I know, Jehovah, that thy Judgments are righteousness, and that in faithfulness thou hast afflicted me.
Psalm 119:75 is the settled verdict of a man who has been hurt and has thought it through. He puts God's rightness and his own pain in one sentence, and he starts with "I know," not "I hope."
One writer traces how the heart reaches such knowledge. It comes by two roads at once: who God is, and the rightness of God not leaving evil alone.
When the soul truly knows God, it rises up to justify Him in His ways, however painful. So the heart knows in a double way that His judgments are right. They are His, and we know what He is. He cannot but do rightly, and more than that, rightly towards us. He is faithful to us in goodness. But then, second, we see that it is morally right. God ought not to allow evil — above all, not in His people. For their good He could not.
One writer treats "in faithfulness" as a third thing the psalmist stands on. God is not only at work in the past. He is present now, and He stays true to what He is.
But there is a third thing now. It assures us of a Living Presence — not only at the beginning or in the past, but continuing right through human history. He stays faithful to His own nature, which is holy, and faithful to His people in His dealings with them. So in these three things, God, His people, and the relationship between them are all recognised.
To say "Your rules are righteous" is to take God's side in the case. Commentators treat this as the turning point where the discipline has done its work.
When the awakened soul, like the dying criminal, justifies God and condemns himself, he is on the eve of forgiveness and blessing. And when the believer under chastisement justifies God, the end is reached, for he has "heard" the rod and who appointed it.
The psalmist does not stop at submission. He bows to the faithful hand, and still counts on kindness.
Even in afflicting him, God had acted in faithfulness. While submitting to God's faithful dealings, he can, in the middle of affliction, count on God's merciful kindness to comfort him, and on His tender mercy to spare him.
The verse names God as the one who struck. So faith has to look past whoever or whatever stood in between.
Let the sufferer simply say, "It is Your hand," "I know that in faithfulness You have afflicted me." The Scriptures are full of this precious truth for the child of God. It leads us past every apparent cause, past all human instruments, and even past Satan himself. Then we see that Hand which "will never cause His child a needless tear." So our blessed Lord took that great affliction at the hands of God: "Shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?"
The affliction has a target: pride, unbelief, and the idols a heart has set up. Where there is any willingness to turn, it does its work.
God's judgments are meant to break down the pride and unbelief of the heart. They do this wherever there is the least trace of submission to Him, the least desire to turn from wickedness to Himself. This is what all chastening does in those who are truly trained by it: "For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?" God's people have known the rod from the beginning. How many have had reason to bless Him beyond measure for the overthrow of idols they had set up, the loss of property, of health, yes, even of life itself!
One writer puts this verse in the mouth of one of the Bible's worst offenders. Manasseh, a king of Judah, was brought low by affliction.
"He humbled himself greatly," as well he might, for his guilt was indeed very great. "When he was in affliction" — no doubt he owned that his punishment was just. "I know, O LORD," he could say, "that Your rules are righteous, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me."
- Know. Faith says "I know," not "I suppose." It rests on two things at once: who God is, and the plain rightness of what He does.
- Right. To call His rules righteous is to justify God and condemn yourself. Commentators say that is the point where the chastening has reached its goal.
- Faithful. "In faithfulness" means the blow comes from a God true to His own holy nature. He is true to His people too.
- His hand. Whatever the visible cause, faith looks past it and says, "It is Your hand." The Lord Himself took His cup from the Father like that.
- Fruit. The rod aims at pride, unbelief and idols. Where there is the least willingness to turn, even a Manasseh can say this verse and mean it.
Oh let thy loving-kindness be for my comfort, according to thy word unto thy servant.
This prayer comes straight after the psalmist admits that God afflicted him — and did it faithfully. Now he asks the hand that struck him to comfort him, and he asks on the ground of God's own promise.
The two halves belong together. The one who justifies God for the affliction is the same one who asks God for comfort in it.
He not only owns that God has fashioned him, but he justifies God in all His dealings with him. Even in afflicting him God had acted in faithfulness. He submits to God's faithful dealings. Yet in the middle of affliction he can still count on God's merciful kindness to comfort him, and on His tender mercy to spare him.
The same God stands behind both the wound and the comfort, and His character does not change between them.
The psalmist looks to the Lord as a faithful Creator, and counts on those who fear Him. As He afflicted for good, so would He show loving-kindness.
A reader might expect the psalmist to ask for the trouble to stop. Instead he asks for kindness inside the trouble, and both requests rest on the same authority.
This means recognizing that God's faithfulness sees fit to send affliction to His servants. Yet along with the affliction he desires God's merciful kindness to be his comfort (v. 76). These are not contrary to one another, both being fully in accord with the Word God has spoken.
There is a wrong way and a right way to want relief. The difference lies in whether the will has been broken.
Merely looking for relief is self-will. If we got that relief, it might bring us more sorrow. But a will that is subdued and broken under chastening is right to desire mercy. It knows this side of God's character, and it wants Him to show it, if possible.
A bowed heart still longs for relief. But it looks for that relief from God, and not on its own terms.
The sense that the chastening comes from God gives submission. And when that submission is complete, it also gives the desire for His favour. One still wants relief. But a subdued heart, while it naturally wants relief, seeks God's favour in it, and comfort from God, not in self-will: "Let your steadfast love comfort me." The apostle speaks of "God, who comforts the downcast."
The closing words — according to God's promise to His servant — are the ground of the whole request. God did not leave His people to guess at His goodness; He bound Himself in words.
He prays that His loving-kindness may be his comfort, according to His promise to him. For God has pledged Himself to His people. It was not enough for Him to say, "You know Me, and that I cannot err or do wrong. Let this be enough for you." We are too frail, too dim-sighted, too little able to see His ways in advance. That could not satisfy us, or satisfy Him about us. So divine love has pledged itself to us and made its covenant with man. And if His word is not enough, He swears as well: "by two unchangeable things" — "His word and His oath" — "we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us." (Heb. 6:17-18.)
That phrase also sets a boundary. You can plead a promise only while you are walking in the way the promise covers.
So we may come with "confidence" to what Scripture calls a "throne of grace" (Heb. 4:16), to find help for the whole way that is His way for us. For any other way we could neither expect nor rightly desire it. This is the force of "according to Your word to Your servant" here. For prayer is crippled, and we lose confidence in it, if our wills fight against God's will.
This prayer does not come from strength. It is the cry of someone who knows he cannot hold himself up. (Older versions say "merciful kindness" or "mercy" where the ESV says "steadfast love.")
Like the psalmist we can pray this prayer: "Please let Your mercy be for my comfort…" (literal rendering). We are so vulnerable, so frail, so weak, so insignificant, but He knows our frailty! That is why we need Him to enfold us in His arms. What comfort a little child finds in his mother's arms when he has fallen!
- Affliction — the psalmist first agrees with God: God afflicted him, and did it faithfully.
- Submission — a broken will may still ask for mercy. Only self-will demands relief on its own terms.
- Plea — he asks not for the pain to end, but for God's kindness to comfort him inside it. The two are not opposites.
- Pledge — his confidence rests on God's word and oath. God gave both because we are too frail and short-sighted to rest on His character alone.
- Comfort — the prayer ends where the frail belong: enfolded, like a fallen child in his mother's arms.
Let thy tender mercies come unto me, that I may live; for thy law is my delight.
This verse is a prayer from someone under God's chastening hand, asking for mercy to reach him so that he can go on living. Two questions sit inside it: what mercy does he ask for, and what right does a sufferer have to ask?
One writer draws out the tenderness behind the word "mercy":
The mercies of God are "tender mercies." They are the mercies of a father to his children — as tender as a mother's compassion for the son she bore. They "come to" us when we are not able to go to them. By them alone we live the life of faith, of love, of joy and gladness. And God will grant these mercies, and this life, to those who delight in His law. He will give them pardon, and in doing so He will give them "life from the dead."
That fits someone too low to travel. The same writer pictures the moment such a prayer is prayed:
Here we invite a Visitor, and we expect Him to bring what we so badly need at this moment. There has been failure. I have failed in my responsibility. I am conscious of defeat and am discouraged. I hesitate to come to Him, but He is already "on the way" to me to lift me up and comfort me.
He asks not just for comfort but for life. Mercy is what keeps spiritual life going under pressure:
The same argument runs into this verse: "For Your law is my delight." So He can freely show His tender mercies. They are so necessary for life itself in a world of conflict — so necessary for strengthening spiritual life.
The sufferer never blames God for the affliction. He owns it as faithfulness, then asks for kindness inside it:
He not only owns that God has fashioned him, but he justifies God in all His dealings with him. Even in afflicting him God had acted in faithfulness. He submits to God's faithful dealings. Even in the middle of affliction, he can count on God's merciful kindness to comfort him, and on His tender mercy to spare him. He can plead this with a clear conscience, for God's law is his delight. There was a time when he went astray and sought his own will; now he delights in God's will.
Wanting the pain to stop can be nothing but self-will. One writer marks the difference:
Merely looking for relief is self-will. If we got it, it might bring us more sorrow. But a will subdued and broken under chastening is right to desire mercy. It knows this side of God's character, and it longs for Him to show it, if possible. In this case it can plead its integrity. The desire is right when submission is complete, so that the heart feels the goodness to be in God. So here, "For Your law is my delight."
The word "law" here is wider than the Ten Commandments:
But does not David say, "Your law is my delight" (Ps. 119:77)? A Hebrew concordance shows that the Hebrew has six different words for "law." … Another word, tohr-ah, appears 25 times in Psalm 119, and the margin of Psalm 19:7 translates it "doctrine." … "Law" here no doubt covers the whole teaching of the Lord to His people, whether in the Ten Commandments or elsewhere. For the Christian, he is in Christ, and he is "to walk as he walked." That is the standard.
So the law meets him as delight, not as threat:
Whatever name the law goes by, it no longer threatens condemnation and death. It is perfect delight and liberty.
- Afflicted — he says God is right before he asks for anything. Even the affliction was God's faithfulness to him.
- Asking — a broken will may ask for relief and be right. The same prayer from an unbroken will is only self-will.
- Arriving — the mercies "come to" us when we cannot go to them. The discouraged man hesitates, and finds God already on the way.
- Alive — mercy is not a comfort added to life but the supply life runs on in a world of conflict.
- Aligned — the plea rests on a changed heart. Once he sought his own will; now God's whole teaching is his delight. For the Christian, the standard is to walk as Christ walked.