Even with all of the wealth and wisdom Solomon had he made a very foolish mistake. After he married a number of wives and kept a number of concubines he allowed them to bring into Jerusalem and its surrounding area their own gods. Thus, it was under his rule that the “high places” were built, as it says in I Kings 11:7, “On a hill east of Jerusalem, Solomon built a high place for Chemosh the detestable god of Moab, and for Molek the detestable god of the Ammonites.” These high places, as well as many others, persisted in Israel until the time of Josiah, about 400 years later, when he finally destroyed them (II Kings 23:13). Throughout the vast majority of the intervening time between Solomon and Josiah the people of Israel offered sacrifices to these foreign gods in addition to, and often in place of their sacrifices to the one true God of Israel.
While there are other interpretations for Psalm 121:1-2, the one I believe makes the most sense is that the psalmist is contrasting the gods of the “high places” to the one true God of Israel when he looks to the hills and asks from where his help comes. His answer is specific in that he does not merely state that God helps him, but his help comes from the LORD, the God of Israel; the psalmist uses the proper name of God so there will be no mistaking which God he means. He does not look to Chemosh, nor Molek, nor Ashtoreth; he looks to Jehovah for his help; his help comes from the covenant-making God of Israel who created and sustains the heavens and the earth.
My dogs, Boethius and Erasmus, (who will be turning 9 this year — that’s 63 to you and me) and I still go on walks a couple of times a day. They enjoy all the smells they encounter; they enjoy running across the field and attempting to chase the random bird, squirrel, chipmunk, or deer; and they enjoy, much to my chagrin, the taste of goose and deer droppings, savoring them almost like I might treat a bowl of jelly beans! But one thing I realize they are enjoying less each day is the final portion of the walk when, after they are tired out, they have to ascend a set of 36 steps along the back side of the house. There are days when they, (Raz especially), will look up the steps and then to me as if to ask if they really have to climb them. And, to be perfectly honest, there have been some days recently when I think the same thing.
For my dogs there is really only one answer to the question: yes, you have to climb them if you want to come into the house and have dinner. I will not carry them and they will not carry me, we have to rely on our own strength to climb the steps. But for the psalmist, when considering the ascent to Jerusalem, there is another answer. He places his trust in God and his mercy to give him the strength to make the trek. But this help is not only provided by God to reach Jerusalem on an annual pilgrimage, but also in life when we lift our heads to see the length of the troublesome journey ahead of us. And let’s be honest here, shall we? Not everyone’s journey is equally troublesome. But the strength to manage each journey comes from the same person, and it comes in the same way.
One of the more interesting words in this psalm is the Hebrew word
But there is one thing we must not forget about God’s help and that is that we must continue to look to him for it. And, as I think about it, that might actually be the most difficult part of the life of the God-follower. One of the greatest temptations I face is the desire to be self-sufficient; I want to be able to do everything on my own and under the umbrella of my own wisdom, and I suspect others might want the same thing. This doesn’t mean I don’t rely on God, but I do slowly stop relying on him as the steps get easier and become more routine. Many are the mornings when I have woken up thinking about my day and how I will accomplish everything without once considering how I need God’s help to get through the next 15 hours or so. Each day, each hour, and each step requires that I lift my eyes to the Lord who created and sustains the heavens and the earth and realize that my help comes not from him, not me. If we don’t do this, I suspect we are not substantively different from the Israelites who looked to the high places for their help, and we all know what happened to them.
