Sermons from the Psalms, 7 - The Goodness of God
By Clovis G. Chappell
"O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together." Psalm 34:3
Clovis G. Chappell: THIS sunny singer has a wooing word upon his lips. He is not abusive. He is not undertaking to prod us. He is not setting himself to the task of driving [compelling] us out to church. He is resolved that he himself will go. He is bent upon having a praise service. In fact, the giving of thanks is to be henceforth a fixed habit with him. Every day is to be a thanksgiving day. "I will bless the Lord at all times," he sings happily. "His praise shall continually be in my mouth." He is eager that we share his gratitude; so he knocks on our doors, lays eager hands upon us, and says cheerfully, "O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together."
I
Why is this man so full of gratitude? Why is it that for him to open his mouth is to burst forth into spontaneous praise? It is not because his circumstances are perfect. This Psalm is thought by some to have been written by David while he was in hiding from Saul. But whether this is the case or not, the author, whoever he is, faces the fact that circumstances are often against us. "Many are the afflictions of the righteous," (Psa. 34:19) he tells us frankly. He is wise enough to know that if we wait till everything is perfectly to our liking before we give thanks, then we are likely to wait forever.
Do you remember that wonderful palace of which we read in the Arabian Nights? (trans. Sir Richard Francis Burton) It was a veritable dream of loveliness. The owner was naturally exceedingly proud of it. One day he was showing its marvelous wealth and beauty to a friend. When this friend had looked it over he said: "Yes, it is wonderful, it is almost perfect. All that is needed is a roc's egg to swing from the ceiling." But the owner of the palace did not know what a roc was, nor did he know that it laid eggs. Naturally he did not know where its eggs were if it did lay. So his friend left him in wretchedness and bitter discontent. His palace was little better than a prison without a roc's egg to swing from the ceiling and thus make it perfect.
Nor is this man grateful because of any goodness or greatness he sees in himself. He is boasting, but he is not boasting of his own achievements. We do not like boasting that is born of self-importance. Such boasting is bad taste. It is a mark of conceit. It is thoroughly offensive. But not so the boasting of this joyous singer. "My soul shall make her boast in the Lord." I could wish that we had a congregation made up of such boasters. I could wish that we might have a city full of them. I could wish that we might have a world of them. Such boasters do not offend; they delight. They do not make us sad; they make us glad.
"My soul shall make her boast in the Lord: the humble shall hear thereof and be glad." Certainly, because the humble, being poor in spirit, know that if there is to be any amazing worth in themselves it is to come from God. Therefore, when they hear one as weak as themselves boasting in the Lord, they take heart. They rejoice with a glad hopefulness and expectancy.
Gratitude Out of Experience
What, then, is the secret of the gratitude of this singer? First, his gratitude is born of his own personal experience. He claims that he has been a seeker after God. "I sought the Lord," he tells us, with beautiful candor. He has been an explorer, an investigator in the realm of the spiritual. What has he found? He ought to be especially fitted to speak to this age that is so scientifically-minded. We are concerned with facts; so is this seeker after God. Having sought, he reports his findings. I think we may listen to him with confidence. We may listen with the conviction that discoveries in the realm of the spiritual are no less valid than discoveries in the realm of the material. Having tested by experience, he has a right to speak. And mark you, it is only such who can speak with authority. This is true in every field of knowledge.
Suppose, now that Commander Byrd has returned to the United States (1930), he should make statements about the south pole and its environs that I should feel disposed to dispute. Who would take me seriously? Men would say: "This brave explorer has ventured his life to see and to map the country of which he speaks. He has been there, while this preacher has never been beyond the equator." Therefore, I should be utterly discredited, and rightly so. But when some atheistic scientist or philosopher undertakes to speak on matters of religion, we often take him seriously, even though he has confessedly never been earnest enough to test by experience that of which he speaks. The wisest scholar in the world who has lived his life in willful ignorance of God has no more right to a hearing on the validity of our faith than has a mole on the reality and beauty of the sunrise.
Delivery from Fear
"I sought the Lord," says this sunny psalmist. Then what came of it? This is his confident answer: "He heard me and delivered me from all my fears." What a declaration! He had his fears. That is no doubt the reason he began to seek. We too seldom seek with seriousness till we get desperate. He was beset by tormenting terrors. He does not tell us that of which he was afraid. He may have been afraid of the loss of his wealth or of his health or of one dearly loved. He may have been afraid of the sins of his youth. He may have been afraid of some foul habit that had taken him captive and bound him hand and foot. He may have been afraid of death or of that which might lie beyond death. But whatever his fears, they were making his blood run cold as they closed about him like wolves about a belated traveler at eventide.
