Psalm 71-75

The Message

^4-7 My God, free me from the grip of Wicked,
    from the clutch of Bad and Bully.
You keep me going when times are tough—
    my bedrock, God, since my childhood.
I’ve hung on you from the day of my birth,
    the day you took me from the cradle;
    I’ll never run out of praise.
Many gasp in alarm when they see me,
    but you take me in stride.

^8-11 Just as each day brims with your beauty,
    my mouth brims with praise.
But don’t turn me out to pasture when I’m old
    or put me on the shelf when I can’t pull my weight.
My enemies are talking behind my back,
    watching for their chance to knife me.
The gossip is: “God has abandoned him.
    Pounce on him now; no one will help him.”

^12-16 God, don’t just watch from the sidelines.
    Come on! Run to my side!
My accusers—make them lose face.
    Those out to get me—make them look
Like idiots, while I stretch out, reaching for you,
    and daily add praise to praise.
I’ll write the book on your righteousness,
    talk up your salvation all the day long,
    never run out of good things to write or say.
I come in the power of the Lord God,
    I post signs marking his right-of-way.

^17-24 You got me when I was an unformed youth,
    God, and taught me everything I know.
Now I’m telling the world your wonders;
    I’ll keep at it until I’m old and gray.
God, don’t walk off and leave me
    until I get out the news
Of your strong right arm to this world,
    news of your power to the world yet to come,
Your famous and righteous
    ways, O God.
God, you’ve done it all!
    Who is quite like you?
You, who made me stare trouble in the face,
    Turn me around;
Now let me look life in the face.
    I’ve been to the bottom;
Bring me up, streaming with honors;
    turn to me, be tender to me,
And I’ll take up the lute and thank you
    to the tune of your faithfulness, God.
I’ll make music for you on a harp,
    Holy One of Israel.
When I open up in song to you,
    I let out lungsful of praise,
    my rescued life a song.
All day long I’m chanting
    about you and your righteous ways,
While those who tried to do me in
    slink off looking ashamed.
72 ^1-8 Give the gift of wise rule to the king, O God,
    the gift of just rule to the crown prince.
May he judge your people rightly,
    be honorable to your meek and lowly.
Let the mountains give exuberant witness;
    shape the hills with the contours of right living.
Please stand up for the poor,
    help the children of the needy,
    come down hard on the cruel tyrants.
Outlast the sun, outlive the moon—
    age after age after age.
Be rainfall on cut grass,
    earth-refreshing rain showers.
Let righteousness burst into blossom
    and peace abound until the moon fades to nothing.
Rule from sea to sea,
    from the River to the Rim.

^9-14 Foes will fall on their knees before God,
    his enemies lick the dust.
Kings remote and legendary will pay homage,
    kings rich and resplendent will turn over their wealth.
All kings will fall down and worship,
    and godless nations sign up to serve him,
Because he rescues the poor at the first sign of need,
    the destitute who have run out of luck.
He opens a place in his heart for the down-and-out,
    he restores the wretched of the earth.
He frees them from tyranny and torture—
    when they bleed, he bleeds;
    when they die, he dies.

^15-17 And live! Oh, let him live!
    Deck him out in Sheba gold.
Offer prayers unceasing to him,
    bless him from morning to night.
Fields of golden grain in the land,
    cresting the mountains in wild exuberance,
Cornucopias of praise, praises
    springing from the city like grass from the earth.
May he never be forgotten,
    his fame shine on like sunshine.
May all godless people enter his circle of blessing
    and bless the One who blessed them.

^18-20 Blessed God, Israel’s God,
    the one and only wonder-working God!
Blessed always his blazing glory!
    All earth brims with his glory.
Yes and Yes and Yes.
73 ^1-5 No doubt about it! God is good—
    good to good people, good to the good-hearted.
But I nearly missed it,
    missed seeing his goodness.
I was looking the other way,
    looking up to the people
At the top,
    envying the wicked who have it made,
Who have nothing to worry about,
    not a care in the whole wide world.

^6-10 Pretentious with arrogance,
    they wear the latest fashions in violence,
Pampered and overfed,
    decked out in silk bows of silliness.
They jeer, using words to kill;
    they bully their way with words.
They’re full of hot air,
    loudmouths disturbing the peace.
People actually listen to them—can you believe it?
    Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

^11-14 What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?
    Nobody’s tending the store.
The wicked get by with everything;
    they have it made, piling up riches.
I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;
    what has it gotten me?
A long run of bad luck, that’s what—
    a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

^15-20 If I’d have given in and talked like this,
    I would have betrayed your dear children.
Still, when I tried to figure it out,
    all I got was a splitting headache . . .
Until I entered the sanctuary of God.
    Then I saw the whole picture:
The slippery road you’ve put them on,
    with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.
In the blink of an eye, disaster!
    A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!
We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.
    There’s nothing to them. And there never was.

^21-24 When I was beleaguered and bitter,
    totally consumed by envy,
I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox
    in your very presence.
I’m still in your presence,
    but you’ve taken my hand.
You wisely and tenderly lead me,
    and then you bless me.

^25-28 You’re all I want in heaven!
    You’re all I want on earth!
When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,
    God is rock-firm and faithful.
Look! Those who left you are falling apart!
    Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.
But I’m in the very presence of God—
    oh, how refreshing it is!
I’ve made Lord God my home.
    God, I’m telling the world what you do!
74 You walked off and left us, and never looked back.
    God, how could you do that?
We’re your very own sheep;
    how can you stomp off in anger?

^2-3 Refresh your memory of us—you bought us a long time ago.
    Your most precious tribe—you paid a good price for us!
    Your very own Mount Zion—you actually lived here once!
Come and visit the site of disaster,
    see how they’ve wrecked the sanctuary.

^4-8 While your people were at worship, your enemies barged in,
    brawling and scrawling graffiti.
They set fire to the porch;
    axes swinging, they chopped up the woodwork,
Beat down the doors with sledgehammers,
    then split them into kindling.
They burned your holy place to the ground,
    violated the place of worship.
They said to themselves, “We’ll wipe them all out,”
    and burned down all the places of worship.

^9-17 There’s not a sign or symbol of God in sight,
    nor anyone to speak in his name,
    no one who knows what’s going on.
How long, God, will barbarians blaspheme,
    enemies curse and get by with it?
Why don’t you do something? How long are you going
    to sit there with your hands folded in your lap?
God is my King from the very start;
    he works salvation in the womb of the earth.
With one blow you split the sea in two,
    you made mincemeat of the dragon Tannin.
You lopped off the heads of Leviathan,
    then served them up in a stew for the animals.
With your finger you opened up springs and creeks,
    and dried up the wild floodwaters.
You own the day, you own the night;
    you put stars and sun in place.
You laid out the four corners of earth,
    shaped the seasons of summer and winter.

^18-21 Mark and remember, God, all the enemy
    taunts, each idiot desecration.
Don’t throw your lambs to the wolves;
    after all we’ve been through, don’t forget us.
Remember your promises;
    the city is in darkness, the countryside violent.
Don’t leave the victims to rot in the street;
    make them a choir that sings your praises.

^22-23 On your feet, O God—
    stand up for yourself!
Do you hear what they’re saying about you,
    all the vile obscenities?
Don’t tune out their malicious filth,
    the brawling invective that never lets up.
75 We thank you, God, we thank you—
    your Name is our favorite word;
    your mighty works are all we talk about.

^2-4 You say, “I’m calling this meeting to order,
    I’m ready to set things right.
When the earth goes topsy-turvy
    And nobody knows which end is up,
I nail it all down,
    I put everything in place again.
I say to the smart alecks, ‘That’s enough,’
    to the bullies, ‘Not so fast.’”

^5-6 Don’t raise your fist against High God.
    Don’t raise your voice against Rock of Ages.
He’s the One from east to west;
    from desert to mountains, he’s the One.

^7-8 God rules: he brings this one down to his knees,
    pulls that one up on her feet.
God has a cup in his hand,
    a bowl of wine, full to the brim.
He draws from it and pours;
    it’s drained to the dregs.
Earth’s wicked ones drink it all,
    drink it down to the last bitter drop!

^9-10 And I’m telling the story of God Eternal,
    singing the praises of Jacob’s God.
The fists of the wicked
    are bloody stumps,
The arms of the righteous
    are lofty green branches.