I will be careful to live a blameless life—when will you come to help me? I will lead a life of integrity in my own home. … I will reject perverse ideas and stay away from every evil. [Psalm 101:2,4 (NLT)]
Starting with Solomon, Psalm 101 was sung at the kings’ coronations. Believed to have been written by David, the psalm has several “I will” statements in which the king resolves to reign righteously, sing of God’s mercy and justice, and live a blameless life in his home. Pledging to refuse to have anything to do with wickedness, he promises not to tolerate crooked dealings or evil and to be so careful about the character of his associates that only those above reproach would serve him. He vows to be intolerant of slander, conceit, arrogance, deceit, and falsehoods and he pledges that his daily task will be to search out the wicked to free the city from all evil.
Perhaps because the psalm describes the proper conduct for a Christian king, it was known as the “prince’s psalm” in Europe. Ernest I (1601 –1675), the Duke of Saxe-Gotha (and known as “Ernest the Pious”) is said to have sent an unfaithful minister a copy of the psalm as a subtle way of voicing his reproach. It soon became a popular saying that whenever an official did something wrong, he would receive a copy of the “prince’s psalm” to read! With his deep concern about civil government, Martin Luther wrote an 80-page discussion of the psalm in which he expounded on the qualities of a Christian prince or magistrate. Those leadership qualities haven’t gone out of style and 21st century Bible teacher Warren Wiersbe suggests we simply call the psalm “Leadership 101.” Indeed, the psalm is an excellent plan both for virtuous living and good governance.
The psalm’s lofty goals, however, were written by a man who didn’t live up to them and sung for other kings who couldn’t either. I’m sure David had every intention of walking in a way that pleased God. He never envisioned raping Bathsheba, committing adultery, plotting with Joab to murder Uriah, having to deal with Amnon’s rape of Tamar, nor the family and political intrigue that comes with at least eight wives and nineteen sons. When sung at Solomon’s coronation, the new king probably was filled with good intentions, as well. He never pictured having a harem of 1,000, building pagan shrines for Chemosh or Molech, or worshipping those foreign gods. Like David and Solomon, we usually start out with good intentions but seem to lose our way when it comes to achieving them. Even the Apostle Paul admitted difficulty in putting his good intentions into practice when he said, “I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” [Romans 7:18-19]
In spite of our high ideals and lofty goals, sin loves to rear its ugly head. If people like David, Solomon and Paul couldn’t live up to their good intentions, what chance is there for us? Not much if we hope to do it on our own, but the good news is we’re not alone! “Thank God!” said Paul, “The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord.” [Romans 7:25] The rest of the answer is found in Romans 8. Today, don’t just read a portion of this beautiful chapter—please read it all.
These words were among those the kings of Israel were to copy, keep on their person at all times, and read every day of their lives. Solomon was Israel’s third king and, while we can’t know about Saul or David, it certainly seems that by Solomon’s reign, the words of Deuteronomy had been forgotten or ignored.
In a series of negative commands regarding the harvest found in Deuteronomy and Leviticus, we find an ancient form of social justice/economic equity. A landowner was not to return for an overlooked bundle of grain left in the field, olives trees were not to be beaten more than once, grapes vines were not to be repicked after the first fruit was gathered, the edges of the fields were not to be harvested, and any produce dropped by the harvesters or fruit that had fallen or separated from the branch was not to be taken. As the remainders of the harvest, these gleanings were left for the poor.
A friend once asked her mother which of her children was the favorite. I can’t imagine making such a query, wanting to hear the answer, or how I’d respond to the same question. Since I can’t even pick my favorite color, I certainly couldn’t pick my favorite child. Is it the one with the over-the-top personality who not only could sell ice cubes to Eskimos but convince them to double their order because of a possible shortage? Is my favorite the adventurous one with the wonderfully quirky sense of humor and a mind that puts Wikipedia to shame? Is my favorite the thoughtful child—the one whose faith, strength, and patience rival that of Job? If they were beverages, one child would be a doppio espresso; another spiced chai with ginger, cardamom, allspice, cinnamon and cloves; while the third would be calming chamomile tea with a touch of honey. Like those beverages, each of my children is interesting, pleasant, and delightfully unique. One challenged me, one grieved me, and one worried me. Do I love them less because of that? Absolutely not! While I love them equally, because they have been blessed with different personalities and abilities, I don’t always treat them the same. Nevertheless, I love all three of them, just each in their own special way!
Although the Apostle Paul seems to have mixed figures of speech by referring to the military with “fought” and “fight,” athletics with “race,” and religion with “faith,” all three references relate to athletics. The word used for fought was agónizomai (the root word for the English word “agonize”) which meant “to contend for a prize” or “struggle.” The word translated as “fight” was agōna, meaning “a gathering, contest, struggle.” Rather than a conflict or dispute, it referred to a gathering to see contests like the ancient games held at Olympia or the games themselves. Paul’s audience would have understood that he meant something grueling and, in their 1st century world, athletic competitions were so fierce and brutal that even the winners usually carried scars.
When one of his congregation suddenly stopped coming to church, a pastor friend asked him about his absence. The man angrily explained that he’d stopped attending because the pastor hadn’t suitably (and publicly) recognized his large donation to the church’s building fund. My friend assured the miffed man that, had the money been given to the pastor for his personal use, he would have thanked him profusely. But, he added, the money hadn’t been given to him; it was given to God! While the church truly appreciated it (and had acknowledged it in his contribution statement), the issue of both the donation and any recognition or thanks really was between the donor and God. A similar experience was shared by a friend who is in charge of the care ministry for her church. One of her volunteers quit because she felt the church had failed to sufficiently appreciate and publicize her service.
Devotions of the Heart 