Author: Josh King

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?

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.

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.

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.

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).