Psalm 124 (Summer of Psalms #7)

In the summer of 1989 I was sixteen years old and I was living the life.

First of all, I had a car. A 1976 orange Chevrolet Monza with a fake leather top. Sweet, right? Actually, no. It was Chevrolet’s weak, pathetic excuse for a Mustang. But it was all I could afford.

That summer I got a job working for my uncle, who paid me $3.25 an hour. I was raking it in. It was amazing.

The complication was that my hometown was about an hour from where my aunt and uncle lived, so I stayed with them during the week and drove home on weekends to see family and friends. I was still trying to be part of my summer swim team, and rather than make an hour drive every day for practice, I found a local pool, practiced there, and then drove to our meets, which were held all around southwest Iowa and southeast Nebraska.

On this particular night the meet was about forty-five minutes away. I got off work a little early, ran home, changed, grabbed some food, and made the drive. I had a good swim, connected with friends, and then the meet ended around nine-thirty or ten at night.

My sweet 1976 excuse for a Mustang needed gas, so I stopped at the local convenience store, filled it up, and then figured I needed filling up too. So I went inside and got a 32-ounce fountain drink — the sweet nectar of life — jumped in my car, cranked my tunes, and headed out. Sixteen years old, ten o’clock at night, sucking down caffeine, driving my orange Monza. Living the dream.

This was 1989, before seat belt laws had passed. But I was a good kid and I always wore mine. Except on this night.

Just as I got outside of town, sipping on that 32-ounce drink, I realized I had never put my seat belt on. So I set the drink down and reached back to grab the belt — and at exactly that moment, two deer decided to go for an evening jog straight across the highway.

I did what anyone would do and slammed on the brakes. And in that attempt to slow down, everything slowed down. It went into slow motion. I watched the lead deer just miss the front right corner of my car, while the second deer was putting on her own brakes — and my side mirror nicked her ear as I squeezed right through.

You can imagine what my heart was doing. And not because of the caffeine. I immediately finished putting on that seat belt, exactly as I had originally intended, because for a second I thought I was going to have deer coming through the windshield. My dinky little Monza probably would not have pushed them out of the way. I think they weighed more than the car.

And I immediately started praying. Thank you. Thank you, God, that you protected me.

Everyone Prays in That Moment

There is a psychology professor who has spent years researching religion, and prayer in particular. And in his surveys, people who identify as atheists have admitted that after moments exactly like the one I just described, they prayed.

When we are about to face something dangerous, or we have just come through something dangerous, or we find ourselves in the aftermath of something dangerous, we pray. There is an innate desire in us for safety. We want everything around us to be okay. When it is not okay, we pray. And when we come through and it is okay again, we pray.

Today in Psalm 124 we hear David talk about coming through something genuinely dangerous — something that could have destroyed them. And like a sixteen-year-old threading between two deer, they pray and celebrate.

But what we are going to see is that on the surface this looks like a psalm about safety, and as we dig in I hope you will see there is something far more important and far deeper here. Because if all you take from this psalm is safety, you are going to miss something that will genuinely help your faith.

The Text: Psalm 124

“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.”

The Gospel of Safety

I think most people in our culture read this and land on the theme of safety. I would say our functional theology in this world is what I would call the gospel of safety.

We long for safety. We want safe neighborhoods. We want our schools safe, our workplaces safe, our public spaces safe — the pool, the ball fields, the shopping center, the state parks. That is why it is so devastating when we hear that something happened in a place we assumed was safe.

So when we read Psalm 124 and see God bringing his people through the snare and saving them from their enemies, we conclude: God wants me safe. And therefore all I have to do is believe in God and he will keep me from all harm.

You can probably sense a “but” coming. You are right. Before we get there, let me put two disclaimers on this.

First, I am not longing for anarchy. I do not want life to devolve into chaos. I do not want war. I do not want crime running rampant. I do not want kids bullied at school. I want our neighborhoods safe. I am just like you.

Second, I do not want you to think I am concluding that God does not care, or that God intends harm. I do not believe that at all. We will come back to it, but I genuinely believe God cares for us.

However. What most of us do is fall into this gospel of safety — and by believing it, we set our faith up to falter and fail.

Because what the gospel of safety tells us is: if you do certain things, God will do certain things. If I live sexually pure enough, God will protect me from divorce. If I live morally enough, he will keep me from getting fired. If I read my Bible enough, or say the right prayer, he will keep me safe on vacation.

The problem is, if that is what you believe about God — if I do this, he gives me that — what happens when you do not get it? What happens when you end up in the dangerous situation? What happens when the deer do not part and you do not come through?

Suddenly: has God abandoned me? If you do get fired, is God punishing you? If a child is abused by a parent, is God a negligent parent who does not care about the little kid?

Thankfully, the gospel of safety is pseudo-Christianity. It is not real. It is not how this works.

Because what the gospel of safety does is lower the relationship God wants with you from a personal relationship to a contractual one. If I do this, you do that. And that is not the kind of relationship God wants.

If you doubt that, read the Gospels and watch Jesus’ conversations with the religious leaders of his day. When God instituted the Mosaic covenant — the Old Testament law for Jewish society — he repeatedly warned that certain actions carried natural consequences, and because he loved them, he would discipline them. But it led the people to a place of: if we do good things, God does good things; if we do bad things, God does bad things to us. And that is what the religious teachers were passing along.

The problem was that over and over, as God established law, they broke it. And every failure proved the point: you cannot do this. You want a contractual relationship with God, but you will fail every time. That is why we need Jesus.

So when Jesus arrives on the scene, he begins correcting this error in their thinking — and ultimately fulfills the law himself. He is the only one who ever did it perfectly. And then he went and paid the penalty for us by dying on the cross. Because what God wants for you is a personal relationship. He loves you, and he does not want you falling into the error of thinking that if you just do the right thing, he will protect you from all harm.

Which means there is something deeper happening in Psalm 124. So let us go back and reread it — this time taking off the safety glasses and asking what God actually wants us to see.

This Is a Song for a Whole Nation

Many of the psalms we have looked at this summer were written by King David, and most of them show us David’s personal struggle. This one is different. David wrote it, but it is not really about him. It is a song written for all of Israel to sing.

You can see the evidence right in verse 1: “If it had not been the Lord who was on our side” — and then it is almost as if he stops and says, wait, I did not hear you. “Let Israel now say” — and he repeats it.

As I was working on this, it reminded me of Vacation Bible School this past week, where our church partners with a couple of other congregations for a citywide VBS. If you served, thank you — you gave those kids a fantastic week. I got to help with the outdoor games.

Each night had a theme, and every time you said the night’s phrase — something like “God is in charge!” — the kids were supposed to shout back the response. But out at games, we would finish, gather everyone together, work the game around to the night’s theme, and land on “So we know that God is in charge!” — and about six kids would be paying attention enough to answer.

So we would say, Come on, you can do better than that! We’re outside — let’s let those houses back there hear us! And then you had to plug your ears, because otherwise they would start bleeding. They would absolutely scream it.

That is essentially what David is doing. If the Lord had not been on our side — Israel, I’m about to tell you our story, sing it with me — let all Israel say it!

Which tells us this is not David singing about his own personal safety, or about how God got his 1976 Chevy Monza through two deer. This is about all of Israel. It is a corporate prayer. Which means it is about more than safety.

It Is About Survival — and Identity

Look at verse 3. David says that if their enemies had gotten their way, “they would have swallowed us up alive.” And he does not stop there. Verse 4: “then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us.”

He is talking about their very existence as a nation. He is not merely saying God, thank you for keeping us safe. He is saying God, thank you for protecting our identity.

I have come to think this entire psalm is about identity. Yes, there are themes of safety and protection and peace and survival. But when you boil it down, it leads you to the question: where is my identity found?

For Israel, their identity was to be found in God. Look at verse 8: “Our help is in the name of the Lord.”

Notice he did not say our help is in the power of the Lord, or the reality of the Lord, or the presence of the Lord. Our help is in the name.

Your name is the leading part of your identity. When someone hears your name, certain things come to mind. David knows that God’s name is the leading part of God’s identity. God has a reputation. God has fame. God has power — he is so powerful he made all of heaven and earth.

And David is saying: if we did not have our identity in God, if the Lord had not been on our side, we would have been finished. We would have been wiped out. We would have been erased as a nation.

So the only way Israel survived was by having their identity in God.

Now David wrote this about two thousand years before Christmas. We are reading it about two thousand years after Easter. If David could jump to our side of history, I think he would write that final line differently. He would not just say our help is in the name of the Lord. I think he would say our help is in Christ — through the cross, through the resurrection, our help is in the gospel.

So I believe David is calling us to place our identity — everything that we are — into the gospel.

But Our Culture Offers a Hundred Alternatives

The problem is that we live in a culture constantly trying to get us to put our identity in something else.

When I use the word identity, I mean the way you view yourself and the way other people view you.

Now, all of us carry multiple identities — not because of any disorder, but simply because I am a father, and I also have an identity as a husband. Those are slightly different; the way I love my wife needs to be different from the way I love my children. Likewise I am a pastor, but I also work out at the local rec center, and the people there see me as a swimmer, not a pastor. Many of you here see me first as a pastor and have no idea I am in the water three times a week.

But for most of us, one of those identities percolates to the top and becomes the lead. That is how we see ourselves, and often how we want others to see us.

And our culture says: find your identity in your race. Or your gender. Or your sexual preferences. Or your job, or the car you drive, or the clothes you wear, or a particular relationship, or your hobby, or the thing you are passionate about, or the field where you have accumulated the most knowledge. That is where your identity belongs. And if you just find the right one and are true to yourself, you will finally have peace.

I think David is warning us in Psalm 124 against a misplaced identity. Because Israel’s identity was in God, they were protected. Had it been in anything else, the consequences would have been devastating.

So let me show you three consequences of a misplaced identity — working backward through the psalm.

1. A misplaced identity leads to fear and insecurity

Verses 6 and 7: “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!”

I am sure that bird, escaping the snare, felt something like I felt squeezing between two deer. Pure relief. Joy in the moment.

But how do you think that bird felt while it was still in the snare? Filled with fear. Struggling to get free. Wondering whether someone was coming to capture it and kill it, or whether the rest of its life would be spent in a cage.

If you place your identity in something other than Jesus, you run the risk of living in that fear and insecurity.

Here is an example. Some of you are parents. If your primary identity is parent, then you cannot comfortably let your child go to a friend’s house, or the park, or anywhere — because what if something happens? What if they get hurt? Good parents do not let their children get injured. What if something tragic happens and they end up in the hospital? Good parents do not do that. What if they die? So you wrap your child in bubble wrap and never let them do anything, because if something happened, your identity is ruined. You live in fear.

Or take it further. You are at the grocery store, and you want your identity to be good parent. But your child is doing what children do — low on sleep, not feeling great, wanting something — and starts making a scene in the middle of the store. And you feel like everyone around you is thinking what a horrible parent you must be. You are mortified, because good parents have children who behave perfectly and are sweet to everyone. So you flee the store, because you cannot stand the embarrassment.

2. A misplaced identity leads to confusion

Verses 4 and 5: “then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us; then over us would have gone the raging waters.”

Anyone here seen the film The Impossible? It is about ten years old now. It is intense, but it is a good film, and it is a true story about a family who traveled to Thailand for Christmas and were there when the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami hit — a disaster that killed over 200,000 people and displaced roughly a million and a half.

It is called The Impossible because it is the impossible story not only of how they all survived, but of how they found each other after the waves separated them completely. And the reason finding each other was so hard is that after the tsunami, everything was chaos. You watch the devastation, and then you watch the father reach a hospital searching for his wife — patients outside because there are not enough beds, governments trying to respond without knowing how. Absolute and utter confusion.

If your identity is in something else and a wave hits, you will find yourself in that confusion.

If your identity is in a particular relationship and that relationship breaks — a divorce, or a death — that relational tsunami drops you into confusion. You do not understand. You find yourself praying, God, why are you letting this happen?

Or if your identity is in your job, and an economic wave rolls in and you are one of the casualties — suddenly you are lost. This is who I am. This is what I am good at. This is where I found fulfillment and peace. And it has been taken.

3. A misplaced identity can lead to losing your identity entirely

Verse 3: “then they would have swallowed us up alive, when their anger was kindled against us.”

Imagine I pulled out a small piece of foil-wrapped chocolate with a little paper tag sticking out and asked you to identify it. Most of you would name the brand instantly. Well done.

But if I gave it to you, would you take it home and set it on a shelf as a decoration — that’s the chocolate I was given at church one Sunday? No. You would unwrap it, pop it in your mouth, and obliterate it. You would chew it up and swallow it. (And as your friend and pastor, I will just say you can do better than that particular chocolate. Clearly some of you disagree.)

My point is: the moment you swallow it, what is its identity? It has none. It is gone.

David is saying that if their enemies had swallowed them, defeated them, they would be no more. They would have no identity left.

And that can happen to you when your identity is in the wrong thing. Because when the tsunami hits, you do not merely get afraid and confused. Sometimes you feel like you have lost yourself and no longer know who you are.

This is why David reminds his people to place their identity in something that does not change — so that no matter what happened to Israel, and no matter what happens to you, your identity remains. Because God is consistent. God is eternal.

And again: if David were writing on our side of history, I think he would be calling us to the gospel.

So what is your primary identity in? Is it being a parent? Your job? Your finances? Your gender? Or is it Jesus?

So How Do You Actually Build a Jesus-Centered Identity?

Good question. Thankfully, Paul tells us — and it comes from Colossians, which we will begin studying together in a couple of weeks.

Quick background: most of the churches Paul wrote to were churches he planted. There were two exceptions. One was Rome, though he eventually got there — as a prisoner, not a church planter. The other was Colossae, a small town roughly a day’s walk from Ephesus. Some believers who came to know Christ through Paul’s church plant in Ephesus made their way back to Colossae, shared the gospel, and a church was planted. Word reached Paul and he was so excited he had to write to them — but he also wanted to make sure they understood the gospel they had believed, because there were so many false ideas circulating. He wanted to shore up their faith and make it firm.

So in chapter 1 he starts by rehearsing the gospel, reminding them who Jesus is and what Jesus did. That is where you get that beautiful poem — that Jesus is the visible image of the invisible God, that he gave his life for you, that when you put your faith in him your sins were washed away. And then he adds that God is not done with you: he wants to bring you to maturity in Christ. The way we say it here is that God wants you to live like Jesus lived and love like Jesus loved.

Then in chapter 2 he explains how. Verses 6 and 7: “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith.”

In other words: the way the Colossians received Jesus — the gospel — is the way they are to continue with Jesus. And by continuing through the gospel, by continuing to follow Jesus, they become rooted and built up in him and established in the faith. Their identity gets planted in Christ. And as that union deepens, they will naturally begin to live like Jesus lived and love like Jesus loved.

So if you are here and have never put your faith in Jesus, I invite you to make today your spiritual birthday — the day you receive the gospel, believing that Jesus died on the cross for your sins and rose again, and placing your faith entirely in that story.

But many of you have already done that. The good news is: continue the way it began. Continue with the gospel.

What Advice Would You Give?

Let me try something. Imagine you have a close friend, or a family member, or a coworker who has been asking you spiritual questions. You have been answering them. And they reach the point where they realize the gospel is true, and you get the joy of praying with them as they commit their life to Christ.

I have had that moment several times, and it is wonderful. I wish God would let me have it over and over.

So picture it: you finish praying, they say amen, and they look up at you and ask, So what do I do now?

What advice do you give? When I asked our congregation, the answers came quickly.

Read your Bible. Usually the first thing anyone says. Good.

Pray. Develop this relationship with God. Remember, it is not contractual, it is personal. He wants to talk with you.

Share it. Tell other people.

Find community. Get involved in a church. Get into a small group. Build relationships with other believers who will disciple you in your faith and whom you will influence in return.

Trust and surrender daily. Just as you began by trusting and surrendering, keep doing exactly that.

And I have heard people add: serve. Get involved. God made you to be a blessing, so find a way to bless other people.

Now here is the question. If that is the advice you would give someone who just put their faith in Jesus — if that is how the journey with Jesus begins — why would we not simply keep doing it?

It is so simple. It almost feels like something for kids. It is so basic. And yet Paul is saying exactly that: just as you came to Christ and began this relationship, continue in it. Walk in it.

Because doing these small, daily, mundane things is precisely what gets you rooted and built up. You become more like Christ, and your identity gets tied to him.

And when you are rooted — when you are on that firm foundation — then when the waves come, when the winds blow, when you do not miraculously thread between the deer and instead you end up in the ditch, when the job ends, when the relationship ends, when the bank account empties, when you find yourself in the crisis moment — deep down, nothing has changed. On the surface it may look like chaos, and you may still feel fear. But underneath you have a peace that surpasses understanding, because your relationship with your eternal God has not changed.

I think David wanted that for the Israelites. I want it for you.

So tomorrow: open your Bible. Have a conversation with God. Let someone else into your life. Just keep doing these very basic things — and watch God change the world. Because he wants more for you than your safety. He wants you in union with him.

Let Us Pray

Heavenly Father, take these thirty-five minutes and make them a reality in our lives — that we would live this out day in and day out, that your gospel would become the absolute center of who we are, that we would be Jesus-centered people.

But we cannot do this in our own strength. We have tried so often to turn this into a transactional relationship with you. So help us not to read our Bibles out of duty, but with joy, because we get to know you. Help us not to pray because we think it is a requirement, but because we get to come into the presence of a perfect, holy God — we get to approach your throne of grace with confidence. Help us not to come to church on a Sunday because it is what good people do, or because it might appease an angry God, but because we get to learn from the Scriptures, get to sing to you, and get to be with other believers. Help us structure our days and our time so that we are meeting one-on-one and in groups, letting you use other people to make us more like Jesus, and using us to do the same for them.

Help us to do these simple daily disciplines not out of duty but out of joy — because I believe you want to do something great in us so that you can do something great through us.

I long for this church to be a people who are such a blessing to their world that people cannot help but notice something is different — and they find themselves drawn not to us as individuals, not to this church as an organization, but to Jesus. Because you loved them so much that you did not want them separated from you by sin. You came into this world, Jesus, and lived the only sinless life ever lived, and then died in the sinner’s place on the cross. And by absorbing that penalty, you freed us like that bird from the snare. The snare is broken. We have escaped from our sin, and we are free to enter into relationship with you.

So I pray for anyone here, or online, or listening later, who has not put their faith in you — that they would hear you calling, that they would put their identity in you first and foremost, and that it would change them at the deepest, most fundamental level. That they would go from spiritual death to spiritual life, from spiritual orphan to your child, from darkness into your light.

And I pray for my brother or sister in Christ who once knew this truth and lived in it, but has let the things of life distract them — who now finds themselves simply praying for safety and no longer longing for you. Raise up that hunger again. Help them long for you above all else.

And God, I do pray that you would keep us safe. I pray you would protect us physically, emotionally, and mentally. I believe you can. I believe you delight to. It is only that sometimes we want that instead of wanting you. So in these next holy moments of communion, shake those things loose. Purify our desires. Let us delight in you and you alone.

Because our help is in the name of the Lord. And it is in that name we pray, amen.