A PSALM. A song. For the dedication of the temple. Of David.
1I will exalt you, O LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
2O LORD my God, I called to you for help
and you healed me.
3O LORD, you brought me up from the grave;
you spared me from going down into the pit.
4Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;
praise his holy name.
5For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
6When I felt secure, I said,
“I will never be shaken.”
7O LORD, when you favored me,
you made my mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.
8To you, O LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:
9“What gain is there in my destruction,
in my going down into the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
10Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me;
O LORD, be my help.”
11You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.
PSALM 30 IS a fitting summation of the group of psalms extending from Psalm 23 through 29. Like the majority of those psalms, this one is a lament or plea for deliverance.1 Its heading links the psalm to the temple—one of the central themes in this group.2 In addition, the psalm has numerous thematic and verbal resonances with the preceding psalms—especially Psalm 27—that will be mentioned below.
The psalm falls into three unequal portions: an introductory declaration of intent to praise Yahweh with a general statement of the reason for praise (30:1–3); a widening call to the reader/listener to join the psalmist’s praise (30:4–5); and an extended narrative of the psalmist’s changing circumstance (30:6–12), which encompasses a collapse into dismay (30:6–7), a plea for deliverance (30:8–10), and the divine response remembered with joy (30:11–12).
The Heading (30:0)
FOR THE MOST part the heading includes familiar terms: “psalm” (mizmor), “song” (šir), “of David.”3 The heading does, however, include a unique phrase describing the purpose for which the psalm was supposed to have been composed: “For the dedication of the house [NIV temple].”
The word for “house” (bayit) in this context is ambiguous and is sometimes taken to refer to the “royal palace.”4 Yet in addition to this usage, the noun ḥanukkah (“dedication”) is most frequently used to refer to the dedication of the temple altar (Num. 7:10, 11, 84, 88; 2 Chron. 7:9), only once the “wall of Jerusalem” (Neh. 12:27). The cognate verb ḥnk (“dedicate”) twice mentions the dedication of a common soldier’s house (Deut. 20:5), once encourages dedicating a child at the start of life (Prov. 22:6), and twice refers specifically to dedicating the “house of the LORD/God” (1 Kings 8:63; 2 Chron. 7:5). The use of habbayit (“the house”) and the position of Psalm 30 at the end of the collection of Psalms 23–30 with their emphasis on the house of Yahweh, makes it most likely that the Jerusalem temple is intended here.
Declaration of Praise (30:1–3)
THE PSALMIST BEGINS with a declaration of intent to praise Yahweh and gives his reason behind this praise. The language used is that of exaltation (“I will exalt you, O LORD”). Just as Yahweh “exalted” the psalmist upon a secure rock (27:5) so that the psalmist’s head is “exalted” above his surrounding enemies (27:6), so now the psalmist seeks to “exalt” Yahweh by making known his saving acts. To exalt Yahweh in worship is a common theme in Hebrew poetry and is usually associated with praise for his acts of deliverance. In the Song of the Sea (Ex. 15), Israel “exalts” Yahweh for their deliverance from the Egyptians (cf. 15:2). In Isaiah 25:1, Israel’s exaltation of Yahweh introduces a list of the ways Yahweh has faithfully “done marvelous things . . . planned long ago.”5 Exalting Yahweh was accomplished through praise (Ex. 15:1 and Isa. 25:1 both link exaltation and praise), especially of the divine name (Pss. 34:3; 145:1).
You lifted me out of the depths. The psalmist cites his experience of deliverance for which he praises Yahweh. Yahweh has “lifted” (from dlh) the psalmist “out of the depths.” The counterbalance provided through the use of the parallel verbs “exalt” (rwm) and “lift” (dlh) become more clear as one considers them from the point of view of the speaker. “Exalt” involves motion up and away from the speaker—as if one were pushing a small child up on to a high rock to safety in rising waters (cf. 27:5). By contrast, “lift” describes motion up from below and toward the speaker. The verb dlh can describe “drawing water” from a well (Ex. 2:16, 19; Prov. 20:5)—as one would pull a person in danger of drowning out of the raging water with the aid of a rope. It is interesting to note in this regard that the phrase reported in the NIV as “out of the depths” is supplied interpretively, since there are no corresponding words in the Hebrew text.
Did not let my enemies gloat. No clear picture is gained of the psalmist’s opponents in this psalm. This single reference would classify them as the type of people who hang around those in difficulty or suffering in order to “rejoice” over their downfall. In this case, “to gloat” translates the Hebrew phrase śimmaḥ li (“allow to rejoice concerning me”). Similar concern expressed with this phrase appears in 35:19, 24, 26; 38:16.6
You healed me. The psalmist’s suffering may have been occasioned by a desperate illness. Certainly there is a sense of having been delivered from death’s door. The psalmist “called . . . for help” and was answered with divine healing. Yahweh “brought [the psalmist] up” from Sheol, the abode of the dead, and caused him to live from among those “going down into the pit.”7 The use of the participle “those going down” in this latter phrase emphasizes the immediacy of death. The psalmist appears almost to have been plucked out of the line of those currently waiting to enter Sheol.
Call to Join in Praise (30:4–5)
THE PSALMIST NOW calls on the listening/reading “saints”8 to join in the praise of Yahweh—another indication that the setting of the psalmist’s recitation is likely temple worship. The saints are called to “sing” (more accurately, “play music”)9 and “praise” (more accurately, “give thanks to”) Yahweh’s “remembrance, reminder” (zeker; often God’s “name” is what reminds one of another, as the NIV suggests). These two acts of worship return at the conclusion in 30:12.
His anger lasts only a moment. The psalmist’s call to praise flows from the awareness that Yahweh’s final word is never lament and suffering but deliverance for his faithful ones. The reference to the limits to divine anger are intended as occasion for hope, especially for those who endure faithfully even in the face of suffering. The use of the image of divine anger in this context implies that the psalmist may be relating the suffering he has experienced to divine action, possibly as the result of his sin.10 The only failing attributed to the psalmist in this psalm is the smug sense of false security mentioned in 30:6–7. The psalmist assures the enduring faithful (the “saints”) that divine displeasure is not an eternal fixture of life, but the tears of suffering will ultimately resolve into morning shouts of joy. Tears are “permitted to stay the night”—like a particularly unwelcome guest—but must be on their way by morning.
The Psalmist’s Narrative (30:6–12)
IN THE REST of the psalm, the psalmist gives an account of the changing mental and emotional processes that accompanied his downfall and deliverance. It is not often that we find such a clear and linear description of the circumstances behind lament and thanksgiving.
Collapse into dismay. The psalmist begins with an almost naive sense of safety and security: “When I felt secure . . .” (30:6). The phrase “I will never be shaken” (bal ʾemmoṭ) directly relates to other passages in the psalms that make use of this idiomatic expression. When used of humans, this phrase is often connected with a sense of dependence on and trust in Yahweh (15:5; 21:7; 55:22). Confidence comes as a result of Yahweh’s power and his will to save. However, the phrase can also express a false sense of security, based on a rejection of Yahweh and a will to self-power that is doomed to failure (10:2–6). The key distinctive between these two uses of the idiom is the attitude of the human described: whether one of fear of Yahweh, acknowledging absolute dependence on him, or rejection of Yahweh, seeking to exert self-control of one’s world. The former attitude leads to a firm and secure footing in life, while the latter will ultimately fall.
When you favored me. The tension between real and false security is played out in verse 7. Verse 5 might seem to imply that divine “favor” is a fixed certainty since it is said to last “a lifetime.” Yet the true key to the psalmist’s security is Yahweh himself. When Yahweh “favors” the psalmist, all is secure; but when Yahweh “hides his face,” the psalmist collapses in dismay. Following on the heels of the rather arrogant profession of confidence in 30:6, verse 7 drives home the conditional nature of security. Security is as much an attitude of dependence as it is a circumstance of protection. Trusting in Yahweh and relying on him come what may provide security that is ultimately independent of every circumstance.
You made my mountain stand firm. This phrase is difficult, as commentators note. Some scholars assume a comparative phrase and emend the first-person pronominal suffix to a masculine plural construct ending, with a resulting translation “more than mountains of power.” This would also necessitate understanding the psalmist as the object of the preceding verb “you made [me] stand.” Kraus emends this verb to a first-person singular form, “I was made to stand.” While precise translation may elude us, the sense of confident security remains clear, especially by way of contrast with the sense of dismay that follows immediately at the end of the verse.
You hid your face. To “hide the face” is an image for the withdrawal of divine presence and support that appears frequently both inside and outside the Psalter. God’s withdrawal is most commonly associated with his “anger” over human sin11 and leaves humans feeling rejected by God, isolated, and vulnerable to attack by their enemies. The realization of divine absence expressed in 30:7 leaves the psalmist feeling “dismayed,” although the Niphal of the verb bhl usually means something stronger—more like “terrified, out of one’s senses.”12 The sense of abandonment experienced here relates to the similar feeling in 27:9, where the psalmist pleads, “Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger.”
Plea for deliverance. The awareness of vulnerability leads the psalmist to seek deliverance and divine favor. In a move reminiscent of 6:5 and 88:11, the psalmist questions whether there is any “gain”13 to God in the psalmist’s impending death, since all possibility of lifting praise to Yahweh is cut off by descent into Sheol.14 The NIV’s translation of the Hebrew bedami as “in my destruction” takes the phrase from a root dmh (“be destroyed”), rather than the alternate root dmh, meaning “be silent,”15 or from the noun dam, meaning “in my blood.” This obscures a possible wordplay in 30:12, where the psalmist refuses to be silent (yiddom)16 and instead makes music in thanks to Yahweh. The rhetorical questions at the end of 30:9—each assuming the answer “No!”—realize that the only “profit” that humans represent to God lies in their praise and acknowledgment of his faithfulness.
Hear, O LORD. In what appears to be an abbreviation of the more extended cry in 27:7,17 the psalmist seeks to gain Yahweh’s ear and favor. He desires Yahweh to appear as “helper” (ʿozer), a term related to that used in 27:9 (ʿezrati). The similar phraseology serves once again to link Psalm 30 with Psalm 27.
Divine response remembered with joy. Psalm 30 concludes with the psalmist’s joyful memory of deliverance realized. His rites of mourning have become instead a “circle dance” like the Hora, while God is depicted as replacing the psalmist’s mourning clothes with a festal garment.
That my heart may sing. In response to these changed circumstances, the psalmist is unable to remain silent (loʾ yiddom) but breaks forth in a song of thanksgiving. This passage is difficult because of the lack of clarity regarding the relationship of words in the first half of the verse. The first verb means “he/it will play music [to] you.” The subject is unclear and is most often supplied by emending the following noun kabod (“glory”) to kabedi (“my kidney/innermost part”), which the NIV specifies even further to “my heart.” According to the BHS note, however, the Syriac version reads both verbs in the first half of this verse as first-person singular forms: “I will make music/sing (to) you” and “I will not remain silent.”
This opens the intriguing possibility that the word kabod is not the subject of the preceding verb but the exclamation “Glory!” that is set to music in praise of Yahweh. In this case, the psalmist exclaims: “I will play/sing out to you ‘Glory!’ and I will not remain silent.” Such a public acclamation of Yahweh’s glory would link this verse back to 29:9, where those in the temple respond to the signs of Yahweh’s theophanic approach in the storm with a similar cry. At the end of Psalm 30, the psalmist concludes with a promise of eternal praise of Yahweh.
Bridging Contexts
COMING INTO THE PRESENCE OF A HOLY GOD. At first glance this seems a strange psalm to be titled “For the dedication of the temple.” There is little recognizable about the temple in this thanksgiving psalm. It is almost enough to make us say there must be some mistake here! Surely the heading has arrived at its present position through some obscure and erroneous process.
But let me offer two suggestions as to how Psalm 30 can be seen to address the approach to holy God who is present in his holy temple. (1) We can read this psalm in connection with Psalm 29. There we see the worshipers of God overwhelmed by the theophanic appearance of Yahweh in the thunderous display of the storm. As God becomes most present, as his holiness breaks powerfully into the human world with fearsome consequences (29:3–9), the unison response of the worshiping congregation is almost torn from their throats as they together cry “Glory!” (29:9). If the above interpretation of 30:12 is accurate, the author of Psalm 30 echoes this earlier cry with a parallel vow: “I will play/sing out to you, ‘Glory!’ and I will not be silent!” This linkage places Psalm 30 squarely into the context of temple worship, so that the psalm itself becomes part of the psalmist’s testimony in the congregation of the faithful—testimony that fulfills the vow to proclaim Yahweh’s glory.
(2) The second way to see Psalm 30 in a temple context is to examine again the psalmist’s exhortation in verse 5 of the “saints” of Yahweh, who are charged to “sing to the LORD . . . praise his holy name.” He is standing in the midst of the congregation of the faithful as they join in the worship of Yahweh. The temple is not far away but surrounds this gathered band of worshipers, who respond joyfully to the testimony of God’s faithfulness. Envisioning a temple context for this psalm allows us to understand the central tension—between the psalmist’s changing sense of confidence and dismay—in a new light.
The Jerusalem temple was a source of great confidence for the Davidic dynasty and the people they ruled. As the place where Yahweh chose to enthrone his name, where God came down to be especially present in the Most Holy Place, where God’s gracious forgiveness and mercy were delivered through the sacrificial system, and where people experienced communion with God through the sacrificial meal, the temple represented the promise of divine presence with and for Israel. Where Yahweh was present with his people, there was no room for fear. Where Yahweh was present, the rage of the nations was cause for divine laughter and scoffing (2:4).
Particularly in its association with the Davidic dynasty the temple became a source of great confidence and hope. We can see that hope expressed both in David’s charge to Solomon to build the temple (1 Chron. 22:6–10) and in Solomon’s prayer on the occasion of the dedication of the temple, to which the heading of Psalm 30 refers (2 Chron. 6:14–42). In the first passage David recounts to Solomon the promise of Yahweh that Solomon will be the one to build a house for Yahweh’s name, while Yahweh will “establish the throne of his [Solomon’s] kingdom over Israel forever” (1 Chron. 22:10). In Solomon’s dedicatory prayer, the king calls on God to fulfill his promise:
Now LORD, God of Israel, keep for your servant David my father the promises you made to him when you said, “You shall never fail to have a man to sit before me on the throne of Israel, if only your sons are careful in all they do to walk before me according to my law, as you have done.” And now, O LORD, God of Israel, let your word that you promised your servant David come true. (2 Chron. 6:16–17)
The temple, then, is linked in Israel’s mind with the promise to David of an eternal dynasty of Davidic descendants. Although this promise was given on the condition of continued obedience (as the 2 Chron. passage indicates), it was easy for Israel ultimately to assume a direct connection of temple, sacrifice, and worship with God’s promise of continuing security.
The degree to which the Judahites came to trust in the presence of the temple can be seen in Jeremiah’s well-known temple sermon.18 Yahweh sent Jeremiah to stand in the gate of the temple and to call to repentance those passing by on their way to and from worship. His words make it clear that the people were trusting in the presence of Yahweh’s temple to protect them from harm.
Do not trust in deceptive words and say, “This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD!” If you really change your ways and your actions and deal with each other justly . . . if you do not follow other gods to your own harm, then I will let you live in this place, in the land I gave your forefathers for ever and ever. But look, you are trusting in deceptive words that are worthless.
Will you steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury, burn incense to Baal and follow other gods you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which bears my Name, and say, “We are safe”—safe to do all these detestable things? (Jer. 7:4–10)
The Jerusalem temple is a place where God and Israel agree to meet for the forgiveness of sin and the celebration of ongoing communion; it is no amulet to ward off evil. God’s promises of presence and protection are tied in Jeremiah’s sermon to the fulfillment of Israel’s covenant responsibilities to both God and humans. If Israel fails to keep her obligations, then the divine presence and power can be withdrawn and sinful Israel abandoned to the consequences of her rebelliousness. Ezekiel depicts the moment when the glory of Yahweh—the evidence of his presence with Israel—departs in disgust from the Most Holy Place and leaves his people to the merciless attacks of the Babylonian armies (Ezek. 10–11).
Psalm 30 drives home the tension that exists whenever one places a false sense of security in God’s protective power. When one thinks it is possible to separate out the essential minimum of response to God from a wholehearted realization of dependence on him in all of life’s moments, deceptive seeds are planted. Israel thought it was enough to have the temple and to regularly offer sacrifice and worship in the name of Yahweh; then the rest of her life was of little matter. She could live a compassionless, self-focused life of injustice and exploitation; she could worship other gods and yet stand in the Jerusalem temple completely convinced of her invulnerability because of God’s presence in the temple. The Exile, however, finally convicted Israel of what they should have known all along: that Yahweh is a jealous God19 and that enduring faith in him involved the “fear of the LORD”—the recognition and acceptance of absolute dependence on his mercy and grace in all of life.
When sinful people come into the presence of holy God—whether in the temple or elsewhere—they are driven to their knees in acknowledgment of their sin and its deserved judgment. Isaiah’s response to his vision of holy Yahweh in the temple (Isa. 6:1–9) is an illustrative example, but so is the reaction of Samson’s father, Manoah, to the departure of God’s messenger in the flame of a sacrifice (Judg. 13:19–22). So the sudden shift in Psalm 30:6–7 from smug confidence to utter dismay is characteristic of those from whom God has withdrawn his protective power in order to teach them their vulnerability and to call them into a renewed relationship of complete dependence on him.
Contemporary Significance
FROM SECURITY TO DISMAY, AND BACK AGAIN. Psalm 30 is a song for the vagaries of life. It knows God as both closely attentive and pointedly distant. The psalmist within this brief psalm explores the frigid hinterlands of divine absence as well as the sunny heights of God’s gracious presence. This is, of course, nothing particularly new for the biblical psalms of thanksgiving, but Psalm 30 is particularly adept in its expression of the ease with which we can slip from security to dismay, and it is also particularly clear in locating the impetus behind this shift in the attitudes and perceptions of the human heart.
The psalmist declares, “When I was untroubled . . . I thought, ‘I shall never be shaken’ ” (30:7 JPS), and the awareness of divine grace was very real and present. Yet, all it took to bring this sense of eternal security crashing down was for the psalmist to run headlong into the experience of God’s absence: When God hid his face, “I was terrified,” the psalmist wails (30:8 JPS). For most of us, life is full of similar moments when our awareness of God’s presence waxes and wanes. I am talking about our awareness of God here, not the reality of his presence or absence. God is always present, whether we realize it or not. This psalm, however, illustrates how our feelings, our perceptions, can either strengthen or undermine our confidence in facing the circumstances of our lives.
Clearly our perceptions are not always the best judge of reality. God is present even when we doubt it or cannot perceive him. That reality is not changed by our being aware or unaware. Nevertheless, our reaction to our circumstances can be immensely altered by our sense of God’s presence or absence. As the psalmist indicates, the ability to perceive God at work in the midst of a troubled time made all the difference in the world. Wailing turned to a dance of joy, and rich festal garments replaced sackcloth and ashes.
In Philippians 4, Paul talks in a similar way about learning to be “content” in whatever circumstance he might find himself:
I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. (Phil. 4:11–12)
We know Paul experienced great extremes throughout his ministry. Moments of great response to his teaching were followed by times of equally great rejection, when his life was in danger and he was run out of town on a rail. There were joyous relationships of mutual caring and support (like Priscilla and Aquila and the church at Philippi), countered by other contacts where Paul was suspected, criticized, and belittled. What then was Paul’s “secret,” which enabled him to remain content even in times of severe suffering, oppression, and want?
Philippians 4:13 describes clearly the source of Paul’s continuing confidence and contentment: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” The apostle had found a way to focus on the power and strength of God, not his own weakness or the nature of his current circumstances. It was not Paul’s circumstances that gave him confidence or inspired dismay; it was his reliance on the strength of God, who undergirded him in Christ Jesus.
In a different context but with similar effect the author of Hebrews exhorts his readers to avoid the love of money, but to “be content with what you have” (Heb. 13:5). Often we love money and strive after it because of the false sense of financial security it seems to offer, or the power it gives us to manipulate our circumstances and exercise control over our lives. However, Psalm 30, Paul, and the author of Hebrews all agree in cautioning us not to find our security in any circumstance, fickle feeling, or human source of power that seems to offer us control of life. Instead, true contentment—the lasting strength to stand up with confidence in any circumstance—comes only from God, about whom the author of Hebrews goes on to say: “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can [anyone] do to me?” (Heb. 13:6).20
These Scriptures call us, then, to ground our hope and confidence in God alone. Psalm 30 goes further to say that even when God is not particularly apparent or our circumstances suggest he is distant or absent, even then our only hope is to place our trust in him. This placing of our lives in the hands of God is the attitude of submission that the Old Testament knows as “the fear of the LORD.” When we acknowledge that without God life is formless and void, when we admit our own powerlessness, when we acknowledge that he alone has the power to save, then regardless of its circumstances, life with God at the center can be marked with enduring contentment.