I am tempted to write another entry about how this psalm fits within with the very interesting progression of psalms in the book of Psalms. And I am tempted to write about how this psalm and Psalm 112 are both acrostics and how they both recapitulate two of the three great themes of the Psalms: God’s great works and the expectations the righteous ones should have if they follow God. Yes, I am tempted to spend time dissecting this psalm intellectually, but even though those are all good things, I choose not to give into temptation.
I’m also tempted to write about how I feel as a response to this psalm. I could write of how my heart is often lifted high or how my heart will drag me down, and then I could describe the ways in which this psalm can reach into my life and affect my thinking and my daily routine and how it sustains me. I could write many other things about my experience with this psalm, but I’m not certain that how I feel about this psalm is really that important.
But as I read through Psalm 111, again and again, I am struck with how the declaration of praise for God’s works really has nothing to do with an interesting language construct and nothing to do with how I feel about the God’s works. God’s great works stand on their own outside of literary devices and beyond my existence. This isn’t to say we ought not to write or enjoy finely crafted words as we describe his works, and it doesn’t mean that his works don’t touch our lives: we should and they do, very much so. But his great works are great works regardless of who I am, what I write, how I feel, and whether I exist or not.
Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I buy into the narcissistic gospel which says that if I were the only person on earth then God would have come and died just for me. Now maybe that’s true, I don’t know. But I do know that the more I think about God in that way the more I am inclined to think that God is focused solely on me. Again, maybe he is, but somehow I don’t think his focus is solely on me. He certainly knows I exist, and he knows I need him, that much is true. But we need him more than he needs us. In fact, when it comes to God, he doesn’t need us at all. Do you realize that? If it were not for me, or us, all of us, well…nothing would be different about God and nothing of his nature would change. He would still be majestic. He would still be righteous. He would still be wondrous, gracious, merciful, and constant. He would still be faithful, upright, wise, and full of understanding. He would still be who he is, who he was, and who he ever shall be.
We need to think about that for a moment, or maybe for longer than a moment. The God of scripture is not a construct of our imagination and he is not here to satisfy our personal needs. He is truly real, the cause of our existence, and is constantly about the business of spreading his glory throughout the universe.
I can get pretty excited when I am able to fix a broken leg on a couch, in fact, I did that just today. (That’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? Well, maybe…or maybe not, it wasn’t a very good couch in the first place, though you should see it now!) But, when it comes to majestic works, nothing comes in even a close second to the works orchestrated by God’s own hand. And most of his works (maybe all) I don’t even have the capacity to even partially comprehend. For instance, do you have a clue what it means to actually create the Milky Way galaxy and sustain it for billions of years? (If you are a young-earth creationist, don’t get your undies in a bunch, I don’t have a clue how he would have done it for thousands of years either…the time isn’t the issue, though that is beyond comprehension too). I mean I have no way to comprehend the sheer power and wisdom required to pull something like that off…AND to make it beautiful at the same time. But his works don’t stop at mere creation, he is constantly redeeming broken creation, something that might actually be much more difficult to comprehend!
I think this is what Psalm 111 is about, or rather, it is how we should approach it. No, I don’t mean we should think about a broken couch leg, I mean we should contemplate the incomprehensible power, wisdom, and love of the God who created us and whom we are called to serve. Regardless of how I feel about my puny insignificant life and the trials and travails of it, regardless of whether I can comprehend God’s works or not, and regardless of whether I feel God’s presence, I should praise him. I should be able to lift my head from the sand of my life and cry out, for the whole world to hear, praise of God’s majesty. I should do this, not because it serves a function, though it does. And I should not praise him because it makes me feel good, though it might. But I should sing of his glory and majesty because it is true, and it is perhaps the only true thing any of us will ever really know.
