A Song Interrupted (Psalm 43)

Why are you cast down, O my soul, 
      and why are you in turmoil within me? 
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, 
      my salvation and my God.


—Psalm 43:5

Psalms 42 and 43 present a song interrupted. The common themes, the shared refrain, and the progression of the psalm, as well their placement, all convince us that they belong together. In addition, a number of ancient manuscripts do present them as single psalm. All the more then, the question is, why did the division come to dominate their presentation? Why was this song broken into two?

Much will remain an mystery, but part of the answer is so plain and obvious that, like the nose on our face, we tend to overlook it. The song is interrupted, it is broken in two, because two psalms were desired for the worship of God’s people. They are not one, because two were preferred. Or, we might say that the division is liturgical. It has to do with how they ordered their worship.

It is like a concept album where a part of a song may occur again and again throughout the album in bits and parts, sustaining a theme. Or it is like a recurring motif in a symphony. We can’t sure exactly how the division of this song into two was used liturgically, but that it had some liturgical function is plain enough. Even so, I think we can safely speculate a bit as to how the division worked, and the significance of it. Something came between the pieces of the song in their worship because, often, something comes between the pieces of the song in our life. You don’t just sing this psalm, and then, that’s that. Burden lifted. Faith bolstered. Done. This is a song you need to sing and you need to sing it again and again. And all other kinds of things come in between. 

Not only that, this is a song that you can learn to sing better, to sing more fully. You sing this song. Then, when you sing it again, you sing it better. There is something of a progression to the verses of this song as we move from longing to lament to petition. There is no ultimate resolution, but still you sense hope growing as your progress along through each verse and return to the refrain. In our longing and our lament we hope, but then, with our petitions, we begin to hope more. We hope better. Keep preaching God’s truth to yourself and hope better—that, I believe, is something of the message of this song interrupted.

Don’t Merely Long for God To… (Psalm 42)

As a deer pants for flowing streams, 
      so pants my soul for you, O God. 
My soul thirsts for God, 
      for the living God. 
When shall I come and appear before God?

—Psalm 42:1–2

In the opening paragraph of his Confessions, Augustine writes, “you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” All spirituality, all religion, all quests for the true, the good, and the beautiful, man’s every longing, all of it testifies to this restlessness, and yet, it also shouts that man does not long for God. Romans 3:11 tells us “no one seeks for God.” Man paradoxically wants all that God is, minus God. Man needs God and is desperate for all that God is and God alone, but he wants it all apart from the true God as He is. Sinful man is a fool wanting a solar system without a star.

This is also true of many who long for the true God revealed in Jesus Christ, because they long for God too. They long for God to deliver them, to help them, to lead them, to bless them. Such longings are not always evil, but it is evil to only long for God to

Even the true saint recognizes something of this idolatrous longing cloaked as piety remaining within him. Here is something rare and beautiful. It is a work of God’s grace. Here the psalmist longs for God. Oh, it will be plain he longs for God to as well, but foundationally, what he longs for is God himself.

God is not a means to to. To is a means to God. Deliverance is deliverance to God. Help is help unto God. God’s leading is a leading unto Himself. Blessedness is God. 

John Piper helps separate the wheat from the chaff with this question, 

“The critical question for our generation—and for every generation—is this: If you could have heaven, with no sickness, and with all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever saw, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with heaven, if Christ was not there?”

Here is the heart of true worship, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you” (Psalm 73:25).

Hyperbole‽ (John 21:15–25)

This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true. Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.

—John 21:24–25

The gospel of John is a written witness, but not all that could be written has been written. In 20:30 John tells us that Jesus did many other signs. Now he tells us Jesus did so many other things, that were they to be written, the world could not contain the books. Many quickly dismiss this as hyperbole, and it is true that this is the classification for this type of figure of speech, but ponder this: 

Ponder the depth and the significance of Jesus’ acts, just the ones we that we do have recorded in John, and all that could be said about them.

Ponder all the unseen work of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit in their divinity going on behind all these events.

Ponder all the backstory that the Sovereign Storyteller has weaved together that leads up to all these events.

Ponder all the promises and types of the Old Testament come to fulfillment in Christ and all the words that would be necessary to unpack them.

Ponder the mighty redemption and advancing kingdom that are still shaking this world, knowing they find their epicenter in the crucified and risen Christ. They are what Jesus has continued to do.

Then add to this all the other things Jesus did, and run the same play with them.

Hyperbole! No. Even Aristotle had enough light from natural revelation to realize that the finite cannot contain the infinite. Hyperbole? Eternity and heaven will not prove enough to exhaust the wonders of incarnation, obedience, acts, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord.

The love of God is greater far
than tongue or pen can ever tell;
it goes beyond the highest star,
and reaches to the lowest hell.
The wand’ring child is reconciled
by God’s beloved Son.
The aching soul again made whole,
and priceless pardon won.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and were the skies of parchment made;
were ev’ry stalk on earth a quill,
and ev’ryone a scribe by trade;
to write the love of God above
would drain the ocean dry;
nor could the scroll contain the whole,
though stretched from sky to sky.

	—“The Love of God” by Frederick Lehman

Hyperbole? Truth! His testimony is true. We know his testimony is true.

Revealing the Revealed (John 21:1–14)

After this Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, and he revealed himself in this way.

This was now the third time that Jesus was revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

—John 21:1, 14 (emphasis added)

Critical scholars are nearly unanimous in rejecting the 21st chapter of John as unoriginal. They believe it smells fishy. I believe they are smelling their own breath. They think John 20:30–31 is the climactic conclusion of this gospel, period, such that chapter 21 was added later and by someone other than John. They think this, though there is absolutely zero manuscript evidence to suggest this. This is the arrogance of modern minds telling ancient minds how they must think, because it is how they think. This grandly exposes how “higher criticism” really works. It isn’t about humble investigation, but arrogant presuppositions.

When you look at John itself, chapter 21 brings perfect balance to this gospel. John opens with a majestic prologue, in which the Eternal Word becomes flesh in John 1:1–18. Following this, John falls into two parts. Part one, “The Book of Signs,” runs from 1:19–12:50. Central to this section are seven signs revealing that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and calling for our faith. Part two, beginning with chapter 13 and running to 20:31, is referred to as “The Book of Glory.” It focuses exclusively on the sign of signs, the death and resurrection of our Lord. And now, John closes with this epilogue, chapter 21. The epilogue is as humble as the prologue was majestic, and yet it remains glorious. Two parts with a prologue and epilogue on each side. Balanced.

The climactic conclusion of 20:30–31 is echoed at the end of this epilogue, forming a frame around it. On the front of the epilogue we read, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” And on the back, “This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true. Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 20:25).

Also, the epilogue itself breaks down into two parts. Part one (vv. 1–14) opens with the disciples and prepares us to focus on Peter in particular as we move into part two (vv. 15–25). It is as you ponder this increasing focus Peter that I believe you begin to see the divine purpose in this epilogue. We move from the disciples to Peter. Once more Peter stands in for the disciples, all of whom have failed their Lord. Jesus will restore and commission Peter afresh. On the heels of this, we are reminded that we are reading a gospel given to one of these apostles. What was reveled to them lies before us. This gospel reveals the Revealed. Jesus’ resurrection doesn’t bring a sharp conclusion to this gospel. The effects of Jesus’ resurrection are made to linger. This revealing of Christ is still reverberating with redemption to this day.

Part one of this epilogue is bracketed with references to Jesus revealing Himself. At the beginning we read “After this Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, and he revealed himself in this way” (v. 1). At the end we read, “This was now the third time that Jesus was revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.” In between these two references, we are first told that “the disciples did not know that it was Jesus” (v. 4), and then “none of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord” (v. 12). Why the change? It is because Jesus revealed Himself. Christianity is a religion of revelation, not discovery. Discovery is human work rising up. Revelation is divine grace coming down.

Revelation is not just for blind sinners who cannot see God. Revelation is for disciples. Revelation is for apostles. Indeed, speaking in systematic terms, “revelation” is only for apostles and prophets. What we need is illumination. We need the Spirit to reveal Christ in the prophetic and apostolic revelation. We need the Spirit to illumine the Scriptures and give us the light of the knowledge of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

That is why this gospel sits before you. Just before we are told that Jesus revealed Himself, one to whom Christ was revealed tells us “but these [signs] are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” This gospel is written so that you might see what they saw. This gospel is written so that the Revealed might be revealed to you.