How The Gospel Brings Us All The Way Home | Psalm 84
I invite you to turn the book of Psalms, and to the 84th Ps. Psalm 84. The summer of 2022, for me, has been a season of milestones. It was 50 years ago, this June, when Jesus began to become more than a name to me. Also in June, my wife and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. Laurie and I have been married longer that most of you have been alive. Last Sunday (July 31), marked the completion of my 38th consecutive year of vocational pastoral ministry. I’ve been a pastor longer than most of you have been alive. Last weekend, I was blessed with the privilege of preaching at the 150th anniversary of my home church. First Baptist Church of Long Prairie, MN was organized and officially registered as a legal entity in 1872. One of our young men said to me, “For you, that’s barely two lifetimes.” Just barely. Not that long at all.
On account of these milestones, I have found myself drawing from a fairly deep well of memory, recollection of both highs and lows, seasons of sweetness and sorrow, times of fruitfulness and barrenness, things that I relish and things I regret. Yes. I have regrets. Keith Anderson, the former campus pastor at the University of Sioux Falls, writes,
“We live in what we have built. The stories of our life become a house we inhabit – with its limitations, eccentricities, mistakes, hidden meanings, and crafted beauty.”
—Keith Anderson
That is an accurate way of summarizing my thoughts. Over the course of a lifetime, we live in what we have built. Our limitations become clearly defined. Our eccentricities are “out there” for everyone to see. Our mistakes, over time, they’re harder to hide. Certain things that didn’t make much sense, now possess more in the way of meaning. And there are things about us – gifts, traits – developed and sanctified - that shine. Dr. Anderson says,
“We are formed by our story, and we are formed as we tell our story to others, and as we learn to read our life as a story with others.”
—Keith Anderson
I’ve found that to be true. I’ve been formed by my story. I’m still being formed every time I tell my story. And we’re formed as we learn to read, together with one another, our respective stories. And I believe Ps. 84 provides a framework for reading the story of our lives. Ps. 84 helps us discern its meaning. So, it is with anticipation that I invite you, if you’re able, to stand, and follow along as I read Ps. 84. This is God’s holy and life-giving Word.
How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD. My heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house, ever singing your praise! Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs. The early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength. Each one appears before God in Zion.
O LORD God of hosts, hear my prayer. Give ear, O God of Jacob! Behold our shield, O God. Look on the face of your anointed!
For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
For the LORD God is a sun and shield. The LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in you!
—Psalm 84
May the Lord bless the reading and the hearing and the proclamation of His Word. Let’s pray.
The writer of Psalm 84 is going somewhere. V. 5, “Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion . . . (V. 6) As they go through the Valley of Baca . . . (V. 7) They go from strength to strength” (Psalm 84:5-7).
You get the picture that the Psalmist is going. And where he’s going is to where God is. Vv. 1- 2, “How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD” (Psalm 84:1-2).
So the Psalmist is going somewhere and where he is going is to where God is. And he’s not necessarily talking about going to where God is ultimately – like heaven. And, though he does use the vocabulary of temple worship such as “the courts of the Lord” and God’s “altars” and God’s “house”, or appearing before God “in Zion”, I do not believe he is necessarily limiting himself to going to where God is in a particular sense – like going to church or to a worship service. Rather, the writer is going to where God is throughout life. That is –
All of Life Is an Opportunity To Go Where God Is
He passes through valleys and deserts. He enjoys places where there are springs and pools. He encounters times of weakness and times of strength. He experiences both pain and comfort, as well as times of joy and times when his dependence on God is severely tested. But the governing direction is always God and God’s presence. God is the destination. Going and God. Going and God.
Loved ones, Ps. 84 helps us understand that –
Our Hearts Are Not at Home Until Our Hearts Find Their Home in God
Our hearts are not at home until our hearts find their home in God, through Christ. That’s the plotline of Ps. 84. And it’s the plotline of Scripture. Our hearts are not at home until our hearts find their home in God, through Christ. And it’s the plotline that helps us make sense of our stories. It’s the plotline that helps us make sense of who we are, and how we have come to be who we are.
I was ten years old. It was beautiful summer day. I went out to back yard and found my mom lying on the ground under the clothes-line. She was having a heart-attack. And she whispered to me that I needed to go get the neighbors. And I cried. And I prayed the first sincere prayer I’d ever prayed. “O God, don’t let my mom die.” And God answered my prayer. My mom didn’t die. And that left an impression on me. I also remember that we were cared for, during those anxious days, by the pastor and the people of our church. And that left an impression on me. But mostly, I remember how it all made me thoughtful w/regard to eternal matters. People really die, and then what? That weighed on me.
At what point did you begin to take seriously the possibility that there might be something after this life? And what was it that provoked that thought? Or have you ever taken the matter of eternity seriously?
After my mom’s first heart-attack, I remember that my dad, who showed no sign of being a man of faith, insisted that we go to church on Sundays. I don’t remember a thing about what was preached. But I do remember that I liked sitting close to my dad. He felt present to me in that place. And I loved hearing my mom sing the alto line on the songs. I remember going to Sunday School. And I remember there was this older couple - who taught the 5th and 6th grade SS class. At least they were older than my parents. And I remember they were very kind. And they smiled a lot. And I always felt like they really cared – and that they cared specifically for me. And that was meaningful because I was terribly shy and uncomfortable in my own skin. And their kindness was calming. And that left an impression on me.
When you were 10 or 11 or 12 years old, did you feel yourself to be loved? Perhaps you knew yourself to be loved. But did you feel yourself to be loved? Who noticed you? Who cared?
In 7th grade, I was really into music. I was just learning to play the drums and guitar. And I discovered I could sing. My dad bought me this really old electric guitar for 5 bucks. It had the most grungy sound. And someone from church found out I sang and played (a little). So, I was invited to sing at the Wed. p.m. prayer meeting. I could barely play 3 chords. But my mom found an old song book with guitar chord charts. And the only song I recognized and that had chords that I could play, was the old gospel song, Softly and Tenderly. So into this prayer meeting, I come with my amp and $5 electric guitar. And in front of this group of adults, I sing (strum) “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling to you and to me.” The incongruence of the lyrics of that song and the sound of that guitar is painful – and comical. But here’s what stays with me. Nobody - NOBODY ever said a negative thing to me. I don’t know if our pastor got any backlash for it. I don’t know if our pastor dished out any backlash to the person who asked me to sing. But having now been a pastor for almost 150 years, I have heard, O, a few thousand complaints. And to think back to those generous-hearted, longsuffering saints, and that they never said a disparaging thing to me, is unreal. It left an impression on me.
Do you remember when you began to give serious thought to eternal things? As you were turning over the puzzle pieces of gospel truth, did you have patient, generous-hearted people nudging you toward Jesus?
In 9th grade, I went with a busload of teenagers to Dallas, TX, for a Jesus festival. It was called Explo 72. I would have never gone to something like this, except that is was my high school track coach that was leading the trip. He also happened to be a volunteer youth leader in our church. And he put the “full court press on me to go.” He dogged me. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. And so I went. Explo 72 was a kind of Christian Woodstock. Big stadium. Rock music. It was hot and sweaty. That part was awesome. But then they made us go door to door and share the 4 Spiritual Laws with strangers. That was an introvert’s worst nightmare. That, and the fact that I had not experienced “spiritual re-birth” made the door-to-door thing the worst experience of my life. But something was happening in me. I was affected. I was being affected. At least I was affected enough to feel like some things needed to change. But I was not affected enough to really take hold of Jesus.
But that same year the Jesus Movement – the spiritual awakening of the 1970’s - hit our little town. Up till then, my only spiritual concern was NOT going to hell, and NOT being “left behind.” Those things worried me. But as I soon came to realize, you don’t need to experience “new birth” to be afraid of hell. You don’t need to be “made new” to fear being “left behind.” But you do need to experience new birth to love and long for Jesus. You do need your heart to be made new to hunger and thirst for the kind joy and spiritual nourishment you can only get in God’s Word. You do need to be born again before you will bow down and say, “Oh Lord of hosts, you are my King and my God!”
And when I saw friends repenting of sins, (sins, that in my mind were way worse than my sins) and falling in love with Jesus, it provoked me. I realized my spirituality was nothing but vain, self-righteous moralism. I was a nice kid going to hell. And it unsettled me. But my heart was coming alive to God. I experienced an appetite for God in the Bible. I began reading it every night. And as Ps. 1 says, I was becoming a “happy man.” I went to church on Sunday morning. I went to a Bible Study my track coach led on Sunday nights. I went to a Bible Study my pastor led on Wed. mornings before school started. It was called “Released Time.” This will blow your minds, but the public school used to delay the start of the day on Wed. mornings so that students could gather at their churches for time in God’s Word. And through it all, my heart was being drawn somewhere. Like the composer of Ps. 84, my desires were going to where God is.
How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD.
—Psalm 84:1-2
And loved ones, listen. The reason so many of us, in those days, felt that gravitational pull toward God, is because our hearts are not at home until our hearts find their home in God. Our hearts are not happy until they are happy in the Lord. Blaise Pascal, that French mathematician/philosopher, who said, “All men seek happiness. This is without exception.” He also said, “There once was in man a true happiness of which now remains to him only the empty trace, which he in vain tries to fill from his surroundings, seeking from things absent the help he does not obtain in things present. But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself” (Blaise Pascal).
Yes. Everyone seeks happiness. And the longing we all feel for enduring joy, in itself, is not immoral. That hunger was placed in us by God Himself. Ecc. 3:11 says, “He (God) has put eternity into man’s heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).
And that’s why –
Our Hearts Are Not at Home Until Our Hearts Find Their Home in God
By the spring of my Sr. year in HS, my heart had finally found its home in God through Christ. And I was baptized on Easter Sunday night, May 14, 1974. Is there anyone here today, whose heart is still restless? Have you found the home your heart has been longing for? Ps. 84:5, “Blessed (happy) are those . . . in whose heart are the highways to Zion . . . (v.10) For (because, to them) a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere” (Psalm 84:5, 10).
Understanding that our hearts are not at home until our hearts find their home in God helps us put the hard parts of our story in perspective so that we can:
Steward our Pain
In vv. 5-8 the Psalmist writes, “Blessed are those whose strength is in you . . . As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs. The early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength. Each one appears before God in Zion. O LORD God of hosts, hear my prayer” (Psalm 84:5-8)
Valley of Baca means “valley of tears” or “valley of weeping.” And since it is tears that make this valley a place of springs, we understand that it probably is a dry place – a desert. And notice, it doesn’t say “IF they go through the Valley of Baca” or “In the event they happen to go through the Valley of Baca.” No. It says, “As they go through the Valley of Baca.” Tears and weeping will come. Pain will eventually and inevitably touch our lives.
But when our orientation is pursuing the joy of God’s presence in all of life, then we’re less likely to waste our pain. That’s because our “valley of weeping” is simply another access point to deeper experience of the presence of God.
I have a sister, her name is Jan, who is 8 years older than me. After Jan was born, my mother was pregnant and went full-term only to give birth to a still-born daughter. Some of you have first-hand experience with how painful and unsettling that would be. After that, my mother was pregnant again, went full-term, and gave birth to a son - who lived for two days, and then died of SIDS. Now I knew of that part of our family story. What didn’t know, until years after I’d been a pastor, is that in her grief, my mother prayed a “Hannah-like” prayer. “God, if you’ll give me son, I’ll dedicate to you and to your service.” And that’s when I came along.
For my mother, the Valley of Baca became another place and occasion to access the Lord of Hosts. Her story, and the darkest chapters of your story, only make sense when we remember that the greatest pain in the universe was suffered by Jesus as he endured God’s wrath for our sins. And that suffering was the only way, the necessary way for us to “appear before God -holy and accepted by God - in Zion.
Loved ones, what griefs do you still carry with you? What griefs do you still need to embrace as an occasion to draw nearer to God? What pains mark your story that God means for you to find your strength, your help, your hope in Him?
Psalm 84 is what is referred to, by OT scholars, as a “communal” Psalm. It would have been sung as the people of God drew near, together, to the presence of God. And in our English Bibles, there is a title or heading that says the composition of this Psalm is attributed to “the Sons of Korah.”
Now the story of Korah is a hurtful one. God had called and anointed Moses as leader of the people of Israel. But this fellow Korah was a chronic pain in Moses’ neck. He opposed Moses. He criticized Moses. He grumbled, privately and complained, publicly about Moses.
And when God had completed the work he wanted to do in Moses, through the pain caused by Korah, God said, “Ok. My purpose in and through you is done.” And according to Num. 16, the ground opened and swallowed up Korah, and Korah was not seen or heard from again. That’s the kind thing that would leave an impression on you. God revealed His power and His presence and His justice. And he poured out His wrath on a grumbler in a tangible way for all to see, and none to forget.
But what is intended to be even more unforgettable is that God also made His power and presence manifest by showing unspeakable mercy, and by saving the sons of Korah from his wrath. And so, through the generations, every time God’s people gathered, to seek God’s presence together, they sang together communal songs such as Ps. 84. And when they sang this Psalm and saw the heading “A Psalm of the Sons of Korah” it was a reminder of how God had saved those who had written this Psalm from His wrath.
Loved ones, God saved them from His wrath. A mediator stood between them and God’s wrath. And every time they sang this Psalm, they would see that name – “The sons of Korah.” And they would be reminded how God had removed their shame and had purchased their access into His lovely and most desirable dwelling place. And they could sing together how the Lord God is a sun and a shield. They could sing how the Lord bestows favor and honor. And they would come to the line in v. 9, “Behold our shield, O God. Look on the face of your anointed” (Psalm 84:9).
“As you, O God, hear our songs, as you hear our prayers, as we cry to you, we know we have a shield. We have a mediator. Behold our shield. Look at our shield. Look on the face of your anointed. Our sins are on our shield. Our shame is on your anointed. And now all we know is favor and honor.”
And they would be affected by God’s grace and mercy again and again and again. That Gospel truth brought them all the way home.
The Gospel Brings Us All the Way Home
Just as the gospel of a mediator, a shield, who is the Christ was how God drew the first singers of this Ps. into a Gospel community, it still does so to this day. The same mediator who saved the sons of Korah, was their mediator, and who is our mediator – the Lord Jesus, the anointed one, the Christ. And by faith in His sin-atoning death on the cross, he can and will bring you all the way home. He is the Savior by whom and through whom our hearts find their home in God.
Friends, the reality of participation in this Gospel-begotten church, is a heart and soul sustaining gift for us, no matter how confusing our suffering, no matter how wearying our desert, no matter how earth-shaking the changes have been. “No good thing do you, O God, withhold from those who are joined, by faith, to your anointed One. O Lord of Hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in You!” Let’s pray.