(To the chief Musician. A Psalm of David.) How long, Jehovah, wilt thou forget me for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
Psalm 13 opens with a question that has no soft edges: the psalmist tells God to His face that he feels forgotten, and asks how long it will last. Commentators read that cry as real distress and as faith at the same time.
The question is not a complaint thrown into empty air. It assumes God is listening and that He sets limits.
(v. 1) Though tried by evil without and fears within, the grace of God sustains the soul. So comes the cry, "How long?" This is the language of faith that clings to God. Faith knows He will put a limit to the trials of His people and to the evil of the wicked. Faith can ask, "How long will you forget?" in circumstances that seem to say, "For ever."
To say that God has forgotten is to say something impossible about Him.
The psalmist cries a strange cry, born of closeness and of distance at the same time — that Jehovah, the Unchanging, has forgotten! Then will His forgetfulness itself never change? Will it be permanent? Who can read such a riddle as this? Clouds have hidden the sun, but who would then confuse the sun with the cloud? The cloud passes; the sun remains.
Psalms 11 to 15 belong together, and this one marks the bottom.
In this group of psalms (11-15) the distress of the godly soul deepens. In Psalm 11 he sees the "foundations" going. In Psalm 12 the godly man is gone and the faithful disappear from among the children of men. In this Psalm (13) the soul reaches the deepest point of distress, because the circumstances would make it appear that God Himself has forgotten the soul.
What makes it the lowest point is where the trouble seems to come from — not from enemies only, but from God.
Psalm 13 is deeper distress of soul because of a sense that it comes from God. The faith of God's people cannot go on for ever; they cry, "How long?" "Are You treating us as if we were given up? If it goes on like this, I shall faint under it!"
Nothing in the psalm points to sin as the cause. That is part of what makes it so hard. So the delay has another explanation.
We are not told what caused David to write this psalm that found him so depressed; it may have been while he was an exile hunted by Saul. His faith was in the Lord, yet it wavered as he felt the Lord had forgotten him. The time seemed so long that he feared it might stretch on for ever (v. 1). Such experiences are truly a trial of faith, especially since there is no sign of failure or sin on David's part.
Though the time seems endless, it is God's wisdom that delays the answer. He is patient toward the ungodly. He also knows that His servants need a long exercise of heart, so that faith may be both tested and strengthened.
Should a believer today make these words his own? One writer says the Christian's standing rules out this complaint.
No Christian who knew the grace of God in truth could ever rightly speak the complaint with which this Psalm begins. For the standing of a Christian is a conscious acceptance in the Beloved. He is no longer a stranger, but an heir of God... He is kept in Christ before the Father's face for ever.
For Israel under the old covenant, a hidden face was part of the agreed terms.
That Jehovah should hide His face from His people under the old covenant was strictly in keeping with the terms of the covenant itself. Their disobedience would provoke His anger. The effect would be a course of discipline. Its sharpest edge was that He withdrew His visible favour from them. Without it they were defenceless prey before their enemies.
The words are also read as belonging to a future time of trouble for God's people in Israel.
They are indeed in deep distress... Already the cry is going up from many a heart, "How long will you forget me, O Jehovah? for ever? how long will you hide your face from me?" (Ps. 13:1)... The time of their deliverance has not yet come, but their groans and cries are heard.
The psalm moves from this question to singing.
God snaps the ties of nature in everything that sin has spoiled. He ends all dependence on the creature — and so on self — so that all our trust may fasten on Himself. Then, when we make Him everything, we find Him everything... Here the soul begins with a groan and ends with a song. We have passed through a tunnel of earth into the unveiled glory of heaven.
- Groan. The psalm begins at the lowest point of a series. The trouble seems to come from God Himself, not just from enemies.
- Riddle. To say the Unchanging has forgotten is to confuse the cloud with the sun; the cloud passes, the sun stays.
- Faith. "How long?" is not unbelief but faith's own word, asking a limit from God while the circumstances shout "for ever."
- Delay. No sin explains the silence here. God's wisdom stretches the waiting, so that faith is tested and strengthened.
- Song. When every other support snaps, trust fastens on God alone. The psalm that opened with a groan closes with singing.
How long shall I take counsel in my soul, with sorrow in my heart daily? how long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?
The psalmist has already asked "How long?" twice about God's silence; now he turns the same question on himself and on his enemy. Three pressures meet in one line: a mind arguing with itself, a heart in sorrow all day, and a foe lifted high. The question is whether any of them has a limit.
The question is not asked once. One writer counts the cries and traces how the trial grows:
Four times "How long?" The trial of faith becomes more severe. Sorrow is in the heart and an enemy is outside. Has Jehovah then forgotten? The hearts begin to despair; an answer is demanded, it must come "lest I sleep the sleep of death."
This psalm is heavier than the ones before it. The difference is not the size of the trouble but where the sufferer feels it comes from:
Psalm 13 is a deeper distress of soul because of a sense of its being from God. The faith of God's people cannot go on for ever; they cry, "How long?" "Are You treating us as if we were given up? If it goes on like this, I shall faint under it!"
To take counsel in my soul is to hold a private conference with myself, apart from God. That inward turn produces the other two things this verse names:
Under the pressure of the circumstances the soul turns in upon itself — taking counsel in its own soul apart from God. The weary reasonings of the mind bring no relief. The result of self-occupation, as always, is to fill the heart with sorrow, and to give the enemy an occasion to triumph over the soul.
The delay is not neglect. One writer gives two reasons why God lets the clock run:
Though the time seems endless, it is God's wisdom that delays the answer. He waits not only because He is patient toward the ungodly, but because He knows how necessary it is for His servants to be exercised in heart for a long time, so that faith may be both tested and strengthened.
The enemy is "exalted over me" — that is, measured against the psalmist's own strength. Later in the psalm the measure changes:
With his eyes enlightened, the soul sees clearly the aims of the enemy, and that the resource of the godly is found in the mercy and salvation of the Lord. Occupied with himself, he can only see his own weakness and the power of the enemy in relation to himself. Having turned to the Lord, he sees the enemy in relation to the Lord. The heart was filled with sorrow when it was occupied with its own reasonings in verse 2. Now the heart rejoices in view of the mercy and salvation of the Lord.
One writer applies the psalm to the believer now, and names the promise that answers the fear:
Such experiences are indeed a trial of faith, especially since there is no sign of failure or sin on David's part. Yet the believer today may be lifted high above his circumstances. He needs only to take to heart the truth of the word of the Lord Jesus: "I will never leave you nor forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5). If it seems He has left us, this word is enough to cancel such a fear.
- Counsel — Apart from God, the soul holds a private council with itself. The reasoning goes round and round and brings no relief.
- Sorrow — Self-occupation ends the same way every time. The heart fills with grief, and the grief returns each day.
- Enemy — Measured against my own strength, the foe towers over me. Measured against the Lord, he is small.
- Delay — God's silence is planned, not careless. He is patient toward the ungodly, and He keeps His servants waiting so that faith is tested and strengthened.
- Turn — Looking inward brings sorrow. Looking to the Lord lightens the eyes, and the heart that was full of sorrow rejoices.
Consider, answer me, O Jehovah my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the [sleep of] death;
Psalm 13 opens with two verses of unanswered "How long?" Here the psalmist stops questioning God and starts asking Him for something. What he asks for is small: not rescue, not the enemy's defeat, but light for his eyes.
In the verse before, the trouble is not the enemy. It is the conversation the soul keeps having with itself:
When circumstances press hard, the soul turns in on itself. It takes counsel with itself, apart from God. The weary reasonings of the mind bring no relief. Self-occupation always ends the same way. It fills the heart with sorrow, and it gives the enemy an occasion to triumph over the soul.
Verse 3 reverses the direction, and the eyes are the first thing to change:
Relief comes through prayer. Prayer turns the soul from self to the Lord, and at once the eyes are lightened — the spiritual sight is cleared. Turning in upon self darkens the heart with sorrow; looking out to the Lord lightens the eyes.
The request is not for the trial to end but for sight inside it — for understanding of why it is there.
His distress has taken up verses 2 and 3. Yet he rises above it far enough to pray with more confidence to the Lord his God: "Consider and answer me, O LORD my God." So he does not give way to his despair. He looks up in confidence that God will enlighten his eyes — that is, give him discernment of the reason for his trial. May we too have confidence that God will give us discernment about whatever may test us.
One writer sees the collapse of every other support as the sign that faith is about to revive. He pictures it with a memorable image.
At His feet the soul grows bolder. The despair of all else shows that faith is about to revive. Despair of all else makes God the one grand resource. We grasp an unbreakable holdfast with one hand. With the other we grasp some poor weed or thin thread that could not hold us up for a moment. Then, when the thread snaps, we cry, "Oh, the holdfast has given way!" — when all we needed to do was put both hands on it. This is the lesson. At once the soul finds the right argument, not with itself but with God. "Light up my eyes," it says. "Lord, You know. You are the light of them: yes, the light of life itself. If You are not with me, it is only death."
The plea rests on need alone — and it is made to infinite Love.
What an argument to infinite Love, if we can truly say it: "Lord, You are my one necessity. You are the light of these poor eyes, the light in which alone we see light. You are the Life without whom there is only, only death!" The Holy Spirit Himself teaches this prayer — He who "intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." We put both arms round Him when we say it. It is a prayer open to us all, a child's prayer, an infant's prayer. The tender pity of God will never refuse it.
The fear named here is not only of dying but of what the enemy would claim if he did.
Here the psalmist asks God to step in and keep him from sleeping the sleep of death. Then his enemy cannot claim to have prevailed against him. Of course, the Lord would not allow the enemy to prevail, for it is God Himself who will always prevail. If anything moved David off the path of faith, the enemy would rejoice. But God keeps His child from being moved.
One writer reads the verse forward. He ties this cry for sight to two blind men whose sight Jesus restored, and to a faithful group in Israel who will make the same cry in a day still to come:
The two blind men picture a faithful group in Israel, both in that day and in the day still to come. They will cry to the Lord for sight and lay hold of the promises given in the Son of David (Ps. 13:3). The remnant of that day had their sight restored and were led out to follow Jesus. In the same way, God will meet the blind but crying one of the coming time with mercy and healing, and will lead him to follow Jesus into perfect blessing.
- Darkness — talking your trouble over with yourself fills the heart with sorrow and gives the enemy an opening.
- Turn — the verse is the pivot of the psalm: the soul stops arguing with itself and starts arguing with God.
- Light — the plea is for cleared sight: discernment of why the trial is there.
- Grip — when every fragile support snaps, put both hands on the one holdfast that never gave way.
- Life — "You are my one necessity" is a prayer small enough for a child and, commentators say, never refused.
Lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed against him! [lest] mine adversaries be joyful when I am moved.
The psalm has sunk to its lowest point. The prayer here is not just for rescue; it asks that God leave the enemy no boast.
This verse sits in a psalm where human hostility has gone as far as it can go. One writer follows the movement: the sense of being forgotten, then a cry with two requests in it.
In Psalm 13 the righteous man sinks to the lowest point of distress that evil from men can cause. It is as if God had completely and finally forgotten him. His enemy was lifted up over him, and he was turning things over in his own heart. But then he cries out. He looks to Jehovah to hear him, so that he will not perish on the one side, and so that his enemy on the other side will not get to say he had prevailed.
The enemy presses hard all through this psalm. A commentator points to what God is doing inside that pressure.
The enemy's pressure runs all through these experiences. Yet God is also working blessing through it, as He does in all things: "For those who love God all things work together for good." Here the psalmist pleads that the enemy may not triumph, and that his adversaries may not get to gloat when he is moved.
The prayer just before this verse was for enlightened eyes. What follows is what such eyes take in.
With eyes enlightened, the soul sees the enemy's aims clearly. It also sees that the resource of the godly is the mercy and salvation of the Lord. While he is occupied with himself, he can only see his own weakness and the enemy's power against him. Once he has turned to the Lord, he sees the enemy in relation to the Lord.
The same writer traces where the darkness starts.
Relief comes through prayer, which turns the soul from self to the Lord. The immediate result is that the eyes are lightened — the spiritual sight is cleared. Turning in on self darkens the heart with sorrow; looking out to the Lord lightens the eyes.
The fear here is real, but the outcome is not in doubt. Where the ESV says "shaken," older translations read "moved," and that is the word this writer uses.
Here the psalmist asks God to step in and keep him from sleeping the sleep of death, so that his enemy cannot claim he has prevailed against him. Of course, the Lord would not allow the enemy to prevail, for it is God Himself who will always prevail. If David were moved in any way off the path of faith, the enemy would rejoice. But it is God who keeps His child from being moved.
Commentators differ on how far a Christian should make these words his own. One argues that the opening complaint does not fit a believer's settled position at all.
No Christian who truly knew the grace of God could ever rightly speak the complaint this Psalm begins with. For a Christian stands in a conscious acceptance in the Beloved... They have slept through their sleep of death in Him who died for them and rose again.
Another writer still finds a lesson here, in the very situation this verse describes.
Yet the Christian may be tested when the power of evil seems to win for a moment. In that case he can look to the Lord for deliverance, and not be left as if God did not care for him... The soul is not only surrounded by heartless enemies with no conscience, but also seems forgotten by God — and still it trusts in His mercy.
The psalm does not stay where this verse leaves it. The last verse answers the cry.
Then the last verse celebrates the actual deliverance which surely follows. And now the joy is as lively as the distress was deep. The sigh becomes a song.
- Lowest — The deepest point of the psalm: the enemy lifted up, God seemingly gone, the sufferer turning things over in his own heart.
- Looking — Turning inward darkens the heart. Turning to the Lord lightens the eyes, and then the soul sees the enemy next to the Lord, not next to itself.
- Boast — The plea is that the enemy never gets to say he won. He never will. God always prevails, and God keeps His own from being moved.
- Belonging — Commentators differ here. One holds that a Christian, accepted in the Beloved, could not rightly voice the complaint that opens the psalm. Another says a believer tested by evil's short-lived triumph can still trust God's mercy like this.
- Song — The pressure of the enemy is the very thing God works blessing through, until the sigh becomes a song.