A Savior to Be Feared
Back in 2019, we started making our way through the psalms each summer, and I’m so glad — for so many reasons. I remember a number of the sermons from over the years, and how those particular psalms met me and needs in me. In the first sermon, Psalm 1, Pastor Jonathan said,
The role of Psalms in the Bible overall is to make it clear that God has a future for the house of David — which is important because the Messiah is to come through the house of David. . . . Even when it doesn’t seem like it, even against all odds, God is going to fulfill his promise to David. David will have a descendant, the Messiah, who reigns as king forever. Let me show you! That’s what the Psalms are doing in the Bible.
So, 150 psalms, all singing the same tune: trust the promise, trust the promise, David’s son is coming, he’s really coming. And now he’s come — King Jesus — and he’s the center of everything we are and believe and do as a church. And yet we, of course, find ourselves waiting for him again, wondering again if God’s going to keep his promise — we want him to come back — so it’s good for us to hear eleven more times this summer: trust the promise, trust the promise, the Son is coming, he’s really coming.
The Psalms Know What You Feel
In addition to that primary purpose, though, the psalms — maybe more than any other book in the Bible — they teach us how to feel. Maybe more than anywhere else in Scripture, we get to see the raw emotions of faith. We get to hear what genuine faith sounds like in the midst of heartache, or uncertainty, or even anger — because genuine faith feels those things sometimes.
Becoming a Christian doesn’t mean we get to avoid all the negative experiences and feelings that come with being human in a world like ours — in fact, following Christ often means more pain and heartache in this life. The psalms, if we slow down to study them, they give authentic, faith-filled voice to so many of the things in life that hurt.
For instance, is some pain in your life making you feel abandoned by God? The psalms know what you feel: “O Lord, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 88:14).
Is some fear threatening to consume you? The psalms know what you feel: “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid” (Psalm 56:3–4).
Do you need wisdom about a hard situation or decision? The psalms know what you feel: “Teach me, O Lord, the way of your statutes; and I will keep it to the end. Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart” (Psalm 119:33–34).
Have you ever been betrayed by someone you love? Psalm 55: “It is not an enemy who taunts me — then I could bear it; it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me — then I could hide from him. But it is you, a man, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend.”
Even when we think no one else around us understands what we’re feeling, the psalms know what we feel. How merciful of God to write a book like this, a book that sympathizes with us like the psalms do.
The psalms know what we feel, but they also teach us what to feel. They don’t just sympathize with us, but they also challenge and confront us — don’t they? They show us when we feel things that we shouldn’t — and when we should feel things that we don’t. They teach us to feel grief, yes, but not without hope. They teach us to feel anger, but not without humility, patience, and compassion. They teach us not to be fearful or anxious in circumstances where we’re tempted to be — but they also teach us to fear in circumstances where we don’t. And that brings us to Psalm 76.
Our Fearful Enemy
As we walk through the psalm, we’re going to look first at our fearful enemy, then at our even more fearful God, and then finally at how fear responds in faith. I wonder what you felt (if you felt anything) as we read through Psalm 76 just now. I doubt many of you listened and thought, My goodness, Asaph took the words right out of my mouth. He knows exactly how I feel right now. No, I imagine this one feels a little further from your normal emotional life.
For one, he’s talking about shields, belts, horses, and swords — and our armies don’t fight like that anymore. We have guns, jets, radars, and bombs. But even then, most of us are pretty far removed from the battlefield. We’re, of course, aware of what’s happening in Gaza and Ukraine, so we’re acquainted with war — but not really. We’re acquainted with war (many of us, not all) a little like my 3rd grader is acquainted with paying bills. He knows that it happens, and that it’s serious (that a lot hangs on Daddy being able to pay for our house and van and food), but he’s never had to make a car payment or replace a boiler. So he doesn’t feel it like Faye and I do. And we don’t feel the tension and drama in a psalm like this because we haven’t known wars like Asaph has — or have we?
The reality is that we have enemies far more terrifying than the invaders of Israel. Yes, we do not wrestle against flesh and blood like God’s people did for hundreds and hundreds of years — but we still wrestle. We still fight. We make war, Ephesians 6:12, “against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” Do you know that — I mean really know that? Do you live like real powerful rulers and authorities and forces are trying to destroy you? Do you realize that no area of your life — no relationship, no calling or responsibility, no suffering — none of it is untouched by this battle?
If you choose to follow Christ, you’re declaring war on all of that evil — and if you’re not actively engaged in the war, you’re almost certainly losing it. And that means there’s more in this psalm than meets the eye. We may not have to worry about shields and swords and horses, but oh we have enemies — awful, hidden enemies who mean to strike us where it does the most damage.
The psalm reminds us that we have a fearful enemy, and it also teaches us how to overcome our fear of our enemies. How does Asaph overcome his fear of the killers waiting outside his front door? He overcomes fear by cultivating another, greater fear. He overcomes his fear of his enemies by remembering to fear his God.
Our More Fearful God
Three times — this is really the driving point of the psalm — three times the psalmist says, “You are to be feared” (verse 7, verse 11, and again verse 12). The God of Psalm 76 is not a cute or comfy God. He doesn’t fit nicely on that well-decorated shelf in your living room. No, in the face of sin, he’s violent and terrifying. He should make us tremble. Does he still make you tremble?
He broke the flashing arrows,
the shield, the sword, and the weapons of war.
Glorious are you, more majestic
than the mountains full of prey.
The stouthearted were stripped of their spoil;
they sank into sleep;
all the men of war
were unable to use their hands.
At your rebuke, O God of Jacob,
both rider and horse lay stunned.
But you, you are to be feared!
Who can stand before you
when once your anger is roused?
Commentators believe Asaph might have been remembering a specific event in 2 Kings 19, when God slaughtered a couple hundred thousand enemies in one night. This is verse 35:
“That night the angel of the Lord went out and struck down 185,000 in the camp of the Assyrians. And when people arose early in the morning, behold, these were all dead bodies.”
This God, we see in Psalm 76, he rebukes, he breaks, he disarms, he paralyzes, he even puts to death (sometimes by the tens of thousands). Is that the kind of God you pray to? Is that the God you sing about on Sunday morning? The God we love, let this psalm remind you, is a God of furious and consuming wrath. He’s a nightmare to his enemies.
And to be clear, this isn’t what God used to be like, as if this is what was needed back then in the Old Testament, with Assyrians and Philistines and Babylonians. No, he’s always been a God of both grace and wrath, and he will eventually do this (or worse) to all who reject him — even your really kind, generous neighbor who wants absolutely nothing to do with Jesus. In fact, the description in Psalm 76 is pretty tame next to what we know will happen on that last day. What will God do to his enemies?
Revelation 14,
“[Everyone who rejects and opposes God] will drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured full strength into the cup of his anger, and he will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever, and they have no rest, day or night.”
Christ’s coming and dying doesn’t make God any less serious about sin. Jesus actually tells us, in Matthew 10, that it will be even worse on judgment day for those who come after him and still won’t believe. This is not a safe God — at least not for anyone who won’t hide themselves in him. And that brings us to our next two verses.
Overcoming Fear with Fear
This God is to be feared, and feared by all, but he’s not only to be feared. To only fear him dishonors him. No, he means to be feared and trusted and enjoyed — that’s the miracle that happens by the Spirit. Let’s start back in verse 7:
You, you are to be feared!
Who can stand before you
when once your anger is roused?
From the heavens you uttered judgment;
the earth feared and was still,
when God arose to establish judgment
to save all the humble of the earth.
This is the point of his awful, devastating, holy war. He strikes his enemies, breaks his enemies, paralyzes his enemies, crushes his enemies, all in order to — what? — to save his people. Do you see that, verse 9? This fearful God dispenses wrath in service of mercy. It’s just for him to punish his enemies — he’s totally right to throw people into hell forever — but all of his wrath and justice is leading to and serving mercy.
This is how Paul says it in Romans 9: “What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction — people who go to hell — in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory” (Romans 9:22–23). What does it mean to be a vessel of mercy? It means we don’t deserve anything we receive from God. We didn’t deserve his forgiveness, his love, his devotion, because we were his enemies. At one time, we were dead in our trespasses and sins, separated from Christ, alienated from God, children of wrath. He could have struck us, broke us, crushed us, but he saved us.
But he doesn’t save everyone, Asaph warns us. He saves a particular kind of person: a humble one. In the end, then, there will be two kinds of people, two kinds of enemies: one will be rebuked, broken, crushed — eternal conscious torment — the other will enjoy an uninterrupted, never-ending paradise; one will die and enter a world they’d never want to leave, the other will die and find a world they will beg and plead and weep to escape. The difference, God tells us here, is humility — “God arose to establish judgment to save all the humble of the earth.” Humility — a glad willingness to bow, obey, and worship the fearful one. He opposes the proud, with awful, almighty force, but he saves the humble, and with all of that same power.
The Safest Place to Fear
This salvation helps us make sense of the first two verses in the psalm:
In Judah God is known;
his name is great in Israel.
His abode has been established in Salem,
his dwelling place in Zion.
What’s Asaph trying to say about the fearful God here? “Judah, Salem, Zion” — these are all names he’s using for Israel, for God’s chosen people (now, in Christ, this is the church). While he terrifies and conquers his proud and unrepentant enemies, this God makes himself at home with his people. They know him, and they feel safe with him.
They still fear him, and what he would do if they ever walked away from him — but because they also trust him and treasure him, he’s become the safest place in the world for them. This righteous fear reminds me of Isaiah 8:13–14: “The Lord of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread. And he will become a sanctuary” — a safe place. They don’t fear the Assyrians threatening to murder them because there’s an even more fearful one in heaven who loves them and fights for them.
Do you overcome fear that way? Is the God you worship big enough, strong enough, fierce enough to eclipse all your other fears? In Christ, we run toward the one who can throw both body and soul in hell, because in running to him, and hiding ourselves in his love, all the sovereign power and justice that would have destroyed us now keeps and satisfies us.
How Fear Responds in Faith
So, we’ve seen our fearful enemy, and then our even more fearful God, and now the psalm calls for a response from two different groups. The first call is for the church, and the second is for those beyond the church. They both come at the end of the psalm, beginning in verse 11:
Make your vows to the Lord your God and perform them;
let all around him bring gifts
to him who is to be feared.
1. To the church: Make your vows.
So, first, to the people of God: Make your vows to the Lord your God — “the Lord your God,” that’s why I say this response is for us, those who are already God’s people — Make your vows to the Lord your God and perform them. Now, we don’t talk about vows like this anymore (unless, of course, we’re at a wedding), so how might we say it? Here’s my effort: If you see how fearful this almighty Savior is, resolve right now to live for his glory — and then follow through on those resolves (perform them).
Seeing this kind of enemy and this kind of God should make us want to live in a way that honors and glorifies him. And if you’re like me, you know how easily that resolve can cool or wither over time. Spiritual resolves need refreshing — and one way to refresh them is to remember how big, jealous, and fearful our God is. He’s frightening, and he’s gracious, and he’s worthy of everything we might attempt for his glory. So what might he be calling you to vow in this season? What relationship needs some more serious attention? What conversation have you been putting off? What habit’s fallen away because you’ve been busy or overwhelmed? What new ministry dreams might God give you for your neighborhood or workplace? Make your vows, and perform them.
And as you make those vows, remember that God doesn’t make us fulfill our vows in our own strength. No, he now pours all the power we just saw in verses 3–7 into helping us be holy and love well. Remember Philippians 2:12-13,
“Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”
When the humble vow to live for him, God goes to work in them. He works in you all the kinds of thoughts, attitudes, impulses, and decisions that please him. So pray over these vows — and encourage others around you to pray for your vows. Pray like Paul does in 2 Thessalonians 1: Pray that “God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you.”
2. To the world: Bring your gifts.
The psalmist doesn’t stop with God’s people, though. He calls for a second response, again verse 11:
Make your vows to the Lord your God and perform them;
let all around him bring gifts
to him who is to be feared,
who cuts off the spirit of princes,
who is to be feared by the kings of the earth.
Those who already belong to him, prayerfully renew your vows to glorify him, and to all the rest of you, bring your gifts to the God who is to be feared. Bring whatever you’ve been given — and remember, whoever they are (CEOs, governors, presidential candidates), everything they have and every position they hold is a gift. They have nothing that he hasn’t given to them. And no matter how many people follow them on social media and no matter how many soldiers they assemble beneath themselves, they should fear God — because, verse 12, he is to be feared even by the kings of the earth, even by the richest, most powerful men in the world.
I took great comfort here this week. We’ve entered another season in America of heightened anxiety and division, as we’re all being dragged along to November. Every four years or so, we have a lot more talk of kings in our country. And all the arguing and shouting makes these candidates seem so big and powerful. We fear all they might do with their power. We fear all the destruction a presidency might cause. Fear rises and rises, and it consumes more of our energy and attention, and it starts to creep like a cloud into more and more of our lives — and then we read a psalm like this. We read about a God with this much power and wrath, a God who can do far more than any tiny president might do, a God more fearful than all our kings combined — and that God loves us. He’s on our side and nothing frightens him. I hope this reality shapes us as we think and talk and vote over these next several months.
The Belt and the Bride
I want to end with a verse I’ve skipped over until now, verse 10:
“Surely the wrath of man shall praise you; the remnant of wrath you will put on like a belt.”
It’s the most confusing verse in the psalm — and yet it might also be the most powerful. What does he mean? How does “the wrath of man” praise God? And what would it mean for God to wear his enemy’s hostility “like a belt”?
When he says “the wrath of man shall praise you,” I think he means that even his enemies will eventually be forced to bow down before him. Having just been through Philippians together, I can’t help but hear chapter 2: “At the name of Jesus every knee will bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” When Jesus comes back to finish his war against sin and death and Satan, even the wrath of man will praise him. His enemies will be forced to bow and confess — not willingly or joyfully or savingly, of course — but they will have to acknowledge his glory, even though they hate it.
But what about the belt? When the psalmist mentions a belt here, he’s not talking about the accessory that’s holding up our pants and skirts. No, this belt was a piece of armor. It shows up again in Ephesians, in the armor of God: the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the sword of the Spirit, the belt of truth. In that day, the soldier wrapped a belt around his waist to hold his breastplate and sword in place — the breastplate to protect his vital organs and the sword so that they could get to it quickly in the heat of battle. So what would it mean for God to make “the wrath of man” his belt of war? It means he not only defeats his enemies, but when he wins, he wins so decisively that he makes his enemies actually fight for him. This God, he wins his wars with enemy weapons.
The Table
And this brings us to the table, doesn’t it? I mean where else do we see God do this more than at the cross? At the cross, Satan brings all the awful wrath he can muster against the Son of God. He has Jesus betrayed, convicted, humiliated, and tortured. And what does God do? He takes those two massive, murderous beams, and he wraps all that wrath around his waist. He made the cross a belt to hold his sword. He made their wrath serve his love. That’s how he wins the war and saves his people, his bride.
And so the question for us is whether we will be the bride or the belt? Will we be the humble he came to save — and he saves all who humble themselves before him, all who confess our sins, seek forgiveness, and vow to live for his glory? Or will we be the stubborn enemies he wraps around his waist, the enemies who refused to bow and so refused to be saved?