Celebrating the City… of God (Psalm 48)

Walk about Zion, go around her, 
     number her towers, 
consider well her ramparts, 
     go through her citadels, 
that you may tell the next generation
     that this is God,
our God forever and ever.
     He will guide us forever.

—Psalm 48:12–14

“Biblical religion,” writes one reformed theologian, “views the whole course of history as a movement from a garden to a city.” I grew up in as rural Oklahoma as you can get on a peanut farm outside the small town of Eakly. And while I did enjoy some time in Tulsa, I have no desire to return to the city. As violence, drugs, and homelessness begin to dominate our cities more and more, they grow even less attractive to me. There are many iconic cities I now have absolutely no desire to ever visit. I’ve never been so glad to live in the country.

But a love for the countryside mustn’t cause us to simply the Biblical storyline like this: Garden good; city corrupt. Yes, Eden was a paradise, and Babel was evil, but in between Eden and Babylon, we do find Jerusalem. Regardless of their evils, don’t fail to think of cities in these two ways. First, in the ancient world, many cities didn’t obscure nature, they harnessed it, as ancient river valley civilizations meant more green and growth, not less. Second, cities were and are an outworking of the mandate for man to have dominion over the earth. As we look at cities we must remember the culture mandate and we must not forget that in between the garden of God and the cities of man there was a fall. So while cities do represent progress in one sense, and they are collectives of depravity of as well. It’s not that cities are more sinful, it is just that there are more sinners.

In this psalm though we are not talking about any city of man, but the city of God. This psalm is a celebration of the city of our God, His holy mountain, Mount Zion, the city of the great king, the city of David, Jerusalem. This city, ultimately, is the church, the assembly of the saints, the heavenly Jerusalem (Hebrews 12:22). She is glorious. So great is the psalmist’s delight in her, we’re almost tempted to say she’s worshipped. But the splendor of the city is the splendor of the her Builder (Hebrews 11:10). The beauty of the bride, is the beauty of her Bridegroom. The glory of the people is the glory of her God. As we survey the city, we behold her God, who dwells in her midst as King. As we survey the ancient city with the Psalmist, we anticipate the heavenly city of the new earth, the city we have a foretaste of in the local church. If the psalmist could so sing these words of Jerusalem, how much more may we now of the church?

Praise Calling for Praise (Psalm 48)

Clap your hands, all peoples! 
Shout to God with loud songs of joy! 
For the LORD, the Most High, is to be feared, 
a great king over all the earth.

—Psalm 47:1–2

All churches have liturgies; it is simply a question of whether they have a good one or a bad one. Liturgy is simply the form or ordering of a worship gathering. At Meridian Church, after some preliminaries, our worship gatherings formally begin with a “call to worship.” This historically common practice unfortunately is foreign to many who visit our body. 

What is a call to worship? It is simply a reading of a passage of Scripture to usher forth our hearts unto God. God speaks; we respond. This is the Biblical pattern of worship from Genesis to Revelation. He initiates; we reciprocate. He reveals; we revere. The bride of Christ did not propose to her Bridegroom. In the dance of discipleship and worship that follows their union, He still leads; she still follows. Worship is not something we stir up within. It is something God stirs up within His people. Worship is not generated by man. It is summoned forth by God.

The 47th psalm is a call to worship par excellence and God gives it through His people. The psalms are a gigantic call to worship by our gigantic God. God calls us to worship Himself. Have you ever contemplated that? C.S. Lewis did, and initially, it irritated him.

“When I first began to draw near to belief in God and even for some time after it had been given to me, I found a stumbling block in the demand so clamorously made by all religious people that we should ‘praise’ God; still more in the suggestion that God Himself demanded it. We all despise the man who demands continued assurance of his own virtue, intelligence or delightfulness; we despise still more the crowd of people round every dictator, every millionaire, every celebrity, who gratify that demand. Thus a picture, at once ludicrous and horrible, both of God and of His worshippers, threatened to appear in my mind. The Psalms were especially troublesome in this way…”.

How did Lewis solve this problem of praise? He gives a few answers, but here are the two I find most satisfying.

“What do we mean when we say that a picture is ‘admirable’? We certainly don’t mean that it is admired (that’s as may be) for bad work is admired by thousands and good work may be ignored. Nor that it ‘deserves’ admiration in the sense in which a candidate deserves a high mark from the examiners—i.e. that a human being will have suffered injustice if it is not awarded. The sense in which the picture ‘deserves’ or ‘demands’ admiration is rather this; that admiration is the correct, adequate or appropriate, response to it, that, if paid, admiration will not be ‘thrown away’, and that if we do not admire we shall be stupid, insensible, and great losers, we shall have missed something. In that way many objects both in Nature and in Art may be said to deserve, or merit, or demand, admiration. It was from this end, which will seem to some irreverent, that I found it best to approach the idea that God ‘demands’ praise. He is that Object to admire which (or, if you like, to appreciate which) is simply to be awake, to have entered the real world; not to appreciate which is to have lost the greatest experience, and in the end to have lost all.”

Lewis goes on to clarify that God does indeed demand praise as the just law giver, but He demands (commands) praise as one who demands (compels) praise. God doesn’t call us to worship Himself as some wicked tyrant, distracting us from that which is transcendently good, true, and beautiful. God calls us to worship Himself as the transcendently good God, the true God, the beautiful God. God’s call to worship then is a call to our greatest joy. This is the second insight of Lewis I appreciate.

“But the most obvious fact about praise—whether of God or anything—strangely escaped me. I thought of it in terms of compliment, approval, or the giving of honour. I had never noticed that all enjoyment spontaneously overflows into praise. The world rings with praise—lovers praising their mistresses, readers their favourite poet, walkers praising the countryside, players praising their favourite game—praise of weather, wines, dishes, actors, motors, horses, colleges, countries, historical personages, children, flowers, mountains, rare stamps, rare beetles, even sometimes politicians or scholars. …I had not noticed either that just as men spontaneously praise whatever they value, so they spontaneously urge us to join them in praising it: ‘Isn’t she lovely? Wasn’t it glorious? Don’t you think that magnificent?’ The Psalmists in telling everyone to praise God are doing what all men do when they speak of what they care about.”

I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed.”

The call to worship is an invitation to delight in what is most delightful. Evangelism, proper and good evangelism, is public praise inviting others to rejoice in the good news of Christ. “Taste and see that the LORD is good” (Psalm 34:8). Missions is praise calling for praise. It is worship calling for worship. It is joy calling for joy.

The Illogicality of Fear (Psalm 46)

God is our refuge and strength, 
      a very present help in trouble. 
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, 
      though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, 
though its waters roar and foam, 
      though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah

—Psalm 46:1–3

The metaphor of God as a refuge assumes a threat. There was an occasion for this psalm’s composition and that occasion was trouble. God is a refuge, strength, and help in… trouble. Knowing the covenant God of Israel doesn’t eliminate trouble. Trouble will be, but in trouble, the people of God have a refuge.

And it is for this reason, we do not fear. Not because there is no trouble, but because in trouble there is a refuge. “Therefore, we will not fear.” Perhaps it is better to say, that in trouble, the saints understand that they should not fear and therefore they resolve not to fear. “God is our refuge” this is our confession. “Therefore we will not fear,” this is our resolution.

Theology is practical. Theology therefores. The darkness of fear dissipates as the flame of faith in our refuge grows. This flame of faith is fed by God’s truth, doctrine, teaching as to who He is. The more you know God, the less you will know of carnal fear. Spurgeon comments, “How fond the Psalmist is of therefores! his poetry is no poetic rapture without reason, it is as logical as a mathematical demonstration. The next words are a necessary inference from these. ‘Will not we fear.’ With God on our side, how irrational would fear be! Where he is all power is, and all love, why therefore should we quail?”

We will not fear though… though what? Though trouble! Though anything. “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:35–39).

We will not fear “though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.”

We will not fear though towers burn and fall, though terrorists attack, though viruses threaten, though wars rage.

We will not fear though the wicked dominate the media, though drag queens seek to target children, though we are silenced and arrested for righteousness sake, though we are ridiculed, mocked, and laughed at.

God is our refuge therefore, we will not fear.

The King’s Wedding (Psalm 45)

My heart overflows with a pleasing theme; 
     I address my verses to the king; 
     my tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe.


—Psalm 45:1

Many solid commentators, especially the older ones, argue that Song of Solomon is about Christ and the church. I don’t think that theory makes it all the way down the aisle. I also don’t think it is necessary. You don’t need to make Song of Solomon about Christ and the church because marital union and communion between husband and wife are already an analogy of Christ and the church. The Song of Songs is about that which is about Christ and the church.

The 45th psalm is also “A Love Song.” It is utterly unique. It is a song of praise for Israel’s king on his being wed to a foreign bride. How did a royal wedding song make its way into the hymn book of Israel?

The psalmist tells us he was inspired. But is this the Shakespeare kind of inspiration or the Spirit kind of inspiration? Why not both? The psalmist takes up a pleasing theme that then takes him up. He takes up the pleasing theme of love between a man and a wife, and then that theme takes him up to the reality that stands behind it. The God-designed analogy is used by the Spirit to testify of the Son.

Song of Solomon is limited to earth, but the analogy it speaks of is not. Here, the analogy reaches such a fullness in the king of Israel, that the transcendent is touched. The King is God (v. 6). Derek Kinder says this “is an example of Old Testament language bursting its banks.” In the 110th Psalm David sang, “The LORD says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool.’” There, Yahweh addresses one who is David’s Lord. Here, this same Messianic figure is not just David’s Lord. He is God. And God (the Father) anoints God (the King). Hebrews 1:8–9 leaves no doubt as to who is the only one who could fulfill such language. “But of the Son he says, ‘Your throne, O God, is forever and ever, the scepter of uprightness is the scepter of your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.’”

Understanding this, consider the “plot” of this wedding procession. The King is the most handsome of the sons of Adam and He is God. Having put on the glory of conquering the foes of God, the King then takes to Himself a foreign bride who is called on to leave her people. 

The Psalmist here is inspired, but not to make an analogy of this wedding. He is inspired, but the analogy that is marriage reaches its greatest earthly heights in this wedding of the King of Israel; heights that can only reach their fullness when the King of heaven is born in Bethlehem as a Son of David: the most handsome of the sons of Adam, God and King, victorious, and taking a foreign bride.