“The Pathway to Happiness” (Psalms 1 & 2)

So this morning, we begin a summer series on the Psalms by looking at Psalms 1 and 2, because together they act as the introduction to the rest of the Psalms. Do you know how in some lengthy books there’s an intro where the author explains what the book is about and how to use it? That’s what Psalms 1 and 2 are meant to do—they tell us what the Psalms are about and how we’re meant to read them.

And if you were listening carefully, you might have noticed that our passage began and ended with the same word: “Blessed.” Do you see that? Verse 1: “Blessed is the man who and then again in 2:12 “Blessed are all who take refuge in him.” That’s no accident: we’re meant to understand us that the book of Psalms trains and instructs us in the way of blessedness. Which I know sounds really churchy, so let me translate. The word blessed speaks of meaningful happiness—not just momentary pleasure, but something full that lasts—it’s a good life. Psalm 1 gives us a picture: imagine a tree right next to a river, a tree that is always nourished, always strong, always fruitful, even in times of heat or drought. That’s what these Psalms mean by blessed: strength, resilience, lasting success, satisfaction. The book of Psalms, we are meant to understand, is a guide for experiencing meaningful happiness in life. 

We can find all sorts of advice about how to be happy. Most of it, I suspect you’ll agree, isn’t worth a whole lot. This week I Googled, “Keys to finding happiness, and discovered this sage wisdom: here are a few of the 33 keys to happiness one website mentioned:

1. Surround yourself with people who smile (I get it, but that kind of feels creepy, right—do people always have to smile?)
2. Socialize frequently (sorry introverts).
3. Listen to your heart
4. Enjoy what you do—which for me raises the question: what happens if my heart says I don’t want to socialize frequently and I’m not enjoying what I do?
5. Stop worrying—but wait, you’ve got me worrying about whether I should socialize frequently if my heart doesn’t enjoy that.
6. Choose to be happy

This doesn’t feel very helpful. And it’s worth asking, do we really have much of a say about whether or not our lives are happy? Isn’t it true that some of us have just hit the genetic lottery and are happier people? Isn’t it the case that some of us have experienced some really hard stuff in our past that continues to weigh on us—stuff that we had no control over? And isn’t it the case that some people are born into more difficult socioeconomic situations than others, which will make a huge difference on their lives? Given all that, can we really choose a way that will bring us happiness?   

And these opening Psalms tell us that yes, even despite all of this, there still is a choice, a meaningful choice. There are ultimately, 1:6 tells us, two pathways each of us can choose to walk along. One of these pathways will lead us to the “tree by a river” life of blessedness. And the other, verse 6 tells us, brings about a very different image: becoming like chaff that the wind drives away. A few days ago we all experienced our air being filled with little particles resulting from smoke. It hung around for a couple of days, making things difficult. But then the wind moved it, and it disappeared. A temporary annoyance that we will soon forget. That, the Psalm tells us, is the final destination of the other path. There is a choice, the Psalms are telling us, between the life that comes to resemble a strong fruitful tree, or the life that ultimately becomes dust in the wind.. You are not just determined by your circumstances and your genetics: you have a choice between the way of blessedness and the way of perishing.

The difference between these two ways, named as the ways of the righteous and the way of the wicked, ultimately hangs on one question: what will you choose to do with the rule of God? In different ways these 2 Psalms show us that blessedness comes by living under God’s rule.

In Psalm 1, the focus is on the Torah, which is translated in verse 2 as “Law.” The Torah of the Lord is God’s instructions for how to relate to him as God; it’s what we have in the first 5 books of the Bible Genesis through Deuteronomy. Blessedness is for the one who delight in this Torah.

And then Psalm 2 the focus shifts from the book of the Law to the person meant to embody it: to the one identified first in verse 2 as the “Anointed,” referred to in verse 6 as “My King on Zion” and then in verse 7 as “My Son.” God told David that one of his descendants, a future king, would so perfectly submit to God’s Torah and so perfectly represent God’s rule to his people that he would be identified as God’s Son. And blessedness, we are told, comes in submitting to God’s rule by showing allegiance to the Son. Kiss the Son, verse 12 says, “blessed are all who take refuge in him.”

The point of these read together is that the way of blessedness: the tree-life rather than the chaff-life, is the way of embracing and finding refuge in the rule of God.

And the reason these Psalms are the introduction is they are meant to teach us that this is the entire purpose of the book of Psalms. The Psalms are given to help us embrace and find refuge in the rule of God,  to guide our steps in the way of blessedness.

In Psalm 1 the delight in God’s Torah is shown by meditating on it day and night. Pondering it, praying it, seeking to internalize it 24-7. How do we do that? Through the Psalms. The 150 Psalms are divided into 5 books, and that’s not accident, and that’s no accident That structure is meant to show us that these are the accompanying piece to the five books of the Torah, these are songs and ponderings and prayers by which we live internalize God’s instruction.

But if to really understand these Psalms, we need to see that it’s not first and foremost our prayers and songs and ponderings. The entire Psalter is haunted by one figure: the Anointed one. The first half of the Psalms are almost all “Psalms of David,” and even after the King and the promise of the anointed one keep becoming the focal point. The Psalms is first and foremost the songbook of the anointed one. We understand the Psalms best if we imagine the King who perfectly embodies God’s rule as the lead singer with us only the background singers.

Perhaps at this point it’s worth me making something. That word, “Anointed One” is very important in the Bible. In Hebrew this word is “Messiah.” And in Greek the word is “Christ.” These Psalms are first and foremost the songs, not just of David, who died long before these Psalms were finished being written, but of the promised Christ, the one that God would someday call “Son,” a human being who will somehow perfectly embody God’s rule on earth. In other words, these Psalms are the songs of Jesus. As he lived on earth, he sung these songs to take refuge in his God, to submit to his Father’s rule, to bring salvation to his people. When people read and pray and sing these Psalms, we are singing with Jesus, we are placing ourselves under his leadership. We are “kissing the Son” and in so doing we also are taking refuge in God.

Here’s what the opening Psalms are saying: “Do you want a good life? You have a choice. Read and sing and pray these Psalms until they are a part of you. This is how you take refuge in the rule of God; this is how we entrust ourselves to our King Jesus; this is the path of blessedness.  

Objections

Now, having said that, my guess is that many of us have a hard time fully believing this—the idea that we can find happiness by placing ourselves under God’s rule as we sing the Psalms with Jesus. Because honestly, sometimes this just doesn’t feel true.

According to our Psalms, what we might call the majority position in our world is that the opposite is the case: that blessedness is found in escaping God’s rule. Psalm 2 envisions for us kind an ancient United Nations where all the important dignitaries of all the countries come together around one goal: to break free of the rule of God. Verses 1 and 2: “The nations are raging. The peoples are plotting. The kings of the earth and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and his Anointed one. They are doing this because, as Psalm 1 describes them, they are scoffers: together the experts in the world believe that following God’s instruction is foolishness.

Slavery

Why do they believe this? Well, in 2:3 we find what we might call the world’s anthem, the battle song of the resistance: “Let us burst their bonds apart—“their” here is God and his Anointed One: let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.” Do you get the gist here? Bonds and chains—that’s slavery language. For most people, the idea of having to submit ourselves to the commands of this God diminishes our dignity and sense of self. It takes away our freedom. It feels dehumanizing.

If you think about it, people’s attitudes haven’t changed much over the centuries. When I was working on my doctorate I studied a man by the name of John Stuart Mill whose writing on liberty has been very influential in how our nation thinks of it. And he spoke of how Christianity is narrow, it pinches us. There is a person inside each of us that needs to grow into who we are, discover our desires, our identity. And if we have a God just telling us what to do and what not to do, we can never become who we really are.

This is the song our world sings, and we hear it deep within us, don’t we? We are fine with the idea of a God who provides, a God who gives us a sense of transcendence. But a God who commands, who tells us to do things that make no sense to us and we’re just supposed to obey. A God who will sometimes act in ways that confuse us, bringing us through suffering that I really don’t desire? That feels like chains. If I feel that spending my money in a certain way will be fulfilling, why should I have to listen to a God telling me to use my money differently? Or why should I have to shape the way I spend my time by what I think Jesus wants? Or why, if I know I love someone, do I have to let God tell me who or who not to sleep with? Freedom is good. And placing ourselves under the rule of another feels like the opposite of freedom.

But it’s worth at least asking: has casting off the rule of God brought us freedom, made us more human, given us more dignity? Abigail Favale in her book “Genesis of Gender” describes a moment when, on a plane that’s just landed, she notices a man opening up a dating app on his phone. “He’s scrolling for sex. Women’s faces flash across his phone screen. He swipes most of them away with barely a glance, unbelievably quickly. Peering shamelessly over his shoulder, I see woman after woman…face after face, some smiling brightly, others tentatively, hopefully. Some attempting seduction…He pauses only on the faces that are young half his age, pressing a button with his thumb to file those women away for later. I think about each woman… her desire for love, for companionship. To be seen. To be known. To be looked upon with adoration and respect. What woman, what human, doesn’t want these things? As Favale watches, she finds herself feeling a deep anger at this man, “He is not seeing these women as persons. He is assessing them hastily as potential outlets for his appetites. Like scouring a drive-thru window for that burger that will hit the spot. His actions are frantic; compulsive. He’s trolling for prey like a shark circling endlessly unable to stop moving. He is not in control; he is being controlled. Just as his lust obscures the personhood of the face on his screen so it also diminishes his own humanity. In making objects of these women, he has made an animal of himself.

That is casting off the bonds of God’s rule. But I have to ask, is that freedom?

Life Isn’t Better

Now my guess is that there’s an even deeper reason that some of us have a hard time believing that this choice to find refuge in God’s rule truly is the way to happiness. And that is, quite honestly, that in our normal human experience it doesn’t seem true.

Each of us know stories that seem to contradict this, right? We might have them ourselves. Stories of people who earnestly seek to trust in Jesus and yet their spouse leaves them and finds what seems like a happy life even in disobedience to God. Or their company goes bankrupt because someone else takes advantage of them. Or their spouse is diagnosed with a fatal disease. If you think about it, the reason that the nations can sing, “Let’s break their bonds” is because it doesn’t really feel like there’s much evidence that God is in control anyway.

This actually is one of the very central themes that the Psalms wrestle with. Why do the wicked seem to prosper and the righteous don’t? Why does God sometimes seem far off and slow to answer prayers? I don’t feel like a tree planted by streams of water. No, as one Psalm puts it, “My life is spent with sorrow, and my years with sighing; my strength fails because of my iniquity, and my bones waste away.” You might say I’m a tree, but I feel an awful lot like chaff.

Psalm 2 tells us that almost the whole world is singing this anthem of verse 3. “God is trying to enslave us and the life he offers isn’t really better, so be free of him. Cast off those bonds!” It’s a song, if we’re honest, that can feel like it drowns out anything else. It can feel almost inevitable that life will be better if we live by our own rules rather than God’s.

Jesus Sings

But I want to return to a point we considered earlier and invite you, even in the midst of the world’s loud singing to recognize that there is a voice, clear and confident, that is singing out this different song. There is Jesus, who himself sings these Psalms, all 150 of them, with wholehearted conviction.

And if we will listen to Jesus singing these Psalms, here is what we will discover.

First, in these songs of Jesus we discover that following God’s rule does not diminish our humanity. It fulfills it. For what do we find Jesus singing in these Psalms? Not only does he sing words of praise, of awe and wonder at God, but he also sings words of lament, of deep grief; he will sing of gratitude for God answering prayer, but he also will cry out with longing, “How Long, O Lord.” He will sing words of wisdom, like we find in Psalm 1, and he also sings questions of confusion, and he, as one who identifies with his people, will even sing songs of confession of sin. Jesus, our king and leader, was fully one of us, fully human. And we see in his songs, in these Psalms that every part of what it means to be human is welcomed by God, even the confession of our sin.

Sometimes the way Christians worship can imply that no humans are allowed. We have to be something other to approach God. And definitely no sinners are allowed. But the Psalms of Jesus show us that the pathway of following him is a pathway where weakness, confusion, longing, and even acknowledgement of our sinful failure all can be brought into our relationship with God and worship of him. The way of taking refuge in God is the pathway in which all of our humanity has a place and is made whole. Think again of that image of the man swiping repeatedly on Tinder. Now think of what we see of Jesus on earth, how he lived and related to others and even chose to lay down his life for others. Which of these two pictures is more a picture of life, of freedom; which is more like a tree planted by water, and which is more like chaff? The Psalms that instruct us to live under the rule of Jesus are also the Psalms that lead us in the way of freedom. That’s the way we want.

But what about the fact that the life of following God’s instruction sometimes simply doesn’t seem to work as God has promised? It’s important to remember that we are told in Psalm 1 that we are invited to a way, a journey. And the Psalms that follow show us that this journey will not always be easy or understandable. And so we should not be surprised that there is confusion as we go. This is why, again, we must listen to the Anointed One as he sings these Psalms. Because while we are only partway along the path he has already arrived at the destination. Along the way he has sung the songs we find ourselves singing that, of gratitude and joy and also of grief and even desolation: at the cross, in the midst of unimaginable agony, what did Jesus cry out? Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” He more than we ever will, knows how dark and difficult the way of righteousness can be.

But that is no longer his song, for Jesus has finished walking the way of righteousness and has come to the promised destination. Now he sings, not a song of lament but of praise. His testimony: “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction and set my feet upon a rock.” The Father, raising Jesus from the dead, declared to him, “You are my Son; today I have begotten you; ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage,” which is why Jesus says after rising, “All authority on heaven on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations.” Jesus in the fullest sense is the tree planted by streams of water yielding its fruit in season. In all that he does, Jesus prospers.

And Jesus with joy and certainty sings to us, “Blessed are those who take refuge in the rule of the Lord.” There is a real sense in which this is already true. There is a wisdom and goodness in the way of God’s instructions that we can experience even now. But the strength, the ability we have to withstand suffering and still rejoice comes in the fact that our hope is not in the present. That we have a certain joy that lies in the future.

Do you want a life of happiness? Do you want to be a tree? Of course we do. And so the Psalms say, come and see. Come and meditate on the instruction of God. Blessed is the one who meditates on it day and night. Come and sing together, sing with Jesus. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.