I once knew a minister who was famed for his long prayers. L-o-n-g prayers. Prayers that could start in the a’s and b’s but leave me in the z’s, as in snoozing. At first, I cringed when he got up to pray, but after a while I welcomed the naps.

 

 

That says nothing good about my personal spirituality, but it does suggest something about the wisdom of stretching public prayer to the limit.

 

 

The Old Testament’s longest prayer is found in Psalm 119, a full 176 verses that would literally go from a to z except the Hebrew alphabet ends in a different letter, so it goes from alef to tav.

 

 

The psalm contains some elements of lament, but it’s mainly a wisdom psalm, designed to display an absolute love for God’s torah – not so much God’s law, as often translated, but the sum total of God’s teaching.

 

 

In some ways, the psalm is like a long-play rap song, filled with wordplay and repetition, a paean of praise for God’s teaching and a plea that divine instruction might be embedded in the psalmist’s heart.

 

 

The psalmist built his prolonged prayer on the skeleton of the Hebrew “alefbet” so that it consisted of 22 stanzas of eight verses each. [DD] Adding to the psalm’s over-the-top complexity, each of the eight verses in each stanza begin with the same letter. That is, the first eight verses each begin with the letter alef, the next eight with bet, the next with gimel, and so on to the final eight verses, each of which begin with tav.

 

 

The psalmist furthermore interweaves eight thematic allusions to God’s commandments or teachings into the psalm so that all of the 22 sections include at least six of the eight terms, along with a few others. [DD]

 

 

Tackling all 176 verses of Psalm 119 would be quite a chore, and with its repetitive themes, unnecessary. This week’s lesson, the fifth of the 22 stanzas (vv. 33-40), provides an excellent summary of the psalmist’s concern.

 

In this section, all of the verses begin with the letter hē (pronounced “hay”). This made the alliteration easy, because the causative form of the Hebrew verb system adds the letter hē to the beginning of the word. Verses 33-39 all begin with verbs in that form, and v. 40 begins with the interjection hinē, which means “look,” “behold,” or “see.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The verbs that begin vv. 33-35 also have first-person pronoun suffixes attached: “teach me,” “give me,” “lead me.” This gives the verses a very personal appeal: the psalmist recognizes his lack and asks God to guide him in a closer walk.

 

 

The poet wants to follow God’s way, but he knows that staying on the path is not easy. “Teach me, O LORD, the way of your statutes, and I will observe it to the end” (v. 33). He appeals to Yahweh as the ultimate guide, and pledges to remain faithfully on the road of obedience.

 

 

Memorizing precepts and understanding them are two different things, so the psalmist asks to go deeper. He doesn’t want to know just the content of the divine torah; he wants to truly grasp its meaning and make it a part of his life: “Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart” (v. 34).

 

 

For the Hebrews, the heart encompassed one’s thought and decision-making as well as one’s emotions. To observe the law with one’s whole heart was to do so with all of one’s being. No doubt the psalmist was familiar with the command of Deut. 6:4 to “love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”

 

Verse 35 appeals again for divine assistance in remaining true: “Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it.” Note the psalmist’s thematic words “statutes,” “law,” and “commandments.” He does not define the terms or draw any fine distinctions between them. His concern is that God’s teachings, in whatever form, help him to walk in the way that pleases God, “for I delight in it.”

 

 

The skilled sage recognized that God’s teachings are far more than rules people could recite and think they have arrived. Rather, life with God is a journey in which we are to be constantly engaged with learning about and living out God’s way.

 

 

Do the psalmist’s words resonate with us? How often do we give even the least thought to seeking God’s way as we go through the day? Consider how it would profit our spiritual lives if we began each morning with a prayer that God would teach us, touch our hearts, and guide us through the hours. These verses would be a good place to begin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The psalmist’s desire to live faithfully was genuine, but he recognized his human weakness and the allure of going off track. Thus, he prayed that when tempted to stray, God would direct him back to the right way.

 

 

Would any of us deny that we live in a materialistic, self-driven culture – and that it affects us? Our natural tendency is to be more concerned with financial prosperity than with spiritual growth. Perhaps we need to pray with the psalmist “Turn my heart to your decrees, and not to selfish gain. Turn my eyes from looking at vanities; give me life in your ways” (vv. 36-37).

 

 

Notice the difference: the psalmist asked God to turn his heart toward a life in keeping with God’s teaching, and to turn his eyes away from “selfish gain” and “vanities.” The word translated as “vanities” refers to things that are worthless, vain, or empty. We can’t model divine lovingkindness if our lives are ruled by selfishness.

 

 

In our quest for success, do we pursue things that are truly worthwhile, or things that have little value in the ultimate scheme of things? What the psalmist wanted was not the comforts of life, but life in its deepest meaning: “give me life in your ways.”

 

 

What are some ways in which a life focused on God-inspired justice and kindness might be different from the self-directed and materialistic life taught by our culture?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the final section, the poet pleads that God will be true: “Confirm to your servant your promise, which is for those who fear you” (v. 38). Hebrew has no word that specifically means “promise.” The assumption was that one’s words should be followed and therefore constituted a promise. Often, however, the term ‘imrah, which can mean “word” or “saying,” seemed to carry the sense of “promise,” especially if the words came from God.

 

 

But what promise does the psalmist have in mind? It is clear that the writer was familiar with the book of Deuteronomy, which taught that God and Israel lived in a covenantal relationship. As long as the people were faithful, God promised blessings, but if they turned after other gods (including self), God would punish them. Deuteronomy 28 is a prime example of the teaching: the first 14 verses promise prosperity to those who obey the commandments, while the vv. 15-58 take three times the space in threatening punishment to those who disobey.

 

 

Thus, it is likely that the psalmist believed God would recognize his desire to follow God’s teachings by granting security, prosperity, and long life, and he asked God to confirm the covenant promise.

 

 

Here we should point out that the covenant in question was taught as binding upon the ancient Israelites, but it is not the covenant under which Christians live. Even for the Hebrews, it did not always play out as expected: the books of Job and Ecclesiastes were both written in large part to deal with the question of why the righteous often suffered while the wicked prospered.

 

 

God has not promised that health and wealth will follow faithful Christians wherever they go. Indeed, the New Testament contains many passages encouraging believers to be strong in the face of suffering.

 

 

That does not mean, however, that there are no promises. Through Christ we have the promise of the Spirit’s presence with us through all the trials as well as joys of life. Through Christ we have a mission to love others in a way that brings true purpose to life. And, through Christ we have the hope of being in God’s presence even beyond the grave.

 

 

Through Christ we also have the promise of forgiveness for our shortcomings. The psalmist knew something of this, too. “Turn away the disgrace that I dread” could be a roundabout way of asking for forgiveness (v. 39). The word translated “turn away” could more literally be read as “cause to pass by.” The psalmist hoped for God to bless his obedience and forgive or pass over the dreaded reality of his failures.

 

 

Verse 40 closes the section with a declaration of the psalmist’s deep desire to be so devoted to God’s way that he could experience the fullness of God’s life: “See, I have longed for your precepts; in your righteousness give me life.” [DD]

 

 

The psalmist knows that God is the author of life, and he wants to know life to the fullest. That is the kind of life the prophet Micah described much more succinctly: one that finds its meaning in the rich joy of faithfully pursuing justice, displaying kindness, and walking humbly with God. That, Micah said, is what God wants from us (Mic. 6:8).

 

 

What kind of life do we want?