Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
John Piper was recently asked this question, and his answer is fantastic.
1. Do you believe Psalm 119:99?
2. How will you test the reliability of your teachers by the word of God?
3. Why do you want to avoid the immediate, authentic experience of savoring your love letter by asking someone else to read it for you?
Of course, this is only the summary. His full answer is worth your consideration.
In 1874, Russian composer Modest Mussourgsky gifted the world with a musical masterpiece, composed in honor of his dearly and untimely departed friend, the artist Viktor Hartmann. The piece, originally written for piano but later orchestrated by Maurice Ravel, is known as Pictures at an Exhibition. Its ten movements each seek to depict one of Hartmann’s paintings, which had been gathered for public display in his memory. At the work’s beginning, and four additional times throughout, Mussourgsky inserted a “Promenade,” to represent the art-lover ambling from exhibit to exhibit.
What Pictures at an Exhibition is to the paintings of Viktor Hartmann, the book of Psalms is to the person and work of God’s Messiah, Jesus Christ. God gave us this collection of 150 poems to publicly display what he was preparing to do through his appointed, law-abiding King.
In approaching this book, let us be careful to avoid what James Hely Hutchinson calls excessive introspection. “This book is more fundamentally ‘God’s word to us’ than ‘our words to God.’ Sensitivity to the abundance of New Testament quotations of, and allusions to, the psalms should lead us to major on God’s attributes and Christology.”1
Ancient manuscripts of the Book of Psalms clearly demarcate five divisions to the book. Modern Bibles title them “Book 1,” “Book 2,” and so on. This division into five “books” is reinforced by a distinct doxology (word of blessing or praise to God) at the end of each book. These doxologies typically have little to do with the poem immediately preceding them.
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting! Amen and Amen. (Ps 41:13)
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! The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended. (Ps 72:8-20)
Blessed be the Lord forever! Amen and Amen. (Ps 89:52)
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting! And let all the people say, “Amen!” Praise the Lord! (Ps 106:48)
Praise the Lord! (Beginning and ending of Psalms 146-150)
So the book breaks into the following divisions:
Let’s promenade through these poems/pictures on exhibition. For a more detailed analysis of the book of Psalms than what I can offer in this post, see my spreadsheet.
The first two poems stand apart as some of the only poems in book 1 not written by David. They introduce the book by bracketing a double blessing around the person who delights in God’s law (Ps 1:1-2) and submits to God’s king (Ps 2:12). Law and king; king and law. The king loves God’s law. The law speaks about God’s king. These will be the twin themes of the entire collection.
Book 1 then proceeds in three parts. Part 1 (Psalms 3-14) portray the king’s rejection by men. Part 2 (Psalms 15-24) show forth his acceptance by God. Part 3 (Psalms 25-35) return to the fact of his rejection by men. A closing section (Psalms 36-41) illustrate the king’s response to this state of affairs.
The big idea in Book 1 is that we see David himself suffering as the king of Israel, but finding great courage in God’s divine assistance and declaration of support. And yet, these poems make clear that David is only the beginning. Another king must come to turn what David felt into cosmic reality.
“The Lord dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he rewarded me … Great salvation he brings to his king, and shows steadfast love to his anointed, to David and his offspring forever” (Ps 18:20, 50).
“Now I know the Lord saves his anointed; he will answer him from his holy heaven with the saving might of his right hand … O Lord, save the king! May he answer us when we call” (Ps 20:6, 9).
What Book 1 hinted at, Book 2 comes out and says directly.
The Book opens with the king’s wrestling through spiritual depression (Ps 42-43). It ends with him growing old (Ps 71) and passing the baton to the next generation (Ps 72). Along the way he must deal with everything from his own sin (Ps 51), to the sins of others (Ps 52-56), to the effects of such sin all around him (Ps 60-64). This leads him to celebrate both what he does for his people (Ps 44-50) and who he is in himself (Ps 65-68).
But this means we need someone greater than David. Someone who will never buckle under the pressure of opposition but will only see God’s glory in it (Ps 57). Someone whom God will resoundingly exonerate after being baselessly prosecuted (Ps 69). Someone greater than Solomon, ruling from the River to the ends of the earth (Ps 72).
“May he have dominion from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth! … May all kings fall down before him, all nations serve him!” (Ps 72:8, 11).
The third movement moves to a dark place, where all the promises of God (those things we ought to delight in – Psalm 1) are brought into question.
The book begins with the appearance that only the wicked prosper (Ps 73), and it ends with a desperate cry from those whose king has been sent into exile (Ps 89). In between, the poems are structured in pairs (starting on the outside and working in) showing how a people process the experience of being cut off and forcibly removed from all God has given them. This generates deep concern for the present and uncertainty regarding the future.
Yet at the center of this collection, we find a poem (Ps 81) exposing the fact that it is the people’s persistent stubbornness, and not any alleged broken promises on God’s part, that led to this situation.
“Restore us, O Lord God of hosts! Let your face shine, that we may be saved!” (Ps 80:3, 7, 19).
In Book 4, we get a sizable dose of hope and encouragement. Though we are transient, Yahweh is eternal (Ps 90). When we dwell in his shadow, no-one can harm us (Ps 91). The Lord will not forsake his people in exile; he is present with them to hold them up amid the scorn of the nations (Ps 94).
These poems begin with reminders that God is present in exile and has not abandoned his people (Ps 90-94). It moves the people to praise God as king over all nations, because he is the king of his chosen people Israel (Ps 95-101). These truths enable them, as a community, to grieve with hope (Ps 102-106).
“He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God” (Ps 98:3).
“Let this be recorded for a generation to come, so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord: that he looked down from his holy height; from heaven the Lord looked at the earth, to hear the groans of the prisoners, to set free those who were doomed to die, that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord” (Ps 102:18-22).
The four subsections of Book 5 have a parallel structure:
It should not escape our notice that the cause for praise in this Book’s opening is the people’s being “gathered in from the lands” (Ps 107:1-3). And now that they are back, their king returns to power and prominence (Ps 110, 118, 132, 144). Also, God’s word becomes the driving joy of the community (Ps 119). So the twin emphases of Psalms 1 and 2 return in force in Book 5.
The “psalms of ascent” (Ps 120-134) might seem to be their own unit. But notice how Ps 134 moves right into Ps 135 (compare Ps 134:1 with Ps 135:1-2), and how Ps 135 moves right into Ps 136 (compare Ps 135:11-12 with Ps 136:17-22). And then Psalm 137 returns to the theme of Psalm 120, bracketing the section with reflections on the trauma of exile and the hope for something better.
And consider how the book’s last section develops:
Time and space have failed me to comment on the many connections to the New Testament. While the Book of Psalms doesn’t tell a cohesive narrative or make a linear sustained argument, the book’s 150 poems are clearly arranged like an exhibition of paintings meant to communicate impressions and offer snapshots of how God’s ultimate king interacts with God’s word. I trust you are beginning to understand why the apostles quoted from the Psalms more than any other book when they sought to explain the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ.
For more interpretive walkthroughs of books of the Bible, click here.
1NIV Proclamation Bible, Zondervan, 2013, p.571.
I really appreciate this reflection from Lola Olukogbon on 1 Peter 3:4, which she calls “the most terrifying verse in the Bible.” While that label may be a bit exaggerated, Ms. Olukogbon models how to penetrate to the meaning of a text and pursue obedient application. I am grateful to TGC Africa for publishing such a thoughtful piece.
Here is a taste:
The picture of a “biblical woman” that we are often presented with is that of a woman who is timid and subdued. Verses like 1 Peter 3:4 seem to contribute to this unappealing image. We can skirt around the issue and say that this text is addressed only to wives or to women in a specific ancient context, or we can roll up our sleeves and confront the text. We are often guilty of reading the Bible with our own presuppositions. Thus, this text has filled me with dismay, because I saw gentleness and quietness to mean dormancy, timidity and suppression. But it doesn’t.
Any Christian article or book worth our attention will be faithful to God’s word. And one way that writers strive for that faithfulness is to quote and refer to the Bible.
These quotes and references are often called “proof texts.” For any reader of persuasive Christian writing, these are crucial elements of an argument. Proof texts are not mere sprinkles on the cupcake.
Because the Observation-Interpretation-Application (OIA) framework offers a grid for all communication, it’s no surprise that it lends us a hand in this matter. Just as there are two ways to outline a Bible passage, proof texts also come in two varieties.
In observation proof texts, a writer refers to a verse or passage and the reader needs only to observe the Bible to verify that the text supports the point. For example, a writer might cite John 5:18 to help establish the claim that Jesus refers to God as his father.
When a writer uses interpretation proof texts, their reader must do some interpretive work with the verse or passage cited. In this category, a writer might refer to the parable of the prodigal son to support a statement about Jesus correcting the Pharisees’ notion of loving God.
These different kinds of proof texts show up in many varieties of Christian writing. Here are two examples.
Take a look at the sixth question and answer from the historic Heidelberg Catechism. (I have not included all of the catechism’s proof texts here.)
Q. Did God, then, create man so wicked and perverse?
A. No, on the contrary, God created man good[1] and in His image, that is, in true righteousness and holiness,[3] so that he might rightly know God His Creator, heartily love Him, and live with Him in eternal blessedness to praise and glorify Him.
The reference [1] points to Gen 1:31; this is an observation proof text, because that verse says that God called all that he created (including man) “good.” The reference [3] points to Eph 4:24; this is an interpretation proof text, because Paul is writing about repentance and putting on the new self, not (explicitly) the original creation of man. It takes some interpretive work to agree that the phrase “true righteousness and holiness” as used in Eph 4:24 is being used accurately and legitimately in the catechism.
Here are additional examples from Tim Keller’s book The Meaning of Marriage.
Keller writes this when discussing the permanence of marriage.
The problem is not with marriage itself. According to Genesis 1 and 2, we were made for marriage, and marriage was made for us. Genesis 3 tells us that marriage, along with every other aspect of human life, has been broken because of sin. (Keller, page 44)
The references to the first three chapters of Genesis are interpretation proof texts. We cannot pluck the conclusions Keller asserts from the surface of those texts.
On the next page, however, when describing Jesus’s sacrifice, Keller writes this.
Jesus the Son, though equal with the Father, gave up his glory and took on our human nature (Philippians 2:5ff). (Keller, page 45)
This reference to the second chapter of Philippians is an observation proof text, because the words Keller writes come almost verbatim from those verses.
Knowing there are two different kinds of proof texts can help us discuss the dangers associated with each. The lines here are not always sharp and the categories are not always disjointed, but some distinctions can be helpful.
A common error when using an observation proof text is to miss the passage’s context. Most errors associated with context involve a quick, surface reading of the passage. But the obvious reading of a verse may not be the intended or accurate reading. (See this page for a multitude of examples.)
Interpretation proof texts are, unsurprisingly, prone to bad or incomplete interpretation. Sometimes writers assume too much of their readers; sometimes they simply misinterpret the Bible.
Neither type of proof text is inherently good or bad. And while neither type is better than the other, interpretation proof texts are the less stable of the two. They require more work and more care.
As we read Christian writing which attempts to persuade, let’s be aware of these two kinds of proof texts. We can often identify which type a writer is using by context clues.
When a writer uses an observation proof text, their claim should be easy to verify. Look up the reference, nod your head (hopefully), and move on. When the writer uses an interpretation proof text, we will need to do some interpretive work to see if their claim is supported by the text.
Knowing the distinction between these two kinds of proof texts won’t solve all our problems. This will help us to be better readers, able to know when (or if) a writer’s ideas square with God’s written revelation.
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For the first time in my life, I’ve been spending significant time studying the book of Leviticus. You know, that book you and I have always avoided, except perhaps for annual reading plans? It’s all been fulfilled by Jesus, so we don’t need to know it very well, right?
Let me share just a few highlights of the beginning of my study.
Leviticus 1-7 lists the regulations for five types of sacrifice, each of which has a different focus. The first type is the “burnt offering” (Lev 1), and the thing that distinguishes the burnt offering is that it is the only sacrifice where the entire corpse of the animal is consumed in the altar’s fire. Every other sacrifice has some portion reserved for priest or people to cook and eat.
In addition, the burnt offering is not directly connected with sin. I have tended to flatten my understanding of Old Testament sacrifices to little more than substitutionary payment for sin. And yet, the first type of sacrifice, the bread and butter of the Mosaic system, is not a payment for sin. It is the sacrifice someone would offer when they simply want to draw near to God and express their loyalty or praise to him (“vows or freewill offerings” – Lev 22:18). The burnt offering simply makes it possible for people to draw near to God in worship, offering oneself completely, leaving nothing out.
So why does this matter? How an Israelite would offer their burnt offering matters to God. Unless it is offered in the prescribed way, it will not be acceptable, a pleasing aroma (Lev 1:3, 9, 13, 17). And when we dig into the mechanics of bringing a burnt offering, fascinating things seep from the text’s pores. Notice how all of the following theological language has its roots in the burnt offering of Leviticus 1:
In addition, the metaphors “holy and acceptable (transformed) sacrifices” (Rom 12:1-2) and “fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God” (Phil 4:18) all likely draw their word pictures from the burnt offering (and perhaps a few other types of sacrifice).
How does it deepen your thinking about such texts, when you start to see that ordination (1 Tim 4:14), marriage (Eph 5:26), or ministry philanthropy (Phil 4:18) are New Testament applications of the regulations for the levitical burnt offering?
I’m delighted to discover how richly rewarding it is to gain greater familiarity with these sacrificial rituals and with the text of Leviticus. Perhaps this will encourage you to take a closer look at this oft-neglected book as well.
Here is a helpful devotional showcasing the difference between meaning and application. The author looks at Elisha’s “death in the pot” story in 2 Kings 4:38-41 to show how to both interpret (arriving at the author’s main point) and apply (connecting that truth to our own lives).
How many meanings does a passage of Scripture have? Sometimes we read a text and our minds race all over the Scripture with seemingly related texts and many possible meanings. Two of the challenges we can sometimes bring to our reading, interpretation, and subsequent understanding of Scripture are: 1) forgetting what Scripture principally teaches; and 2) confusing a text’s meaning with its application.
Proverbs is all about getting us moving in the right direction, toward the Lord and away from ourselves. Job shows us how to keep moving in that direction when everything falls apart. Ecclesiastes completes the triptych of wisdom books, inspiring us to persevere in that journey, despite how frustrating it may be to do so.
Ecclesiastes does not present its divisions nearly as obviously as Job and Proverbs do. The book could almost be considered a lab report, where the wise man presents his findings to a series of inquiries. So the chief markers to look for are the first-person signals, such as “I saw,” “I turned,” and “I considered.”
But with that said, the book’s sections appear to be tightly organized around topics. And within those topics, what appears at first to be linear and uncoordinated ramblings are actually carefully arranged to increase the rhetorical impact.
For example, after the thesis of Eccl 1:2-3, we get a series of four metaphors (Eccl 1:4-7) followed by four interpretations of the metaphors (Eccl 1:8-11). Then we get a narrative reflection (Eccl 1:12-14) with poetic conclusion (Eccl 1:15), followed by another narrative reflection (Eccl 1:16-17) with poetic conclusion (Eccl 1:18).
Working through the book to find those tightly structured units, organized around a single topic, yields the following divisions*:
Even if I’m not exactly right on the exact divisions, the most important thing in studying Ecclesiastes is to follow the argument. It is ultimately a book of truth and wisdom, which seeks to persuade you of truth and poke you into action (Eccl 12:11). So what is that argument?
The book states its chief conclusion (Eccl 1:2) and process (Eccl 1:3) up front. The process of looking for “gain,” or profit, under the sun yields the conclusion that everything is “vanity.” “Vanity” is a squishy concept, which we must grasp if we are to follow the argument. From here, I will use the plainer word “frustration,” which presumes the arguments I offered in this post.
So what are we able to get out of life? Frustration. An endless repetition of old things that will never satisfy. Such frustration is illustrated and explained vividly (Eccl 1:4-11), leading to the twin conclusions that we cannot fix anything (Eccl 1:15), and more knowledge produces more pain (Eccl 1:18). Inspiring, huh?
But look at what happens if we run from these hard truths (these sharp, pointy sticks – Eccl 12:11)? More pleasure won’t make the truth any easier (Eccl 2:1-11). Nor will more education (Eccl 2:12-17) or more honest work (Eccl 2:18-23). You cannot retreat from life’s frustration into your muscle cars, romance novels, academia, or entrepreneurship. None of these things will help.
The best we can hope for is a supernatural joy (Eccl 2:24-25), given as a free gift of grace (Eccl 2:26) by an all-powerful God (Eccl 3:1-22). God has made it so that the world would be a frustrating place, all so we would fear him (Eccl 3: 11, 14). Even the continuous presence of injustice where we would expect justice serves this purpose, of frustrating our wildest dreams and humbling our arrogant hearts before the Majesty of God on high (Eccl 3:16-22).
So what does this mean for life on earth for those who would fear God?
First, we can avoid the dangers of going it alone (Eccl 4:1-5:7). We don’t have to be lonely (Eccl 4:1-6), we can get help (Eccl 4:7-16), and we find such things as we listen to God more than we speak to him (Eccl 5:1-7).
Second, we can be content with what our sovereign God chooses to give us. We know love of money will never satisfy (Eccl 5:8-17)—because only God gives lasting contentment (Eccl 5:18-20)—and we can beware the pain of dissatisfaction (Eccl 6:1-7). We can ask ourselves some hard questions about how much control money really gives us over our future (Eccl 6:8-12).
Third, we can take a realistic and joy-inducing view of suffering. We learn wisdom about what is worth taking to heart (Eccl 7:1-13) and what is not worth taking to heart (Eccl 7:15-24). This equips us to consider the crooked works of our sovereign God so we might fear him (Eccl 7:14).
Fourth, we can stop being so surprised by how sinful humanity is. Our joy in fearing God enables to see that sin goes very wide (Eccl 7:25-29) and very high up (Eccl 8:1-17), but has a clear endpoint (Eccl 9:1-12). Death, the wage of sin, has a profound equalizing effect on all humanity (Eccl 9:1-6, 11-12), which in turn has a profound impact on the daily choices God-fearers will make (Eccl 9:7-10).
Fifth, we’ll be persuaded of the high value of wisdom relative to folly, when we live in God’s world, which always plays by God’s rules, even when the foolish try to make it otherwise (Eccl 9:13-10:20).
Finally, these truths about a frustrating world will inspire us to persevere in trying anything (Eccl 11:1-6)—it just might work!—and enduring to the end (Eccl 11:7-8). We can rejoice now (Eccl 11:9-10) if we remember what is on its way (Eccl 12:1-8).
So of course, the frustration of life ought to inspire us to fear God and keep his commandments (Eccl 12:13-14). But make no mistake, this frustration and this fear have a symbiotic relationship. Not only does the frustration produce fear, but the fear also increases the frustration, which in turn elevates the fear yet again.
The book of Ecclesiastes shows us there are no pat answers in matters pertaining to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. He does whatever he pleases, which often will look to us like “time and chance” (Eccl 9:11). But his word never fails, his promises are sure, and his commandments are not burdensome. When he sets his affection on you, he gives you the gift of irrational joy in the face of such frustration. Don’t ever give that up or take it for granted, for Jesus died and rose so the pure life of the age to come could invade our present age of frustration.
Christians ought to respond to their world in a way unlike anyone else, and Ecclesiastes explains why.
*I’m grateful to Joel Miles for the insights that led to this map of divisions.
For more interpretive walkthroughs of books of the Bible, click here.
A few years ago, Desiring God interviewed Glenn Paauw on his book Saving the Bible from Ourselves: Learning to Read and Live the Bible Well. We shared that interview on this blog, but it is important enough that it warrants sharing once again.
And this time, I’ll share it along with Kevin Halloran’s notes. So if you prefer not to listen to the entire interview, you can catch the key points in Kevin’s excellent summary.
The major takeaway is that your study Bibles are laid out and designed to prevent you from studying the Bible yourself. They presume little to no knowledge of the Bible, and they draw far more attention to the “helps” than to the text, leaving the text nearly untouched by most people. Please be aware of this trap, promote awareness of it, and form good habits of studying the text in context.
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When we say that an activity is “uncomfortable,” sometimes we’re just being nice. We often sugar coat reality when we throw out the terms “messy,” “unpleasant,” “awkward,” or “disagreeable.”
Some jobs, projects, and habits are painful. They might be good for us, even necessary for our lives, but they hurt. And it is healthy for us to confront that truth.
Studying the Bible is painful work. Here I’m not referring to the discipline needed to study the Scriptures. I’m not even talking about the intellectual labor and focus that such study demands. No, the hardest work of Bible study comes in application.
All of the steps of Bible study are important, and none are a cinch. Application may be the hardest step, however, since it is the most personal. In application, we are forced to change. And rare is the person who likes to change.
If the idea of application is new or confusing, check out our page of Bible study instruction. Application is the third step of the OIA (Observation, Interpretation, Application) process we promote on this blog, and we’ve written a lot about application.
The biblical word for the change that application demands is repentance. When God confronts us, he intends for us to turn around—away from sin and toward him.
This is why applying the Bible is painful. We’re usually quite comfortable traveling the road we’re on. We don’t want to turn around. We’ve gotten used to the scenery, the weather, and the traffic. Cruise control is easy.
Through his word, God often brings us to a full stop. He puts his holy finger on the idols of our hearts—anything to which we are too devoted. Idols are often good gifts we have twisted or to which we have given inflated affection and attention. Idols like comfort, family, and power abound in the western church. Biblical application may feel like losing a piece of ourselves. But if God is removing something cancerous from our hearts, we should expect pain along the way.
In our application we may also be compelled to love our neighbors in difficult ways. Like us, our neighbors may be unloving and unlovely at times, so extending ourselves and taking risks may be painful. Like the beginning of any exercise routine, we will resist because of the pain involved, even though we see the good on the other side.
Pain often accompanies our repentance, because God is challenging and changing what we love. This leads many to resist repentance and reject studying the Bible altogether.
But if we spurn repentance, we turn away from something good. For repentance is coming out of the darkness into the light! It is hearing and receiving the correction of a father who loves us! Repentance is growing and living and walking more in obedience to God, becoming more and more like the people we were created to be! For these reasons, though there is pain in repentance, there is also profound joy.
And here’s the best part. God is with us through the whole process: conviction, despair, confusion, and our halting, crooked steps of repentance. He is more committed to our growth in godliness than we are, because he always has our best in mind.
The pain of Bible study is not like the pain of touching a hot stove, a caution to stay away. Rather, the pain of Bible study is like the sore muscles of a preseason athlete. We ache because we’re not yet in shape for competition, but we have a good coach who is getting us ready for the opening bell.
Perhaps you’ve heard that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. And perhaps this truth has encouraged you through a season of anxiety or loss. Perhaps it reminds you of his all-sufficient care for you. Such sentiments may be generally true (Luke 12:32, John 10:14-15, etc.), but are they the sort of applications the poet responsible for Psalm 50 had in mind?
Context matters. We ignore it to our peril, increasing the risk of many dangerous consequences for both ourselves and others. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of one-liners and sound bites—we’ll find some of our habitual turns of phrase may have far more sinister import than we realized.
Psalm 50 begins with the Mighty God summoning all the earth (Ps 50:1) to Zion (Ps 50:2) to judge his own people (Ps 50:3-4). The very heavens declare his righteousness (Ps 50:6), and he cannot exempt his covenant people from his fiery holiness and searing justice (Ps 50:5).
What does he judge his covenant people for?
In Psalm 50:7-15, he appears to judge them for their legalism. They offer him sacrifices and burnt offerings (Ps 50:8), but what he wants is hearts of thanksgiving and integrity (Ps 50:14). He wants them to need him (Ps 50:15).
In Psalm 50:16-21, he appears to judge them for their licentiousness. Though he speaks to “the wicked” (Ps 50:16), we must remember he came to “judge his people” (Ps 50:4), to gather his faithful ones who made a covenant with him by sacrifice (Ps 50:5). So the “wicked” are those within the covenant community—who take his covenant on their lips (Ps 50:16)—yet refuse discipline (Ps 50:17), subsidize theft and adultery (Ps 50:18), speak words of deceit (Ps 50:19), slander one another (Ps 50:20), and presume God to be as corrupt as they are (Ps 50:21).
Notice what he offers to his people. Away from legalism, he calls them to thanksgiving (Ps 50:23a). And away from licentiousness, he calls them to order their way rightly (Ps 50:23b). May they not forget there is always a way of escape from his terrible judgment (Ps 50:22).
So within the context of this poem’s argument, why does it say he owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Ps 50:10)?
That verse sits within the stanza condemning them for their legalistic practice of sacrificing animals without hearts of thankfulness and integrity. They think he needs them to pay him off with such animal sacrifice (Ps 50:9-13), when the truth is they need him in the day of trouble (Ps 50:15).
His condemnation resounds. “I do not need your stupid cattle, slaughtered at my altar in an attempt to buy me off. I own all the cattle; why would I have any need of yours? Just call me, and I’ll be there for you.”
The truth that “he owns the cattle on a thousand hills” was not penned to grant us assurance that our kind Father can take care of us. No, this assertion’s plain purpose is to shake up complacent religious people by reminding them they’ll never be able to bribe their God. He cannot be bought with their religious ritual.
Mark this, then, you who are prone to forget God, lest he tear you apart, and there be none to deliver. May we offer not bulls—nor songs, nor daily devotions, nor acts of service, nor financial contributions—for the sake of heaven-bound bribery, but hearts overcome with thanksgiving for his amazing and utterly undeserved salvation.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
