A Song of Ascents. Of David.

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side—

                let Israel now say—

if it had not been the Lord who was on our side

                when people rose up against us,

then they would have swallowed us up alive,

                when their anger was kindled against us;

then the flood would have swept us away,

                the torrent would have gone over us;

then over us would have gone

                the raging waters.

Blessed be the Lord,

                who has not given us

                as prey to their teeth!

We have escaped like a bird

                from the snare of the fowlers;

the snare is broken,

                and we have escaped!

Our help is in the name of the Lord,

                who made heaven and earth.

(Psalm 124)

The book of Psalms isn’t the longest in the Bible by word count—that title goes to Jeremiah, and Genesis comes in second (at least, in Hebrew). Psalms takes third place, by a substantial margin, but that’s still pretty high on the list. Additionally, it has by far the most chapters, at 150. Second-place Isaiah has only 66! Although Psalm 119 is the longest single chapter in the Bible by a long shot, on average the psalms are each quite short, well below the length of chapters in the other books. You’d think this would make them easier to digest, and to a certain extent that’s true; but the sheer number of them leads to our eyes glazing over around Psalm 11 or so, and after that they all start to blend together into a meaningless beige in our minds. As a result, only a relative handful of them have attracted widespread attention among Christians. But each one is a gem, in its own way. This psalm, known by the extraordinarily memorable and evocative title Psalm 124, is one of these hidden gems.

It’s nestled among a collection that are all labeled, “a song of ascents.” We can only suppose this refers to the ascent toward Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. Many of these psalms contain themes obviously appropriate for such journeys, undertaken especially for the annual feasts prescribed in the Law of Moses. This one recalls some some previous instance in which “people rose up against” Israel (v2), in “anger” (v3). The psalmist says that, if not for God’s intervention, his people’s enemies would have overwhelmed them like a “flood,” a “torrent,” and “raging waters” (vv4-5).

Yet, they were not swallowed up! The details of this example of salvation are not shared here; but it’s certainly consistent with many instances in which Israel seemed to be facing utter defeat, or even extermination, only to be spared against all earthly odds. The same superscript that labels this poem “a song of ascents” also attributes it to David, and it’s a good idea to take those attributions seriously, since Jesus and the Apostles certainly did (e.g. Mt 22.43, Ac 1.16-20, Ro 4.6-7); yet there is also some question as to the meaning of the preposition “of” in these attributions! Could it sometimes mean about David, or in the style of David, or something along those lines? This is a particularly worthwhile question in the case of Psalm 124, because the psalmist shifts from one metaphor—rising floodwaters—to another that is quite different!

Blessed be the Lord,

        who has not given us

        as prey to their teeth!

We have escaped like a bird

        from the snare of the fowlers;

the snare is broken,

        and we have escaped!

(Psalm 124.6-7)

Suddenly the enemy is a carnivorous predator, or even a human trapper of birds, who not only threatens to cage God’s people, but has actually succeeded! While this, again, could describe any number of occasions on which Israel faced a mortal threat, it’s also strikingly similar to the way Assyrian King Sennacherib described his siege of Jerusalem in 701 BC:

As for Hezekiah the Jew, who did not submit to my yoke, 46 of his strong, walled cities, as well as the small cities in their neighborhood…I besieged and took. …Himself, like a caged bird I shut up in Jerusalem his royal city. Earthworks I threw up against him…

(Daniel David Luckenbill, The Annals of Sennacherib, University of Chicago Press, 1924, pp32-33)

When this happened, Hezekiah and the people penned up in the city despaired. But Isaiah the prophet sent word to him,

“Thus says the Lord: Do not be afraid because of the words that you have heard, with which the servants of the king of Assyria have reviled me. Behold, I will put a spirit in him, so that he shall hear a rumor and return to his own land, and I will make him fall by the sword in his own land.”

(2 Kings 19.6-7)

The besieged Jews awoke one morning to find that a staggering 185,000 Assyrian soldiers had been killed by “the angel of the Lord” in the night (v35). Sennacherib and the rest left. Only yesterday the snare had been wrapped so tightly that all hope of rescue was cut off. Now the threat had vanished.

It’s possible that Psalm 124 is about an entirely different occasion; it’s possible the Israelites never even heard Sennacherib’s “caged bird” quip. Regardless, God’s salvation often appears in exactly this form. His people are the victims of forces far beyond their power to resist, let alone defeat. Even so,

Our help is in the name of the Lord,

        who made heaven and earth.

(Psalm 124.8)

Whatever entangles you, begins to devour you, or threatens to drown you, is no challenge at all, for him! Put your trust in him, surrender to his will, and let him rescue you from the snares of sin and death.

Jeremy Nettles

Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation?

(Hebrews 2.1-3a)

A month ago we examined the first chapter of Hebrews (ISI VI.15, 4-13-25). It explored the contrast between God’s former messengers to his people, exemplified by angels, and his final communication with man, his own Son, who is far greater in every way. Of course, that exercise was all about getting to the next point, which is illustrated by the “Therefore” that begins the second chapter. That point is this: if God didn’t even tolerate his messages being ignored when the messengers were mere servants, he will be even more jealous for obedience when he sent his Son, his very Word in human form.

The author allows no chance for his audience to miss this point. Throughout the letter his favorite tactic is to introduce a theme, and then restate it several times, uncovering a new and important detail with each repetition, until the full picture is clearly visible. In the foregoing section, the theme was still the Son’s superiority, but the focus shifted to our part in the story. In the next, Jesus’ perfection as messenger and message is tied up with his becoming like us, dwelling in a body of flesh.

For it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come, of which we are speaking. It has been testified somewhere,

“What is man, that you are mindful of him,

               or the son of man, that you care for him?

You made him for a little while lower than the angels;

               you have crowned him with glory and honor,

putting everything in subjection under his feet.”

(Hebrews 2.5-8a)

This is from Psalm 8, in which David marvels at God’s love for man. His point was that man is unworthy of the honor God has given. The author of Hebrews does not disagree; but he says David was also unwittingly prophesying about someone far greater than himself.

I saw in the night visions,

and behold, with the clouds of heaven

               there came one like a son of man,

and he came to the Ancient of Days

               and was presented before him.

And to him was given dominion

               and glory and a kingdom,

that all peoples, nations, and languages

               should serve him;

his dominion is an everlasting dominion,

               which shall not pass away,

and his kingdom one

               that shall not be destroyed.

(Daniel 7.13-14)

David meant “the son of man” in its most literal sense; God meant the Messiah. This was Jesus’ favorite title for himself. How odd for the Son of God, to instead call himself, “Son of Man”! But the prophets’ words anticipated an important detail—that God would become flesh, and in so doing would infuse David’s words with a meaning he could not have known: that by humbling himself to be born of a woman, Christ would magnify his glory all the more, and conquer all things.

At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.

(Hebrews 2.8b-9)

We can tell that this conquest is a work in progress, because we have eyes that can see the world around us. It largely maintains its doomed, purposeless rebellion against God. Yet David’s words, and Daniel’s vision, will still come to pass—indeed, they are being carried out, this very moment! The Son of Man will reign forever and ever. There will be no end to his dominion. All will bow before him, either in this present life, or before his judgment seat, when the option to do it willingly has passed. Yet he is not content to wait and gloat when that time comes. He wants to rescue as many of us rebels as will respond to his invitation and flee “the ruler of this world” (Jn 12.31) to “take refuge in” the Son (Ps 2.12). He was even willing to share, and surpass our sufferings, brought on by our sins, despite his own holiness.

For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers…

(Hebrews 2.10-11)

At last, the author has revealed the point toward which he’s been driving. This Son of God—who, as we went to some length to establish in the previous chapter, is greater even than awe-inspiring angels—joined us, the lower creation, deserving only of God’s wrath on account of our sins, in order to redeem us and make us sons of God, raising us up to sit beside him on his heavenly throne (cf. Re 3.21). Considering the length and complexity of that sentence, it’s no wonder it took so long to get us here! But there’s more, eleven chapters more. By presenting Jesus’ majesty and humility next to each other, the author has prepared us to understand an incredibly important element of Jesus’ role in his Father’s plan. It went largely unnoticed by the first generation of Christians, but it makes  the Old Testament accessible and valuable for Christians even today: Jesus is our high priest.

Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.

(Hebrews 2.17)

Jeremy Nettles

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

(Colossians 3.12-13)

The second half of Colossians is the practical application section of the book. After pointing out the falsehood of the silly new doctrines beginning to divide these Christians, Paul now stresses that they must deliberately pursue unity, all of them infused with Christ (3.11). If everyone were to actually do this, then there would be no conflicts, because all Christians would behave selflessly and righteously, giving each other no cause for complaint.

However, Paul recognizes that we’re still human—after all, he asked in the previous chapter, “If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to” fleshly restrictions from human sources? (2.20). He’s not disputing their conversion, their forgiveness, or their eternal salvation given by God’s grace. In fact he affirms, “you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (3.3). They had “put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator” (v10). But this renewal was incomplete! They still needed to “put on” many spiritual things (v12ff), and were beset by earthly desires and the “old self,” which they’d “put off” (v9), but which pursued them with a life of its own, hoping to catch and overwhelm them. The cross of Christ is an apt metaphor for the Christian’s life in the flesh—suspended between earth and heaven, suffering, humiliated and destined for death, yet joyful and content in the expectation of life and glory!

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

(Luke 9.23)

A cross is an uncomfortable place to be! As we strive toward heavenly perfection, we’re stuck dealing with earthly failures—in each other, and in ourselves. As a result, despite our best attempts to put on “compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, [and] meekness,” it’s a guarantee that we’ll also need a good bit of “patience” (Co 3.12), either due to our own failures, or our brothers’. A Christian may sometimes have “a complaint against” a brother (v13)! That doesn’t necessarily mean one brother has sinned against another; but that will happen, too. How are we to handle these conflicts? By “bearing with one another,” and “forgiving each other” (v13)!

§

What does it mean, to bear with someone? The Greek word behind this is ἀνέχομαι-anechomai, and “bear with” is not a perfectly literal translation, but it’s about as close to it as will make sense in English. It shows up, with the same meaning, when Jesus cast out a demon after his disciples tried and failed.

“O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him here to me”

(Matthew 17.17)

The fault has not been corrected. Jesus has not received a request to forgive their failure, nor observed repentance. He’s diagnosing an ongoing failure, and carrying more than his fair share of the burden created by that failure. Paul also used the same word in advance of his potentially offensive behavior, telling the Christians of Corinth, “I wish you would bear with me in a little foolishness. Do bear with me!” (2Co 11.1).

Of course, this does not mean Christians are to paper over each other’s sins, encouraging them to stray from Christ and court Satan again. But many of our frustrations with each other do not rise to that level. Often Christians take offense at each other’s behavior, but stop short of calling it sin—because they know it’s just not the case, or because they can’t make such an accusation stick, or even because they’re averse to the confrontation Jesus commands in the case where “your brother sins against you” (Mt 18.15). Frequently, they then feel free to go about handling their complaints by whatever methods they desire, mistakenly believing there is no divine commandment to follow, as long as no one brings up the “S” word. But Paul says a “complaint” should be handled with patience, forbearance, and forgiveness (Co 3.13). By the way, the word translated “complaint” has the same ambiguity as in English—maybe you have a legitimate grievance, or maybe you’re just griping.

Either way, Christians on both sides of the dispute are supposed to handle it like Jesus, when he bore with his disciples in their stunted faith; and like Paul hoped his Corinthian brothers would do, bearing with him in an uncomfortable exercise into which he insisted on dragging them. There are limits—just after his own appeal for indulgence, Paul used the same word in a negative sense, saying these same brothers already “put up with” distortions of the Gospel and of Jesus himself (2Co 11.4). This was taking forbearance too far! But the goal should be unity in Christ, and we should be eager to bend for each other’s sake.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.

(Philippians 2.3-4)

Stephen, imitating Jesus, is a strong example of selfless forbearance. He prayed on behalf of those actively murdering him, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Ac 7.60). May we all learn to bear with our brothers and sisters, as ably as our Lord and our ancestors in the faith bore with their enemies!

Jeremy Nettles

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

(Deuteronomy 6.4-9)

Moses included these words in the long speech he gave to Israel, just before he went to receive his rest and reward, and they crossed the Jordan into the land God had promised to their fathers. These verses are iconic, not only because Jesus affirmed that the first section is the most important commandment in the whole Law of Moses, but also because of the beautifully articulated commendation of God’s instructions in general. The details were sometimes taken to amusing extremes by the Pharisees, but the point—that God’s commandments should be in your heart and on your tongue at all times, throughout the day, every day—is crucial.

The first two instructions, to love God and to lay his words to heart, are inward. The rest of the list is outward and visible. At the top of the list of outward expressions of love and reverence for God and his commandments, sits one that was, and is, often neglected: “You shall teach them diligently to your children” (v6).

We live in a highly specialized society. From an early age we were taught—if we payed attention—that economic specialization is one of the hallmarks of civilization, along with things like writing, government, and social hierarchies. Specialization means people feel comfortable doing the thing they were trained to do, and paying others to do the rest. It’s certainly good to be able to have a professional wire your house, defend you in court, or remove your appendix; but it has also become the norm to outsource raising your children, and that poses a problem!

If your kids are just an accessory, like a stylish purse or a macho car, then it makes sense to keep them at arm’s length and entrust their care to someone else, assuming you have the money for it. It’s evil, but it does make sense. Of course, we all know that “children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward” (Ps 127.3). Even people who on a good day spend mere minutes with their kids, know they should agree with this, and would never willingly admit that they value other things more highly than their children. Yet their actions tell the truth, even if their mouths do not.

Later in the same chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses adds to his instructions about teaching God’s commandments to children.

“When your son asks you in time to come, ‘What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the Lord our God has commanded you?’ then you shall say to your son, ‘We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. And the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand. And the Lord showed signs and wonders, great and grievous, against Egypt and against Pharaoh and all his household, before our eyes. And he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land that he swore to give to our fathers. And the Lord commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the Lord our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as we are this day.’”

(Deuteronomy 6.20-24)

Sometimes parents practice a faith, but deliberately avoid passing it on to their children, saying that they don’t want to force it on them, and will instead let them make up their own minds, so they can have a genuine faith of their own. This is, of course, just about the dumbest load of nonsense anyone’s ever heard, and either reflects the parents’ immense stupidity—which would be forgivable—or else it shows that they don’t actually believe what they profess. Yes, children need to develop their own faith as they mature, and no parent can force his child to believe anything. But what kind of parents would refuse to potty train their child, or to teach their child how to speak, saying they’d rather wait and let the child decide which language he prefers, and whether or not he wants to sit in his own excrement his whole life? As it turns out, children need and deserve guidance, and it’s shameful, wrong—even evil—to deny them that right.

Moses had no expectation that every Israelite household would include at least one parent with a four-year degree in education. God didn’t—and doesn’t—expect parents to be perceptive theologians with ironclad answers to every convoluted hypothetical or seed of doubt. Rather, parents simply need to trust that God’s ways are best, to explain how this has been confirmed throughout history and in their own lives of obedience, and to assure their children that God’s commandments are “for our good always” (De 6.24).

Moses repeats the refrain again, later in the speech. Maybe—just maybe—it was important!

“You shall therefore lay up these words of mine in your heart and in your soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall teach them to your children, talking of them when you are sitting in your house, and when you are walking by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates, that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land that the Lord swore to your fathers to give them, as long as the heavens are above the earth.”

(Deuteronomy 11.18-21)

Jeremy Nettles

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

(Genesis 2.15-17)

We don’t know all that God told Adam and Eve in the garden. His appearance after their sin, “walking in the garden in the cool of the day” (3.8), seems a major inconvenience, but not entirely an unprecedented development, as if he has graced his creations with his presence before. In fact, we could sum up his expectations of their relationship with him thus: walk with God.

But their sin brought a change. Following their expulsion from the garden, their children began to offer sacrifices. Again, we’re not told where they got this idea, but it’s reasonable to surmise that God had expressed some instruction to them, which we can sum up: bring God your best.

But things changed again, when Cain killed Abel and shattered the first household. Eve gave birth to another son, Seth, and during his lifetime, “people began to call upon the name of the Lord” (4.26).

This nebulous calling on God’s name lasted for quite some time, but rampant sin and corruption led to God’s decision to blot mankind out, leaving only Noah and his family to renew the human race. The next major change came, when God chose a family to be specially his, telling Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (12.1). This also came with promises, but the first instruction—go where God leads—is a good summary of the relationship he fostered with the patriarchs.

Of course, that was always a stepping stone on the way to a covenant with an entire nation. The record of his instructions—and his promises—to Israel is far more elaborate than anything he had told to his previous favorites. Yet despite the verbose nature of the covenant, it’s easier than ever to summarize how he expected his people to behave toward him.

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.”

(Deuteronomy 6.4-5)

In the previous few verses, Moses practically came right out and said that this summarized the whole list of God’s commandments; but we can distill it even further. He expected Israel to love God.

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But there has always been more to worry about than our relationship with God. Loving God impels us to treat his creation properly, but just as he slowly built up his expectations for how we should treat him, he also slowly revealed how we ought to treat each other.

We read of no direct instructions to Adam and Eve as to how they should get along, but the method and order of their creation suggested the proper course to Adam, who said, “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (Ge 2.23). He saw Eve as his “helper” (v18) and was “one” with her (v24).

The change in their relationship with God coincided with a change in the relationship of man with man—partly because they’d been thrown out of Eden, and partly because the family expanded! Genesis 3 assigns new and unwelcome mutual responsibilities for man and woman; the next chapter uses Cain’s hatred to illustrate brothers’ duty to look out for each other’s best interests.

As time went on both humanity and sin multiplied. God gave new instructions for interpersonal relationships after the flood, in an attempt to start over with a clean slate.

“From his fellow man I will require a reckoning for the life of man.

        Whoever sheds the blood of man,

                       by man shall his blood be shed,

        for God made man in his own image.”

(Genesis 9.5-6)

It’s not that no one had ever thought to settle a score before—that was the default, ever since Lamech proclaimed, “If Cain’s revenge is sevenfold, then Lamech’s is seventy-sevenfold” (Ge 4.24). In fact, in Noah’s time God was instituting a limit on vengeance, and sanctioning authorities’ use of violence to serve justice. This one is easy for us to summarize—stop killing each other.

But that’s a low bar to clear, and God never intended to leave it there. When he made his covenant with Israel, it came with two apex commandments. The first—love God—we’ve already examined. But when Jesus was asked by a lawyer, “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” (Mt 22.36), he answered with the commandment just mentioned, then added: “And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (v39). This was a quotation from Leviticus 19.18, and summed up God’s expectations for how his people should treat one another.

But whereas the proper relationship with God was fully explained—even if not actually achieved—in the Law of Moses, there was another step remaining, for the proper relationship between human beings.

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”

(John 13.34)

This was always the goal, but it wasn’t clearly visible until Jesus became flesh, lived, and died by the principle of perfect love for others. Now, he tells his followers that it’s not really enough to love your neighbor as yourself. To truly follow Jesus, you must love others, as Jesus loves you.

Jeremy Nettles