Chapter 10. Steeled For Pilgrimage (Psalm 129)

In the earliest years of my walk with Christ, God placed me in a church with a rugged man for a pastor. He and his wife suffered much physical affliction but also chose pain for the mission of Christ. They were some of the toughest people I'd ever seen. It was apparent that their Christianity took strength, and that their Christianity made them strong.

The lesson this pastor and his wife taught me was this: through weakness, we are made strong. The Christian life is, like the psalms we are studying, a pilgrim life. Pilgrimage required endurance, perseverance, patience, and long-suffering -- attributes I found in the life of my pastor.

Pilgrimage requires strength, but it also gives strength, for God meets us on the journey. My will and focus are involved, but God is more invested than I am. He grants grace for the task at hand, the life of pilgrimage.

Yes, the pilgrim life requires strength, but it also gives strength, and all who have earnestly set out in the disciple life have discovered the great resources hidden within. God meets them on their quest. The song before us makes such a declaration. It sings honestly of the pain involved in the pilgrim life, but also of the grace of God in the midst of the struggle, and it will end with a declaration that no other life is worth living. Here, in this song, a transaction occurs. God interacts with our bodies and makes us strong for the fight.

Honesty: It Will Be Painful

"Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth"— let Israel now say— "Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth, yet they have not prevailed against me. The plowers plowed upon my back; they made long their furrows." (Psalm 129:1-3)

In the first portion of the song, the community was called upon to sing together. The psalmist began, ** "Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth"** (1). But then he quickly invites everyone to join him in the song when he says, ** "Let Israel now say, 'Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth"** (1-2). Let Israel now say. Everyone is invited to sing. This song was not a solo or a sob-fest, but a community-wide testimony regarding God's grace and might.

And the confession of their song was that they'd been afflicted. Somehow, someway, they'd suffered. There are three indications as to the type of pain they'd endured. First, they'd experienced more than mere trials, but attacks from an enemy. They sang, * "They afflicted me, "* meaning a foe had attacked them. Second, the affliction was not of the easy variety. They sang, * "Greatly have they afflicted me, "* meaning their suffering was of significant magnitude and caliber. Third, the attacks had come from the very beginning of their pilgrimage. They sang, * "They have afflicted me from my youth, "* meaning their earliest memories were filled with persecutions and attacks.

The psalmist went on to describe the persecution with a striking image: The plowers plowed upon my back; they made long their furrows (3). The picture is of their backs as a field the plowers dug their furrows into. Their persecutors dug deep and kept on digging. Their whole back was marred, evidence of the totality of the suffering they'd endured.

This imagery is fitting, for Jesus' back was given over to the Romans before enduring the cross. He was scourged before His crucifixion, and that scourging would have brought Christ great suffering. By His stripes, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). And He gave his back to those who struck Him (Isaiah 50:6). Jesus suffered immensely. His literal back broken open for His people, through the scourging He endured.

But Christ's suffering was, in a way, the culmination of generations of persecution aimed at God's people. Satan had always tried to kill and persecute the line of Christ. Cain killed Abel. Pharaoh oppressed Israel. David's line was relentlessly attacked. A divine perspective of all this comes in the book of Revelation. There, a terrible dragon, representative of Satan, casts down a third of the stars of heaven to the earth. A woman, representative of Israel, was about to give birth to a son, the Christ, "and the dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth, so that when she bore her child he might devour it" (Revelation 12:4).

And Satan still tries to kill the line of Christ. Through persecution, temptation, compromise, and error, he works tirelessly to destroy God's holy people. His will is to crush us. And our psalmists sang of this never-ending battle, a struggle for their lives.

Their honesty ought to inspire us today. They were will to admit the pain of the past, which helped them prepare for the pain of the future. If their past pilgrim life was littered with the attacks of the enemy, why would their future be any different? And, for us, if Christ was attacked and suffered, why would we expect a pain-free existence? With honesty, we must confess, the disciple-life of Christ will hurt.

A few years ago, a friend and I regularly summited a local hill. As trail runners, we took particular joy in climbing to the top of various peaks in our area. Each week, at the same time and place, we would gather, challenging our bodies and minds to keep on going until the run was finished. One year, extreme weather conditions hit us. One day in the middle of winter, the typical cold weather gave way to brutal rain and a windstorm. Then, one day in the dead of summer, our typical mild climate gave way to 100-degree heat. But, because we had established our time and place for running each week, we ended up enduring both extremes. But on both those days, we knew it would be tough running. We were honest with each other and ourselves: today is going to be hard!

In our psalm, this acknowledgment of difficulty is a celebration. A collection of pilgrims sing, You know what? This pilgrimage thing. This commitment that we've made the leave our homes three times each year and a place God at the center of our lives, to cease working and making money, so that we are free to go worship the Lord, this time that we've climbed up this hill to go to Jerusalem, some of us traveling hundreds of miles to do so, you know what, there's affliction. There are nations that would like to crush us. There are evil people that are taking advantage of us. But that's just the way it is. That's the pilgrim life. It's hard.

This level of honesty is healthy in the body of Christ. To commit to Jesus in this generation will require pain. It's going to be difficult. We do nearly everything differently than our society. Money. Sex. Singleness. Marriage. Politics. Family. Priorities. Entertainment. We are different people, and that difference creates a measure of pain. And it requires commitment and sacrifice.

Introspection: But the Pain Has Not Prevailed

"Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth, yet they have not prevailed against me.” (Psalm 129:2)

The song is not one of easy believism. To them, belief led to pain. But in the midst of all of their confession, there was introspection. Notice how, after twice highlighting their past affliction, they then said they enemy had not prevailed against them. As they sang about their difficulties, as they recounted the ardor of the journey, they confessed that the enemy hadn't destroyed them. Their foes had not prevailed.

Before personalizing their song into our experiences, we should think about the ways God preserved Israel from their enemies throughout history.

God has revealed himself to humanity in a few distinct ways. He's shown humankind who is through general revelation, or nature, or teleological study (Romans 1:18-23). He's revealed Himself to us in the entirety of His word, Holy Scripture. And He had most perfectly revealed Himself to us in the life of His Son (Hebrews 1:1-3). But another way God has revealed Himself to all humanity is through His continued faithfulness to the people of Israel. For a few thousand years, this nation who came from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has been the target of so many other nations. Yet still, Israel exists. The Jews live on. After all of these millennia, they are still a distinct people group.

When Israel began worshipping Yahweh, all the nations around them worshipped regional gods who were terrible and separate from their people. But Israel began worshipping a God over all flesh, who wanted to come and live amongst them. God's desire to be with His people was a brand new concept, something that God had revealed to Israel as a people.

So when our song recounts how the enemy did not prevail against them, it's been true now for thousands of years. Egypt could not control them. Assyria could not wipe them out. Babylon could not hold them captive forever. The Medo-Persians had to send them back to their land. Greece and Rome could not extinguish them. And, even today, after years of persecution and hatred, Jews still live and thrive on earth. God has been faithful. The enemy has not prevailed.

And as you consider God's faithfulness to them throughout the millennia, you should also begin thinking of His faithfulness to you over the years. As you've walked the pilgrim life, as you've walked with the Lord, you know the affliction,  the pain, did not prevail against you. You are likely able to look back at some dark times in your life see the faithfulness of God.

As Paul said: "We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." (2 Corinthians 4:7–10, NLT)

We pass through affliction, but we're not crushed. We become perplexed, but we're not in despair. We go through persecution, but we're not forsaken in the middle of it. We are struck down at times, but we're not destroyed. As believers, and sometimes because we're believers, we will suffer and die, to the point that it is like the death of Jesus, but the life of Jesus will be made manifest in our bodies.

Early on in the pages of the Old Testament, righteous Abel offered a sacrifice to God, and God accepted it. His brother Cain offered a sacrifice to God, and God despised and rejected it. Cain did not ask, why was Abel's sacrifice received while mine was not? What can I correct about my heart and my sacrifice? Instead, he rose up in pride and, through jealousy, killed Abel.

It looks like Abel lost. It looks like Abel could not have sung, the affliction has not overtaken me. He died. But God brought Abel into His presence. To God, Abel overcame. He was faithful to the point of death.

Some flowers are seasonal. In the wrong conditions, they wither. But other flowers and plants are perennial; they last all year long through any condition. The Christian life, because of God's faithfulness and protection, is one of God's perennial grace. God faithfully stands with us. My own mind can easily recall hundreds of stories of God's grace. I've watched churches stand. Marriages endure. Lives saved. All because God, in His goodness and grace, has kept the enemy from prevailing. Instead, God prevailed.

Rejoicing: Because God Delivers

“The LORD is righteous; he has cut the cords of the wicked.” (Psalm 129:4)

But why has affliction not overtaken us in the pilgrim life? How have we made it? They sang: The LORD is righteous; he has cut the cords of the wicked.

Why hasn't our affliction prevailed? Because the Lord has stood with us. He's been faithful to us. God said, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you" (Isaiah 43:2). It is a promise to Israel, one we can claim for ourselves today. Through the waters and fires of life, God said he would stand with us. We will not drown, nor will we be consumed.

So our victory has come from the Lord, but how did he gain it for us? The song continues: He has cut the cords of the wicked. Here, the tragedy of the song turns into comedy. In the first portion of the song, the picture was of plowers plowing into the backs of God's people. Lines were drawn. Furrows were dug. And God's people experienced real pain. But here, the song shifts. The Lord cut the cords of the wicked.

In other words, the picture of the plowers and the field is continued. But God destroyed their cables. It's as if their enemies were there with their oxen, yokes, cables, and plow. All the machinery was there, but God came along and cut their cords. Their plow is just sitting there, not moving, not effective, but they keep on going for a walk. Their oxen are moving, and the reigns are in their hands, but they aren't plowing anything. There is no furrow. Their persecution is not effective because God cut their cords. Unfortunately, too many people give up before this moment. Trial or affliction gets the best of them. They do not endure. But this is a beautiful moment, worth waiting for.

In the Old Testament, early on in Abraham's faith journey, God told Abraham that through him and his seed, all the nations of the earth would be blessed (Genesis 12:1-3). Abraham internalized God's promise, believing one day he'd have a son. Later, God confirmed the son would come through Abraham's wife Sarah. Ultimately, it was a prophecy about Jesus Christ, that Jesus would come from Abraham's line and be a blessing to Jew and Gentile alike.

As time passed in Abraham's life, he and Sarah grew older. Sarah began to feel that she was past the age of childbearing. In that era, it was considered socially acceptable to produce children, even heirs, through sexual relations with household servants. So Sarah suggested to Abraham that they should have a child through Hagar, their maidservant. Abraham, going along with the plot, impregnated Hagar, thinking he had fulfilled God's plan and promise. A son was born!

But when Ishmael was an early teenager, God spoke to him again. He to Abraham Ishmael was not the one. He and Sarah would still have a son of their own. When Abraham heard that, he began to laugh (Genesis 17:17). And when Sarah heard it, she also laughed (Genesis 18:3). Abraham was 100 years old, and Sarah was 90 years old. They thought it would never happen. But a year later, they had a baby boy named whom they named him Isaac, which means laughter, because Sarah said, God has made me laugh (Genesis 21:6).

Too often, we laugh with the first kind of laughter. We laugh the laughter of unbelief. We laugh the laughter which says, God could never help me through this. God could never heal this catastrophe. God could never enable me to overcome this particular sin.

And perhaps you are thinking of various addictions in your own life, or tendencies within your own heart, or failures in your own past that you've come up against it. You say to yourself, Man, I'm going to reap what I've sown for the rest of my life. I can never get out of this thing. And it's going to color my life to the day that I die. You are laughing the laughter of unbelief.

But my whole in prayer is that you will persist in the pilgrim life until you discover the laughter of God's fulfillment. I hope you endure all the way to when God cuts the cords of the wicked, where you kick back and say, Man, I don't know how God did that. I don't know when God did that. But God did that. God was faithful. God saw me through. He has cut the cables of my enemies!

Wish: For the Deeper Life

“May all who hate Zion be put to shame and turned backward! Let them be like the grass on the housetops, which withers before it grows up, with which the reaper does not fill his hand nor the binder of sheaves his arms, nor do those who pass by say, "The blessing of the LORD be upon you! We bless you in the name of the LORD!" (Psalm 129:5-8)

The song ends with a wish from the pilgrims. What they want is judgment for their enemies, their persecutors. At first glance, it sounds like a harsh, imprecatory prayer. We might think it unloving. He prays for his enemy to be put to shame and turned backward. He wants them to be like grass which withers on the housetops. He wants them to be like an empty harvest. He prays no one will pronounce the blessing of the Lord upon them. As I said, it almost strikes us as unloving. What is happening in this last movement of the song?

In ancient Israel, roofs were often made of earth or clay. Sometimes, when the conditions were right, some seeds, grass, or weeds would begin to grow on the roof. And when the sun came out, it would wither that growth. The hot, midday heat would prevent their earthen roofs from growing anything of real substance. And the pilgrims sing, We want our persecutors to be like the growth on our roofs. No one will rejoice over roof-growth in the same way they rejoice over a real crop. No one is going to climb to their rooftop to reap a harvest. It's nothing growth that counts for nothing. No one praises God for weeds growing on the roof.

This portion of the song is a confession of something beautiful. At first glance, it sounds harsh, but it's actually very kind. If someone lives that kind of life, one in rebellion against God, they need to come to the end of themselves. They need to realize how empty that kind of life is; without this sense, one will not turn to Christ.

This is the prayer of the pilgrim: Give my persecutors, people without God, an empty life. I know it's a shallow life. I know it's not deep. I know it's not ultimately fruitful. I know it's momentary. Like grass that grows on the roof, that brand of life cannot last. It's just for a season.

This attitude is very important if we're going to persist in pilgrimage. If we are infatuated with the life of this world, and can't see through it to see that there's a shallowness that's attached to it, and a temporary nature attached to it, when the pilgrim life becomes difficult, we will give up. We should instead say to ourselves, I do not want the shallow life, but the deep life Christ offers to me.  If we can say that perpetually within our hearts, then we will be able to endure in the pilgrim life.

In Colossians, Paul said there is an ancient mystery that has been around since the beginning of time but is now revealed in Christ.

"The mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints. To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory." (Colossians 1:26–27)

This is what the church preaches, the ancient mystery of Jesus: Christ in us, the hope of glory. It's the beautiful, deep mystery that God lives within his people, that he interacts with us, that he communes with and fellowships with us. And that deep mystery is what the pilgrim sings.

Many have discovered this beautiful life of wonder. Some of them, when they first started walking with the Lord, braced themselves for what they thought would be a dull life. Thinking the life of sin was the life of exhilaration, they gave it all up to follow Jesus. But they then discovered previously unknown elements of the Christian life. They found a depth of love.  They discovered God's indwelling presence. They learned of God's mission and purpose for their lives. And they learned of the loving community of the church, the body of Christ. Soon, they realized their old life was a bore, while this new life in Jesus brought them adventure, grace, and peace!

In C.S. Lewis' Chronicles Of Narnia, a little boy named Edmund, one of four siblings, ventured into a magical land called Narnia. It is perpetually winter there because a witch put a spell on the whole land. She called herself the queen of Narnia. Since Edmund is there for the first time, he is lost when she comes by on her sled. She is intrigued by him because there was a Narnian prophecy that four human children would someday defeat her and renew the land. Seeing this human boy, she pulled out a magical potion. Letting a little drip out onto the snow, it magically grew into Turkish Delight, a treat for young Edmund. And he ate it. It was the best he'd ever had. His desire for more began to drive him mad. In his maddened state, C.S. Lewis wrote:

Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves. -- C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

This is a perfect picture of the way of this world, the non-pilgrim life. You can never get enough. You can never be satisfied. For a moment, the flavor of that life is pleasurable (Hebrews 11:25). But it fades so quickly, driving us mad. In Christ, though, there is satisfaction that is so real and rich and good. Fortunately, our pilgrim has come to that understanding, and so also must we.