Psalm Chapter 39

Psalm 39: The Brevity That Burns

David tried to stay silent. He bridled his tongue, held his peace — even from good, he tells us, which is a remarkable detail. He would not trust himself to open his mouth at all, lest the wrong thing escape. But silence only made the fire hotter. "While I was musing the fire burned: then spake I with my tongue." And what comes out is not complaint, exactly, but something more disorienting: a prayer to understand his own smallness. "Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am." He wants to feel his own brevity. And when he does — "Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth" — it does not lead to despair but to a strange, scorching clarity. Every man at his best state is vanity. Every man walks in a vain show. He heaps up riches and knows not who shall gather them. And then, from that burned-over ground, the only possible next sentence: "And now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee." When everything temporary has been named as temporary, only the eternal remains to hope in.

00:00 The Bridled Tongue, the Burning Heart
01:00 A Handbreadth of Days
02:00 A Stranger and Sojourner