From Distance to Devotion
Right away I want you to notice in Psalm 61 where it starts and where it ends. Look again at verse 1:
Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
2 from the end of the earth I call to you
when my heart is faint.
That’s where it starts. Now look at the last verse, verse 8:
8 So will I ever sing praises to your name,
as I perform my vows day after day.
That’s where it ends.
And we can see that where it starts and where it ends are two very different places.
It starts here from a place far away from God (verses 1–2) — and it ends here at a place of constant praise, in God’s presence (verse 8).
And all that’s in-between these two verses is the movement from this place to that place … from a painful distance from God to a pervasive devotion to God —
And the question is: How do we get from here [right hand] to here [left hand]?
That’s what we’re looking at this morning in Psalm 61. I want to show you three steps that will move you from painful distance to pervasive devotion. They go like this:
Desire a change
Remember God is for you
Hope in the Messiah
We’re gonna look at each of these, but first, let’s pray:
Father in heaven, Jesus taught us that it is your good pleasure to give us the kingdom, and because that’s true, we can ask now with confidence, by your Spirit, please shine the light of your word into our hearts. In Jesus’s name, amen.
So how do we move from this distance in verses 1–2 to this devotion in verse 8?
#1. Desire a change. (verses 1–2)
Now this first step is implicit in verses 1 and 2, but when we slow down, it becomes obvious. David is desperate for God to hear him. He recognizes that he’s in a bad place and he’s praying to God from that place. He’s calling out “from the end of the earth” with a faint heart. That’s what he says in verse 2, and I think he’s speaking metaphorically here.
David hasn’t literally travelled to a far away land. According to what we know about David’s life, he’s not geographically a long ways from where he’s been before. But circumstantially, he is a long ways from where he wants to be. Remember …
He’s been running from Saul for his life.
He faced the constant threat of his enemies.
Everything seems “up in the air”;
Nothing is settled;
He has what God has said, but it doesn’t seem to line up with his experience, and that creates a kind of foggy barrier.
Fog, I think, is a helpful way to think about it — because the thing with fog is that it doesn’t actually move you anywhere, it just distorts your perception of where you are.
I’m not sure what it was like for y’all, but Monday last week was a foggy morning. And I was driving the kids to school, like I do every morning this time of year, and the kids’ school was not any farther away than usual — nothing moved — but school felt farther away because we couldn’t see where we were going. It was kinda surreal.
See, when you’re in the fog, everything can seem far away because — except for what’s right here — everything else is hidden and blurry and it creates the illusion of distance. In the fog the only thing you can see is immediately around you, and so when you look out it’s as if you are looking from the end of the earth. Based upon what you can see, it’s like you’re standing on the edge of the planet.
That’s where David’s at here. He feels far away from God. He looks to God, but he sees fog. And nothing else in Psalm 61 will make a lot of sense to us unless we know what this is like … and I think we do. …
When We Feel Far Away
Maybe you’ve not articulated it the way David does here, but sometimes, do you ever feel OFF?
Does it ever seem like God doesn’t hear your prayers … partly because you can’t find the words to pray? You just pray flat.
Your grasp of the gospel seems stale.
Even in your attempt to repeat in your mind things you know you know there’s something missing.
And you try to quote Scripture that you’ve memorized but you can’t, and it feels like for a minute that you’ve forgotten all of it.
And you try to read the Bible but it doesn’t make any sense. And you’re just stuck.
And you try to turn left at a traffic light, but the car in front of you stalls, and so the light turns red before you can turn, and it makes you question the purpose of life. (Remember that?)
You just feel so far away. Have you ever been there?
I think you have.
We’ve all been there at some point. We all know what that is like. And before any kind of change can happen, you first have to recognize where you are and that you don’t like it. You have to recognize that you’re at a place you don’t want to be. And again, that’s the most obvious thing beneath verses 1–2. David doesn’t want to be where he is, which is why he prays.
And that’s why you should pray, like David does. From however distant you might feel, you are never too distant to ask God for help. Now the fog might suggest something different, but the fog, remember, presents an illusion. You can pray. You can desire things to change, and you can bring that to God. See, a bigger problem than the fog is our apathy. It’s that we get comfortable in the fog, and we choose to stay there. But no. Bring that to God. Cry out to him. Like David does. That’s the first step. Desire a change.
Then secondly:
#2. Remember God is for you. (verses 2–3)
And this is like the other side of the same coin. Desiring change is one side; knowing that God is for you is the other. And we can see it right way at the end of verse 2 and in verse 3. David cries out from the end of the earth, with a faint heart, but he asks:
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I,
for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.
This reminds us that while David perhaps felt estranged from God, God was not a stranger to him, and neither was he to God. There’s a covenant relationship here. God has revealed himself to David; David has responded in faith, and he has not been disappointed. There’s a story of faithfulness behind David’s prayer. God has been his refuge. God has been his strong tower against the enemy.
And because that’s true, and because David remembers that, it explains why he asks God to lead him from where he is to higher ground: “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”
This is a rock whose elevation is above the fog. It’s out of the fray, and that’s why David wants to go there. He is not looking to himself, or to any strategies that he can muster up. He looks to God who is outside of him … and bigger than him and for him — and this is exactly what we should do when we are in hard circumstances, but here’s the thing: too often we don’t do that.
Think about this:
Why is it that many times (if not most of the time) we make prayer a last resort instead of a first step? We don’t go to God right away, but only after we’ve tried everything else. Why is that?
That’s a real question we need to answer for ourselves. Why don’t you ask God for help more than you do — about more things in your life?
How Much of the Pie?
I want you to use your imagination for a minute. Try to see this. Imagine that your life is a piechart. [Everybody can imagine a pie chart? It’s a circle.]
Get that piechart image in your head — and I’m asking you to do a self-assessment here. Everybody see this pie, which represents all of your life, now how much of your pie do you actually pray about? …
Maybe a slice? One big slice? A few slices? Maybe half? How much? [Can you imagine this? How much do you pray about?]
Now, why don’t you pray about more? Why don’t you pray about the whole thing?
Well, the reason, as best as I can tell, is either one of two things. The parts you don’t pray about is either because you think you can handle them yourself OR you think God doesn’t care.
It’s one of those two.
You don’t go to God about it because either you believe that this part of your life is within your reach of handling OR you think it’s something too small and insignificant for God be concerned about.
Here’s an example — and it’s from parenting, so bear with me:
Say you’re trying to get the kids tucked into bed and they just won’t settle down; and so instantly you start running through different tactics — well, I need to try this; or what if I did that; or, if the kids are older, you look for the melatonin (and then you go read the directions because you’re wondering: how many can they take again?);
Or maybe you just gotta get stern and lay down the law! And I feel like that’s always a little confusing for kids because the first three times you say: “Hey, sweetie, it’s time for sleep. Sweet dreams.” And then you say: GO TO BED!
But see, you do one or all of those things because in that situation your first instinct is to exhaust every available option within your reach; your first instinct is not to pray.
And we don’t pray because we don’t think we need to, OR — and this is probably more likely — but the whole thing just feels so small and unimportant that subconsciously we think it would be a bother to God.
With everything else going on in the world, we think it’s selfish of us to ask God to help our kids (and us) to get a good night of sleep. … but it’s not.
Because these are the places we live!
And if you think you don’t need God there, OR if you think he doesn’t care about those things, then you are living something less than the Christian life. You’ve lost contact with the fact that Jesus is real. You’re underselling what it means to be indwelled by the Holy Spirit.
See, what if, right away, when the kids don’t settle down, what if, right away, you go to God? What if you just pray: God, help me! Help the kids to settle down and get good sleep. Help me not to lose my head. Help me! Lead me to the rock that is higher than I!
Look, it’s because when God saved you, he saved the whole pie. There’s not a single slice here where you don’t need him, and that he does not care about. Do you know that?
Like David, remember that God is for you. As soon as you’re in the fog, when you’re in the place you don’t want to be, run to him — because, verse 3, he is your refuge. He is your strong tower.
Refuge and Tower
And here in verse 3 I think these two images and their differences are important. Now in general, a refuge and a tower do the same thing. They share the same function in that they protect you. They guard you from harm that would otherwise overcome you. And God is that for his people. God guards us ultimately from everlasting harm, and he guards us from every harm in-between that does not lead to our everlasting good. A refuge and a tower both do that, but they do it differently, and I want us to think about this: How is a refuge and a tower different?
Well, a refuge is a condition more than it’s a place. It’s really anything that shelters you. So if a tornado’s coming a refuge could be your basement, or if you’re outside, maybe it’s a ditch.
If you’re hiking up a mountain and a storm comes, then a refuge might be, in the words of our favorite commentator, the “aloof ruggedness of a high crag” (see Derek Kidner, 237).
In other words, if you’re on a mountain and a storm comes, you just find the nearest cleft in the rock and you hide in it. That’s what seems to be in David’s mind here. It recalls the biblical scene of Exodus 33 when Yahweh shielded Moses from his glory by hiding Moses in the cleft of the rock. Basically, a refuge is the closest place you can take cover.
But a tower is different, see, because a tower is a structure that’s been built for the purpose of protection. A tower accomplishes the same goal as a refuge in its protection, but a tower is an intentional building that’s been designed and engineered and constructed with the goal of protection in mind. It’s not a hiding place in a rock, but it’s an intricate facility.
So a refuge is good for an unexpected storm when you need somewhere close to bunker down.
A tower is good when it’s that season again where the enemy always launches their attack and you need to pull up the bridge and secure the perimeter.
A refuge and a tower both accomplish the same function of protection, but we orient to them differently based upon our situation. And God is both for us. We can go to him as a refuge and as a tower, and I think these are good categories for us when it comes to prayer.
Think about it like this:
God as your refuge means that throughout the day, when something unexpected happens, whether it’s an inconvenience or a catastrophe, whether it’s a bother or a burden, whether it’s trouble or tragedy — when there’s any kind of unseen storm suddenly upon you — cry out to God! Take cover in him! Run to him and hide: O God, be my refuge!
God as your tower, on the other hand, fits with the normal, intentional means of grace that you avail yourself to everyday. You wake up in the morning and you open your Bible and you read, because you want to hear from God. You gather with the church on Sundays for worship. You pray the way Jesus taught us to pray: Lead me not into temptation; rescue me from the evil one!
And you know what that is: You are securing the perimeter. You’re inspecting the foundation. You are taking your rest in the tower.
God is a refuge and a tower for us, and we need him to be both, so go to him as both … for the whole pie, all the time.
See, we’re moving here from painful distance [right hand] to pervasive devotion [left hand]. There are three steps:
First we “Desire a change” (verses 1–2).
Second we “Remember God is for us” (verses 2–3).
And third and finally we “Hope in the Messiah.”
#3. Hope in the Messiah. (verses 4–8)
Look at this. By verse 4, we’ve basically arrived. Notice the petition in verse 4 has changed from “lead me there” to “let me stay” —
In God, David has found the place he does not want to leave. With God is where he wants to dwell. The condition of refuge here is beneath the shelter of God’s wings, and the idea is nearness. David is now close to God, already by verse 4 — and in verse 5 he highlights their covenant relationship.
God has heard his vows — God knows David’s heart and his surrender, and God has given David the heritage (or possession) of those who fear God’s name. Now what is that?
Well it’s God himself. God himself is his people’s chosen portion and cup; he holds our lot; the lines have fallen for us in pleasant places, indeed, we have a beautiful inheritance (see Psalm 16:5–6). David now is there, and he’s satisfied.
He’s in God’s presence. He’s close to God. He doesn’t need anything else. Verse 8 sums it up:
So will I ever sing praises to your name, as I perform my vows day after day.
This is life before the face of God. It’s constant praise to God and prevailing faith and obedience for God’s glory. This is pervasive devotion. And we really get there by verse 4; verse 8 is just a summary — which means we have to ask: what do we do about verses 6–7?
Who Is This King?
You may notice that these verses don’t seem to fit with the flow. David, almost out of nowhere, goes from acknowledging his nearness to God in verse 5, to verse 6 he’s talking about “the king.” Look at verse 6. David just says suddenly:
Prolong the life of the king —
And right away, we wonder who’s he talking about? Is he talking about himself in the third person? That’s possible, he can do that, but then what David says next answers our question. He says:
Prolong the life of the king;
may his years endure to all generations!
7 May he be enthroned forever before God;
appoint steadfast love and faithfulness to watch over him!
So this is a King whose years endure to all generations. This is a King who is enthroned forever before God.
So no, David is not talking about himself. He’s talking about the future King that God has promised in 2 Samuel Chapter 7. This is the King who would come from David’s lineage, of whom God said: “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Samuel 7:13). David is recalling that promise, and he’s talking here about the Messiah.
Here in verse 6, almost suddenly, David looks to the Messiah. Now why does he do that? How does it just pop up like this almost out of nowhere?
The Focal Point
Well, let’s back up for a minute, and remember the purpose of the Book of Psalms within the Old Testament. This goes all the way back to Psalm 1. The purpose of the Psalms, overall, is to tell us that there is a future for the house of David. There is hope for the house of David because the house of David is still the hope. The Psalms are meant to tell us that God will fulfill his promise to David about the Messiah in 2 Samuel 7.
And the reason that hope just pops up here in verses 6–7 is because that’s the hope that underlies everything in this book. It’s always just beneath the surface. Imagine that every time you read a statement of trust and faith in the Psalms just below that is the confidence that God will indeed do what he said and send the Messiah — and sometimes that’s just made especially clear in places like Psalm 61, verses 6–7.
In other words, David’s hope of moving from distance to devotion is Messiah-centered and he wants us to know that.
David was at the end of the earth, it seemed. He was way out there. And now he finds himself in God’s presence, near to God, and he wants to stay there. And how is that possible? What in God makes sense of this?
The answer is that it’s the heart of God expressed in his Messianic promise. It’s that God, in his utter freedom, only because of his grace, he determined to send a Redeemer to save us, and that Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, is the only way we can be with God.
There’s nothing generic about the movement happening here in Psalm 61.
The focal point of this journey is Jesus. The only way ultimately that we can be in the presence of God is Jesus Christ. And he is David’s hope.
And he’s our hope, church.
If you find yourself at some distance from God. If you feel far away. If you’re in the fog. Take heart, because God has sent a Savior for you. Look to Jesus. Yes, desire a change; yes remember God is for you; but the place you never leave is hoping in Jesus.
There’s nothing left to do. There’s nowhere else to go. The searching is over. In Christ, the distance has been bridged. Rest in him. See him as the focal point of every blessing from God that you receive. All of the Father’s favor toward you is realized in Jesus, his promised Messiah, his only begotten Son, and therefore Jesus is worthy of all our worship and devotion.
All of our praying, all our going to God as a refuge and as a tower, it’s all through Jesus Christ. And so church, let us praise him! Adore him! Give Jesus his glory! And that’s what brings us to this Table.
The Table
At this Table, the bread represents the body of Jesus, and the cup represents his blood. And two thousand years ago, Jesus told us that when we gather like this, we are to eat this bread and drink this cup in remembrance of him. We do what we’re about to do because Jesus told us to. We are to remember him and his death for us. We are to give him thanks, and together, at this Table, we renew our hope in him. That’s what we’re doing. We’re hoping in Jesus.
And so this morning, if you would do that, if you trust Jesus, if you’ve believed in him and he is the supreme object of your worship and devotion, come eat and drink. Let us hope in the Lord Jesus!
