Psalm 50:14 – Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High.

Psalms come in many shapes, sizes, and even temperatures. This one comes in hot. Psalm 50 sounds as if it came straight from one of the prophetic books, and we can safely assume that its author thought of himself as a prophet. Like Psalms 73-83, the text bears a superscription that associates it with Asaph, who David reportedly installed to lead the music program in the temple.

            Psalm 50 sounds more like preaching than singing, however. It is a foot-stomping, toe-bashing, finger-pointing sermon that could have set the congregation’s ears ringing.

            As a pastor, I learned that while most congregants squirmed at the thought of such sermons, there were always a few who found a pulpit-pounding, sin-condemning peroration to be cathartic and helpful in spurring personal repentance.

            Convicting or not, our study of Psalm 50 should lead us to ponder whether we might find ourselves as targets of the psalmist’s sharp tongue. The RCL reading comprises only vv. 7-15, but if we are to grasp the writer’s meaning, we should consider the entire psalm.

When God is scary

(vv. 1-6)

The psalm begins with a theophany. It is not the kind of majestic and inspiring appearance that we find in Psalm 104, but a frightening show of power and storm. God is identified as “The mighty one, God the LORD,” an unfortunate translation that masks the psalmist’s sequence of three divine names: “’El, ’Elohim, Yahweh,” perhaps a reflection of Josh. 22:22, which uses the same sequence twice.

’El is singular and could be used as a generic name for any god. ’Elohim is plural and can mean “gods,” but was used mainly as an alternate name for Israel’s god, Yahweh. Hebrew was written without punctuation, so another translation could be “God of gods, Yahweh.” [Another triplet]

            The multiplied title contributes to the powerful image of God as Lord of all the earth, who “speaks and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting.” The reference to God’s shining “out of Zion” speaks to the belief that God’s earthly presence was centered in the Jerusalem temple, “the perfection of beauty” (vv. 1-2).

God’s rule is not only universal, but powerful. God does not come in silence or speak in even tones, but “before him is a devouring fire, and a mighty tempest all around him” (v. 3).

            The fearsome imagery of God approaching in a storm leads to a courtroom scene similar to the prophetic motif of a covenant lawsuit such as those found in Isa. 1:18–20; 3:13–15; 41:1ff, 21ff; 43:9ff; Jer. 2:4–9; Hos. 2:4ff; and Mic. 6:1ff. Psalm 82 has a similar form.

Here, God “calls to the heavens above and to the earth, that he may judge his people” (v. 4). And who are the defendants in this case? That would be the entire people of Israel, who had entered into a covenant with God at Mount Sinai: “Gather to me my faithful ones, who made a covenant with me by sacrifice” (v. 5). [DD]

            The inaugural covenant ceremony had been accompanied by elaborate sacrifices and dashing of blood on the altar, with Moses also sprinkling blood on the people and saying, “See the blood of the covenant that the LORD has made with you in accordance with all these words” (Exod. 24:3-8).

            Having set the earth as a courtroom with witnesses and defendants in place, the psalmist portrays God presiding as judge over the case (v. 6). In practice, God also acts as the prosecuting attorney and chief witness, as we see in the following section.

When sacrifices are meaningless

(vv. 7-13, 16-22)

The poet/prophet then speaks for God, who addresses Israel as “my people” and testifies: “I am God, your God. Not for your sacrifices do I rebuke you; your burnt offerings are continually before me” (v. 7).

            Sacrifices alone were not the issue. God had a complaint, but it wasn’t a lack of animals being slaughtered at the temple. The problem was two-fold. First, the people may have had a misplaced concept of sacrifices as something God needed, perhaps accompanied by an idea that sending God smoke from burning meat was the extent of Israel’s responsibility.

            God rejected this idea: “I will not accept a bull from your house, or goats from your folds. For every wild animal of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know all the birds of the air, and all that moves in the field is mine” (vv. 9-11).

            Babylonians and Assyrians imagined that their gods depended on them for sustenance as well as the cleaning and maintenance of their images. The Gilgamesh epic’s version of the flood story, for example, depicts the gods as “swarming like flies” over sacrifices offered by Utnapishtim when he gained dry ground, because they hadn’t been fed during the flood. [DD]

            The Israelites imagined that God expected sacrifices and appreciated the pleasing aroma, but God did not need them for sustenance. Rather, “If I were hungry, I would not tell you,” God said, “for the world and all that is in it is mine. Do I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?” (vv. 12-13).

            More important than the people’s misunderstanding, however, was their misbehavior. Verses 16-22 charge the people with specific sins that render their sacrifices hypocritical. “But to the wicked God says: ‘What right have you to recite my statutes, or take my covenant on your lips?’” (v. 16). Ritual worship is meaningless when offered as a payoff rather than as admiration and thanksgiving.

            God charged the people with despising discipline and ignoring the law, saying “you cast my words behind you” (v. 17). They consorted with thieves and adulterers, spoke deceitfully, and slandered their own relatives (vv. 18-20).

            Perhaps the people had thought they were getting away with their misbehavior, or that God really was not so different from themselves, but God put that notion to rest: “These things you have done and I have been silent; you thought that I was one just like yourself. But now I rebuke you, and lay the charge before you” (v. 21).

            Those who had abandoned God and followed their own desires could not do so without consequences: “Mark this, then, you who forget God, or I will tear you apart, and there will be no one to deliver” (v. 22).

            “You who forget God.” Those are chilling words. The verb is a participle: a literal translation would be “God-forgetters.” The people might forget their covenant God, but God would not forget them – though they might wish otherwise.

            But there was still an option to change their behavior, for the little word “lest” intervenes: “Consider this, you God-forgetters, lest I tear you apart …” The conjunction pen can mean “lest,” “otherwise,” or “else.”

            How could Israel change their ways and avoid the ugly fate of God-forgetters?

What God wants

(vv. 14-15, 23)

What God wanted was for people to worship with faithful hearts, and to understand that the sacrifice God desires most is not a bloody animal, but sincere thanksgiving and praise. Such persons could expect God to hear the prayers they offered.

            “Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High. Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (vv. 14-15). This is one of several psalms that extol heartfelt thanksgiving and praise as superior to sacrifice.

            “Pay your vows” is not code for “keep the covenant,” but refers to specific promises people may have made in conjunction with making special requests from God. It speaks of people who live in a trusting relationship with God and feel confident in offering prayers of both praise and petition.

            The closing verse of the psalm makes it clear that more is involved. Worshipers should not only understand God’s attitude toward sacrifice, but also pay attention to God’s teachings and treat one another rightly if they are to come with clean hearts that are acceptable to God. Ethical behavior is more important than ritual practice.

            “Those who bring thanksgiving as their sacrifice honor me; to those who go the right way

I will show the salvation of God” (v. 23). Note the connection between going “the right way” and seeing “the salvation of God.”

Christian believers do not live under the same covenant described in this psalm. We do not bring animals for sacrifice when we come to worship, but those who follow Jesus are also challenged to follow the right way.

            Jesus spoke of choosing a narrow way rather than following the wide and easy road that leads to destruction (Matt. 7:13). For Christians, to walk in the right way is to follow Jesus. That begins with denying our selfish desires (Matt. 16:24) and obeying his command to love others as he loved us (John 13:34-35).

That is the sacrifice Jesus taught – one that might involve a sacrifice or time or money or even pride, but all in the name of love. It’s easy for modern Christians, like the Israelites, to fall into the trap of ritual behavior we think is “just enough” to get by and still be considered in good standing with God or the church.

Psalm 50 challenges us to consider whether we are God-forgetting people paying lip service, or true followers who “go the right way.”