name we'll stomp them to dust. I don't trust in weapons; my sword won't save me— But it's you, you who saved us from the enemy; you made those who hate us lose face. All day we parade God's praise— we thank you by name over and over.

But now you've walked off and left us, you've disgraced us and won't fight for us. You made us turn tail and run; those who hate us have cleaned us out. You delivered us as sheep to the butcher, you scattered us to the four winds. You sold your people at a discount— you made nothing on the sale.

If we had forgotten to pray to our God or made fools of ourselves with store-bought gods, Wouldn't God have figured this out? We can't hide things from him. No, you decided to make us martyrs, lambs assigned for sacrifice each day.

"You're the handsomest of men; every word from your lips is sheer grace, and God has blessed you, blessed you so much. Strap your sword to your side, warrior! Accept praise! Accept due honor! Ride majestically! Ride triumphantly! Ride on the side of truth! Ride for the righteous meek! "Your instructions are glow-in-the-dark; you shoot sharp arrows Into enemy hearts; the king's foes lie down in the dust, beaten. "Your throne is God's throne, ever and always; The scepter of your royal rule measures right living. You love the right and hate the wrong. And that is why God, your very own God, poured fragrant oil on your head, Marking you out as king from among your dear companions. "Your ozone-drenched garments are fragrant with mountain breeze. Chamber music—from the throne room— makes you want to dance. Kings' daughters are maids in your court, the Bride glittering with golden jewelry. "Now listen, daughter, don't miss a word: forget your country, put your home behind you. Be here—the king is wild for you. Since he's your lord, adore him. Wedding gifts pour in from Tyre; rich guests shower you with presents." (Her wedding dress is dazzling, lined with gold by the weavers; All her dresses and robes are woven with gold. She is led to the king, followed by her virgin companions. A procession of joy and laughter! a grand entrance to the king's palace!) "Set your mind now on sons— don't dote on father and grandfather. You'll set your sons up as princes all over the earth. I'll make you famous for generations; you'll be the talk of the town for a long, long time."

class="psalm-title"> A Wedding Song of the Sons of Korah My heart bursts its banks, spilling beauty and goodness. I pour it out in a poem to the king, shaping the river into words: "You're the handsomest of men; every word from your lips is sheer grace, and God has blessed you, blessed you so much. Strap your sword to your side, warrior! Accept praise! Accept due honor! Ride majestically! Ride triumphantly! Ride on the side of truth! Ride for the righteous meek! "Your instructions are glow-in-the-dark; you shoot sharp arrows Into enemy hearts; the king's foes lie down in the dust, beaten.

"Now listen, daughter, don't miss a word: forget your country, put your home behind you. Be here—the king is wild for you. Since he's your lord, adore him. Wedding gifts pour in from Tyre; rich guests shower you with presents."

"Set your mind now on sons— don't dote on father and grandfather. You'll set your sons up as princes all over the earth. I'll make you famous for generations; you'll be the talk of the town for a long, long time."

A Song of the Sons of Korah God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake, Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains. Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God -of-Angel-Armies protects us.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God -of-Angel-Armies protects us.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God -of-Angel-Armies protects us.

This is what happens to those who live for the moment, who only look out for themselves: Death herds them like sheep straight to hell; they disappear down the gullet of the grave; They waste away to nothing— nothing left but a marker in a cemetery. But me? God snatches me from the clutch of death, he reaches down and grabs me.

"Are you listening, dear people? I'm getting ready to speak; Israel, I'm about ready to bring you to trial. This is God, your God, speaking to you. I don't find fault with your acts of worship, the frequent burnt sacrifices you offer. But why should I want your blue-ribbon bull, or more and more goats from your herds? Every creature in the forest is mine, the wild animals on all the mountains. I know every mountain bird by name; the scampering field mice are my friends. If I get hungry, do you think I'd tell you? All creation and its bounty are mine. Do you think I feast on venison? or drink draughts of goats' blood? Spread for me a banquet of praise, serve High God a feast of kept promises, And call for help when you're in trouble— I'll help you, and you'll honor me."

"Time's up for playing fast and loose with me. I'm ready to pass sentence, and there's no help in sight! It's the praising life that honors me. As soon as you set your foot on the Way, I'll show you my salvation."