Psalm 7:6The MessageStand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it’s judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I’m ready, confident in your verdict: “Innocent.” See the chapter |
21 Cross References
God makes everything come out right; he puts victims back on their feet. He showed Moses how he went about his work, opened up his plans to all Israel. God is sheer mercy and grace; not easily angered, he’s rich in love. He doesn’t endlessly nag and scold, nor hold grudges forever. He doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve, nor pay us back in full for our wrongs. As high as heaven is over the earth, so strong is his love to those who fear him. And as far as sunrise is from sunset, he has separated us from our sins. As parents feel for their children, God feels for those who fear him. He knows us inside and out, keeps in mind that we’re made of mud. Men and women don’t live very long; like wildflowers they spring up and blossom, But a storm snuffs them out just as quickly, leaving nothing to show they were here. God’s love, though, is ever and always, eternally present to all who fear him, Making everything right for them and their children as they follow his Covenant ways and remember to do whatever he said.
The enemy hunted me down; he kicked me and stomped me within an inch of my life. He put me in a black hole, buried me like a corpse in that dungeon. I sat there in despair, my spirit draining away, my heart heavy, like lead. I remembered the old days, went over all you’ve done, pondered the ways you’ve worked, Stretched out my hands to you, as thirsty for you as a desert thirsty for rain.
Please get up—wake up! Tend to my case. My God, my Lord—my life is on the line. Do what you think is right, God, my God, but don’t make me pay for their good time. Don’t let them say to themselves, “Ha-ha, we got what we wanted.” Don’t let them say, “We’ve chewed him up and spit him out.” Let those who are being hilarious at my expense Be made to look ridiculous. Make them wear donkey’s ears; Pin them with the donkey’s tail, who made themselves so high and mighty!
Get up, God! Are you going to sleep all day? Wake up! Don’t you care what happens to us? Why do you bury your face in the pillow? Why pretend things are just fine with us? And here we are—flat on our faces in the dirt, held down with a boot on our necks. Get up and come to our rescue. If you love us so much, Help us!
Suddenly the Lord was up on his feet like someone roused from deep sleep, shouting like a drunken warrior. He hit his enemies hard, sent them running, yelping, not daring to look back. He disqualified Joseph as leader, told Ephraim he didn’t have what it takes, And chose the Tribe of Judah instead, Mount Zion, which he loves so much. He built his sanctuary there, resplendent, solid and lasting as the earth itself. Then he chose David, his servant, handpicked him from his work in the sheep pens. One day he was caring for the ewes and their lambs, the next day God had him shepherding Jacob, his people Israel, his prize possession. His good heart made him a good shepherd; he guided the people wisely and well.
God enters the courtroom. He takes his place at the bench to judge his people. God calls for order in the court, hauls the leaders of his people into the dock: “You’ve played havoc with this country. Your houses are stuffed with what you’ve stolen from the poor. What is this anyway? Stomping on my people, grinding the faces of the poor into the dirt?” That’s what the Master, God-of-the-Angel-Armies, says.
“Now I’m stepping in,” God says. “From now on, I’m taking over. The gloves come off. Now see how mighty I am. There’s nothing to you. Pregnant with chaff, you produce straw babies; full of hot air, you self-destruct. You’re good for nothing but fertilizer and fuel. Earth to earth—and the sooner the better.
Wake up, wake up, flex your muscles, God! Wake up as in the old days, in the long ago. Didn’t you once make mincemeat of Rahab, dispatch the old chaos-dragon? And didn’t you once dry up the sea, the powerful waters of the deep, And then made the bottom of the ocean a road for the redeemed to walk across? In the same way God’s ransomed will come back, come back to Zion cheering, shouting, Joy eternal wreathing their heads, exuberant ecstasies transporting them— and not a sign of moans or groans.
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