Now that you’ve read through the poems or most likely have at least perused some of them, it may be helpful if I explain some of the influences behind the creation of some of these new songs. The first thing to state is that each poem was written as a response to reading the Word. They did not come as a result of me living and thinking in a vacuum. In his book Life as Worship, John Kitchen says, “Worship is made up of the intricate, rhythmic weaving of revelation and response. God speaks. We respond.” Our worship is a response to God’s words. And while I don’t wish to discount worship as a result of God’s work in nature, I would suggest that truly focused worship comes as a result of encountering his daily accessible words in Scripture (though discussing such a distinction is not the scope of this present work).
The starting point for each poem was the reading of Scripture followed by prayer and meditation on the text. Then during this time of meditation and prayer, images and thoughts would lead me to compose the first line of the poem, which was often the most difficult portion of the poem. After the first image was in my mind and the first line on the page, I often sat at my desk in prayer and meditation for a few additional hours before the poem was completed and in its first rough form. Months following the completion of the last poem, I then took more time and a couple of drafts to edit each poem into a more presentable form.[1] It was during the editing that I cataloged some of the approaches (listed in the following sections) used in writing the poems. While this list is certainly not exhaustive, I hope it may be helpful to you as you read and worshipfully respond to the work of the Word and the Spirit in your life.
Construct of the Text
One of the first things I do when reading a passage of Scripture is to spend time to understand the structure and the outline of the text. I’ve found that when I understand a text’s structure, I gain additional insights that were not available at first glance. However, I won’t go so far as to say that the meaning is in the structure, but the structure certainly offers insight beyond the mere words themselves. By way of example, when reading the book of Genesis, I found that it is helpful to know that the phrase “of the generations” (towledah in Hebrew) partitions the book into ten major sections. Each section tracks the progress of God’s hand through history from Adam to Jacob. Thus, by being aware of the repetition of this phrase, I am able to understand the basic outline of Genesis, from which I can then begin to process the meaning of the included narratives.
Yet for some reason in the past when I’ve read the Psalms, I rarely analyzed the structure. I think this was because I saw them as poetry and thus not entirely rational in their construct—an assumption that I’ve found to be horribly misguided. I have found that each psalm has an outline by which we can understand its content, and furthermore, there is often a greater structure organizing the placement of each psalm in its place in each of the five books as well as the larger book of the Psalms. One of the structures of particular interest to me during this process was the acrostic. I found that nine psalms were written as an acrostic where each verse begins with the successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet.[2] But of them all, it was Psalm 37 to which my attention was most drawn.
After a first reading, it seemed that there was a structure under the surface, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I began to write a summary statement of each verse. What seemed to emerge were three major themes structured in a fairly tight outline with introductions and transitions. But after consulting numerous commentaries and scholarly works I nearly discarded my outline because the majority of these scholars saw Psalm 37 merely as a random collection of proverbial sayings. Additionally, many of these scholars went so far as to label the acrostic form in the Psalms as lowbrow poetry. They claimed that the psalmists sacrificed content for the artificial poetic structure of an acrostic. However, being stubborn as I am, these claims did not set well with me.
I was convinced that there was something to the structure and depth in Psalm 37 that others may have missed. I realize that this sounds arrogant to say that I’ve seen something that scholars have not, but the evidence seemed overwhelming. While I had to grant the possibility that I might be reading into Scripture my thoughts (eisegesis) and not pulling out of Scripture God’s thoughts (exegesis) I continued to study Psalm 37. I spent more time outlining it, labeling each section with the appropriate Hebrew letter, rewriting it in my own words, and finally writing summary statements. I even made a trip to see a professor from seminary to ask him about his opinion on the subject. And while he didn’t say definitively that my thoughts were correct, he admitted that my basic thoughts were most likely heading down the right path and that it’s certainly possible that the published scholars had missed something.
Encouraged by his words and after some further work, I concluded that Psalm 37 had three main themes within it, namely (1) the demise of wicked men, (2) the promise of an inheritance, and (3) a call to righteousness. Furthermore, these themes didn’t appear to be randomly strewn throughout the psalm as many scholars claimed, but they were found in an order that one might encounter in a well-formed sermon. The psalm begins by introducing the three main themes (vv. 1–6). The main body of the sermon is then sectioned into three parts, the first of which discusses the way of the evil men (vv. 7–20), the second the promise of a righteous inheritance (vv. 21–29), and the third a call to righteous living (vv. 30–33). It then concludes with a short summary of the three main points (vv. 34) before restating these themes in verses 35–36 (way of the evil man), 37–38 (an inheritance), and 39–40 (a call to righteousness). While there are some minor exceptions to this structure (which bears further study), I am convinced that Psalm 37 is not a collection of random proverbial statements. Such a view doesn’t seem to do justice to the intent of the psalmist or to the content of the psalm. My study of Psalm 37, which took a few weeks, helped to organize my thoughts and prepare my response. I wanted to retain something of the structure and content in my poem but still make my response a personal and genuine one. Thus, I settled on a structure that begins with an introduction of the three themes followed by sections developing each theme and concluding with a restatement of the themes again.
Scripture’s Vivid Imagery
The Scripture’s vivid imagery, which is used in many psalms to convey what is on the author’s heart, also became a source for my own imagination. The first instance of this is Psalm 1:3, where David likens the righteous man to a tree as he says,
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in season,
and its leaf does not wither.
As I read these words, I was reminded that many other trees appear elsewhere in Scripture. The first that came to mind were the two trees in the garden of Eden—the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life. From the garden where these two trees were planted flowed four rivers that watered the land. I wondered about the relationship between the trees and the life-giving water that flowed to the plants and animals in the garden, and it was not long before I thought of another tree from which a life-giving flow poured. In the Gospels, a hewn tree was used as a cross, upon which Christ, the Word become flesh, hung. And flowing down this tree was a stream of Christ’s life-giving blood, granting eternal life to all who would receive it. But these weren’t the only trees standing near a life-giving flow. In Revelation 22, there stands another tree spanning the river flowing from God’s throne in the middle of the New Jerusalem—the Tree of Life. Its fruit and its leaves are used for the healing of the nations.
As I thought about each of these trees, I wondered if they might in some way be intimately related to the liquid that flows nearby. And furthermore, I wondered if there was any connection between these trees. Thus, the poem resulting from Psalm 1 starts with the images of trees found in Scripture and continues into an imaginative interpretation. This is something that I’ve also done throughout this collection with other images the psalmists used that describe God as a fortress, that speaks of paths lighted by his Word, that tell of our own pits of darkness and despair, and that outline many other images. The Psalms often use poetic images, and so it seemed right that poetic responses would do likewise.
Placing Myself in the Psalmist’s Shoes
While structure and images were powerful and frequent catalysts for the poems in this volume, they certainly weren’t the only influences precipitating a poetic response. Many poems were written as a response to me asking if I could say the same thing the psalmist said. For instance, in Psalm 23, the psalmist says, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” But I wondered if it was accurate for me to say that he truly is my shepherd. I mean I know that he is, but do I see him as my shepherd, and do I act as though he is? Furthermore, am I satisfied enough with him so that I want for nothing more than him? Do I rest in him, knowing that he shepherds me through the troubles, trials, and pains of life, or do I resort to worry? Do I know that the struggles of life can be endured because he is with me? Do I trust in him, or do I seek other means of getting through the trials of life?
Psalm 23 continues and says, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.” Do I fully realize that when I walk through tough times that he is there, or do I revel in the feelings of loneliness? Do I realize that the psalmist doesn’t say that God will take us from them but that he is with us in the midst of these trials? As such, am I ready to walk dark paths of trouble, rejection, and temptations, knowing he is there and not necessarily taking me from them? I know I long for deliverance and for my tears to be dried, but am I ready for God to allow me to suffer and even die, not having seen justice or deliverance? I realize that Christ taught us to pray that the Father would “deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:13) and that he promises that he will “wipe every tear from our eye” (Revelation 21:4), but I also know that many of his followers died in torturous ways, “not having received what was promised” (Hebrews 11:39). It was with these and other questions in mind that I penned the poem for Psalm 23. I also used this same process of placing myself in the position of the author and asking myself numerous questions for many of the other poems in this volume.
Current Life Events
Current personal events and experiences also influenced many of these poems. For example, I was reading Psalm 112 during a week of difficult personal struggles that left me feeling empty, dry, blank, and unable to write anything in response. One morning after going to the Word and not knowing what to write, I put the Bible aside and read an article in which the author relied heavily on historical context as the key to unlocking the true meaning of a number of passages of Scripture. And even though he did proper historical work, I found that I didn’t agree with his conclusions. It was interesting to me that he and I had processed the same text and yet arrived at such drastically different interpretations. Unable to explain how he arrived at his conclusion, I began to think through how I drew my conclusions on the text in question.
I realized that for the most part when I approach the Scripture, I try to let it speak for itself, but I also rely on the scriptural and historical context to aid my understanding of the passage. Even though I might be vigilant in seeking to know what God is saying, I also know that it’s impossible for me to keep my culture, personal beliefs, longings, and desires from influencing how I encounter the text. With this in mind, I looked back at the article and recognized that the author had kept most of those influences out of his approach. It appeared that he was genuinely seeking to be consistent with the text. But it also appeared that since he was leaning so heavily on the historical context as the interpreter of Scripture, he was also implying that unless we have access to history, then we will never grasp the Scripture’s true meaning. But if this is true, then how I can know if I am viewing the proper and complete history? Maybe some historical facts have yet to be uncovered that will finally give the proper view. Furthermore, how can I keep my own personal history and biases out of the history I select and ultimately out of my interpretation of the text? Needless to say, I spent a fairly long time thinking through many questions like these regarding the influences on my reading of Scripture.
I spent so much time thinking about these questions that I felt as though I was running in a circle. Frustrated, I put the article down and reread Psalm 112, finding in the first verse these words, “Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in his commandments!” While certainly not the final word (and maybe not even a partial word) on hermeneutic debates, I realized that the Word of God was sufficient for its own purposes. Now I don’t mean to say that historical context is irrelevant, but it must be seen in its proper place, namely as an aid to uncover subtleties and nuances, not to change the prima facie reading of the text.[3] It is when I read his Word—and only his Word—that I find delight in him and in his commandments. And with this in mind, I meditated on Psalm 112:1, questioning if I was truly delighting in his Word and learning to properly fear the Lord or if I was going to the Word with my own agenda, wearing a pair of biased glasses through which to see in Scripture meanings that would be pleasing to me regardless of their truth value. With such thoughts, my poem began as follows:
Do I fear you Lord?
Do I love your Word?
Will I change my life
To match what I’ve heard?
I realized that day that I had often missed the point of reading and meditating on Scripture. I was searching for some deep and transcendent truth that applies to all of humanity but had forgotten to ask the question about what God wanted of me and how he wanted to mold my life.
Even though we must not neglect proper study by utilizing every tool at our command, we must not forget that Scripture is like a two-edged sword piercing the soul and spirit and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4:12). We are also told that it is a mirror into which we look to see who we are and by which we realize who we must be (James 1:22–25). It’s not only a historical document with wonderful structure, but it’s also a living document through which God desires to do a radical work in our lives. As a result, many of my poems were the product of being cut in two by the sword of Scripture or contemplating my reflection in its mirror.
Moments in Life
Finally, though certainly not exhaustively, there were times when experiences of the day influenced the poems. One morning, as I always do after breakfast, I was on a walk with my two Labrador Retrievers. The rays of the sun were coming through the trees and speckling the freshly cut grassy field when the two dogs took off running. For a moment I was tempted to call them back, but they seemed content, even happy, so I held my peace and let them run. Even now as I write this explanation months later, I can see them with their ears flopping and tails wagging as they chased whatever it is that dogs find to chase. It was at that moment as they were running around the field that I felt a sense of peace and comfort as if all was right with the world. I don’t mean to suggest that this was a deep and great spiritual revelation, but that brief moment allowed me to realize that God grants us pleasure even in the small and insignificant things of life.
When I returned from the walk and to my desk, I read Psalm 119:1–8 (Aleph). It says, “Blessed are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord!” Scripture says that people are blessed, and I have often wondered what that really means. I know that more often than not, it means that when we follow a deeply spiritual truth or path, God’s blessing is soon to follow. But I also think sometimes his blessings come to us in more pedestrian ways—the dew on the grass, the sun across the ocean, the mist on the mountains, even the gentle flop of a dog’s ears as he romps across a field. All of these blessings, though available to everyone regardless of belief, can also be small blessings that God bestows upon his children in their moments of need. Thus, while not the loftiest spiritual image possible and certainly not the poem I would have chosen to use as the start of my responses to the great Psalm 119, my poem on Psalm 119:1–8 (Aleph) begins with the image of God’s general blessing of a dog romping in a field. Such a blessing led me to a broader appreciation of how God’s blessings flow from following his law and Word.
[1] I struggled with the tension between keeping the rough and raw poems intact or polishing them so that they would be of higher quality as measured by human standards. But after deciding to present these poems to a wider audience, I chose to err on the side of polishing them so their rhyme, meter, and flow would have a more aesthetic appeal. If this somehow detracts from the integrity of the book, I apologize. I trust you will accept this edited book of poetry.
[2] Five chapters in Book One of the Psalms (9, 10, 25, 34, 37) and four in Book Five (111, 112, 119, 145) are written in an acrostic form. Not every acrostic psalm is complete, as some are missing letters and some have letters placed in an improper order. Of all the acrostics, Psalm 37 and Psalm 119 are the only two that appear to be complete in their current form, although there is some debate concerning Psalm 37’s completeness. For further study in this area, see the works by Freedman and Maloney listed in the bibliography.
[3] This topic is, of course, of vital importance and certainly not settled in all areas of scholarly debate. In fact, many of the theological issues of the day hinge on this very point regarding the role of historical context in scriptural interpretation. It is not my intention summarily to dismiss such a valuable debate, but when reading Scripture for personal devotional purposes, I haven’t found the historical context to be of primary importance.