But surely, God is my helper;
the LORD is the upholder of my life. (Ps. 54:4)

Troubles. We all have them. Some of our troubles are minor and easily dealt with: if one pair of socks has a hole in the toe, we can choose another pair. Other troubles require help: if the internet is down, we may need to contact customer service and hope we get a real person rather than a chatbot. If we’re sick, it’s time to see the doctor. 

Most of our trials can be dealt with on our own or with human assistance we know how to obtain, but there are other troubles that can put the “trib” in tribulation. Sometimes we find ourselves in a spot where there’s no one to help us but God.

That’s the situation in today’s second optional reading from the Psalms. It parallels Jeremiah’s plaintive lament in the lectionary’s companion reading from Jer. 11:18-23, and it offers yet another reminder that those who trust in God are never truly alone. 

A sticky situation

A lengthy superscription to the psalm takes up two verses in the Hebrew version, first instructing the worship leader in the use of stringed instruments and then identifying it with the David tradition. The psalm itself offers no hint of a particular time and place, but a later editor apparently took a cue from v. 3, “the ruthless seek my life,” and thought the psalm would have been appropriate for David to pray at a time when “Saul had come out to seek his life” (1 Sam. 23:15) during a period when David had fled to the southern part of Judah. [DD]

Whether written by David or not, the psalm is an individual prayer of lament from someone who believed his or her life was threatened, and that only God could help. Some have posited that the psalm may have been used in the postexilic period as a community lament expressed in individual terms. 

An urgent request (vv. 1-3)

In any case, one thing is clear: the poet believed someone was out to kill him, and that only God could help. 

Fans of the initial Star Wars movie, A New Hope, might recall how Princess Leia found herself in desperate straits, locked into a cell on Darth Vader’s battleship. She sought to send a coded message to an aging jedi: “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” She recorded the message on a droid called R2D2, which then commandeered an escape pod to a desert planet, where it wandered the dunes before being stolen by scavenging Jawas, bought by a rustic farmer, and cleaned by a boy named Luke, who secretly transported the droid to a hidden cave. An attack by Tusken raiders almost derailed the mission, but ultimately Obi-Wan got the message. At any number of steps, the process could have gone awry, and all hope would have been lost. 

The psalmist believed access to God could be both direct and certain, for he was confident that God was always both present and listening. Appeals to God need not go through complex channels, or even through a singular priest: those who trust in God may ask for an audience at any time. 

Psalm 54 is built on a theology of the Name, a belief that calling on God’s name invokes God’s presence and power. “Save me, O God, by your name,” he prayed, “and vindicate me by your might” (v. 1). Curiously, the psalm appears in the Elohistic Psalter (Psalms 42-83), in which the divinely revealed name of Yahweh rarely appears. [DD]

This may suggest a later date for the psalm, as it became conventional in rabbinic Judaism to avoid pronouncing the divine name aloud, preferring circumlocutions such as “the Name” (ha-shem) or “the Holy One, blessed be he.” 

An appeal to God’s name serves as an inclusio in the psalm, appearing in both v. 1 and v. 6, where “your name” is accompanied by “O Yahweh,” despite the preponderance of “God” (’elohîm) in vv. 1, 2, 3, and 4. 

The poet dares to speak in the imperative mood, and surprisingly demands an answer before asking for a hearing. The first verse calls for salvation and vindication. Not until v. 2 does the psalmist press for an audience: “Hear my prayer, O God; give ear to the words of my mouth.”

Few of us, other than soldiers or law enforcement officers on the front lines, have felt in imminent danger of being killed by an enemy. In these days of lax gun control and increasing numbers of mass shootings, however, it may often be in the back of our minds. 

Mass shootings, defined as an incident in which at least four people are killed or injured, not including the shooter, are largely an American phenomenon. In 2023, according to the Gun Violence Archive, the U.S. endured 656 mass shootings. Overall gun violence resulted in nearly 19,000 deaths and more than 36,000 injuries. Every year in the 2020s has seen more than 600 mass shootings.

Many parents fear for their children’s safety at school, and the children fear, too. Shootings happen in malls, on job sites, and in public streets or parks. We can no longer assume that public venues and workplaces will be free from violence. 

We have reason to join the psalmist in praying for salvation from those whose heartless actions are not curbed by respect for God. After calling for deliverance and divine attention, the poet moved naturally to a generalized description of his situation: “For the insolent have risen against me, the ruthless seek my life; they do not set God before them” (v. 3). [DD]

A confident prayer (vv. 4-5)

The urgency of v. 1 shifts to an expression of trust in v. 4: “But surely, God is my helper; the Lord (’adonāy) is the upholder of my life.” Was the psalmist truly so confident that God would save, or was he magnifying the divine reputation as a pressure point for God to respond? 

In either case, the expression of assurance puts the ball in God’s court. “He will repay my enemies for their evil,” he claimed, before switching back to prayer mode in the second person: “In your faithfulness, put an end to them” (v. 5). 

If God did not respond with salvation, it would appear that God was not as faithful as the poet claimed. Whether this was designed to cajole God into action, or whether it was a straightforward statement of faith remains a mystery within the psalmist’s heart. A modern reader might wish the psalmist had considered other options, perhaps trusting himself to God’s care whatever the outcome, as we encourage people to do when facing difficult times or a mortal disease, but the poet perceived only one solution. He believed the only way for him to survive was for God to dispatch those who had risen against him, and he expressed confidence that God would do just that.

A promise of praise (vv. 6-7)

Psalms of lament often include an abrupt shift to praise, so we are not surprised to find a promise of praise and worship in the final two verses. 

Every popular English translation presents the final two verses as a promise of thanksgiving for deliverance that is either thought to be certain, or to have already taken place, in which case one might think the thanksgiving section could have been added after the enemies were eliminated. 

“With a freewill offering I will sacrifice to you; I will give thanks to your name, O LORD, for it is good” (NRSV, v. 6). Here the promise of praise to God’s good name echoes the plea for deliverance by God’s name in v. 1. 

“For he has delivered me from every trouble,” the poet concluded, “and my eye has looked in triumph on my enemies” (v. 7). Most modern versions translate the salvific act as a fait accompli, though NET2 renders it as an expression of confidence: “Surely he rescues me from all trouble, and I triumph over my enemies” (NET2). The conjunction kî (for, because, surely, when) and the verb forms allow that translation. 

It is also possible, however, to read the psalm as a conditional vow in which the author asks God for deliverance from enemies (vv. 1-2) and promises to give a sacrificial offering accompanied by praise – if God delivers him (vv. 6-7). Such vows were common in Hebrew life, and there is no reason to assume they would not be present in the psalms.

In contemporary English, we think of vows as unconditional promises rather than conditional ones, so we would not use the word “vow,” but we are still prone to the same sort of persuasive prayer. How often have we asked God to deliver us from some tight spot, and promised some behavioral change in return? 

Human nature prompts us to want things our way, and we learn to manipulate others to make that happen, some more skillfully than others. It is not surprising, then, that we would sometimes pray in similar fashion, attempting to motivate divine action by appealing to God’s vanity or desire to be praised. 

As common as that kind of prayer might be, we would do well to recall Jesus’ instruction that our prayers should be in the context of seeking God’s will (Matt. 6:10) or in Jesus’ name, which implies that it be in accord with what Christ would want (John 14:13-14), or in the context of asking in Christ’s will (1 John 5:14).

We have no guarantee that God will always deliver us from harmful people or dread disease, but we can be sure that it is Christ’s desire that we be free from fear and saved in an ultimate and fuller sense.