Psalm 71:4 Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the wicked,
Out of the hand of the unrighteous and cruel man.
Psalm 59:2 Deliver me from the workers of iniquity,
And save me from bloodthirsty men.
Jesus came to break down and eliminate the veil that separated us from the Father. He came with shouts of peace, peace to the people on earth. It is finished. In His redemption of the human race He unleashed the power of Holy Spirit to battle against Satan and those who follow the way of violence. Satan knows that his time will end. God never condones cruelty or violence done in His name and He will not be mocked. What evil men do in the dark, will be brought into the light of His truth. Holy Spirit will direct us and help us to be doers of the Word of God made flesh and not just hearers. Carla
Psalm 140:1-3
1 Deliver me, O Lord, from evil men;
Preserve me from violent men,
2 Who plan evil things in their hearts;
They continually gather together for war.
3 They sharpen their tongues like a serpent;
The poison of asps is under their lips. (NKJV)
The psalmist mentions violent people at several points (verses 1, 4, 11), including their words and schemes.
The Hebrew word used here for wars , milchamah, refers literally to close fighting or struggle, like hand-to-hand combat. Here, it seems to refer metaphorically to arguments and social strife.
They sharpen their tongue as sharp as a snake’s The words of the psalmist’s opponents are compared to poison or venom (chemah in Hebrew). Faithlife Study Bible
David cries out to the Lord for deliverance from the wicked, who continually harm the innocent. The words violent men are repeated in verse 4. The word violent describes people who are harsh and ruthless, who plan the destruction of the people. They are purposefully evil and will be satisfied only if they can participate in the destruction of God’s people. But God is always ready to deliver them from their grasp. The NKJV Study Bible
Psalm 17:13
Arise, O LORD,
Confront him, cast him down;
Deliver my life from the wicked with Your sword,
Psalm 18:48
He delivers me from my enemies.
You also lift me up above those who rise against me;
You have delivered me from the violent man.
Psalm 86:14
O God, the proud have risen against me,
And a mob of violent men have sought my life,
And have not set You before them.
While I sit on the back deck, the sun sets over the Kitsap Peninsula (the expanse of land west of Seattle and Puget Sound). The sky, as if batter poured from a pitcher, turns an effluence of slate blue and vermilion. Spires of hemlock are backlit and silhouetted like hand puppets on an immense screen. I stand for some unknown reason, singing, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog. Was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said, But I helped him a-drink his wine. And he always had some mighty fine wine..." at the top of my lungs, and do a little boogie with my black Lab, Conroy, who hasn't the foggiest idea what's come over me but is a sucker for a party and plays along, nonetheless.
I let the moment melt around me before I gain my composure and give myself some sort of reality check: a quiz requiring justification for what I'm feeling and why. And then it hits me. I can't tell a soul about my dance at twilight without coming face-to-face with who I was pretending not to be and the energy it required to maintain that image.
When I lived in Southern California, I spent three days a month at a Benedictine monastery out in the high desert. It was my periodic trek to a place where I could slow down long enough to pay attention. Truth is, I wanted to learn how to be alone with myself and like it, because I wasn't very good at that. And, I wanted to learn how to be alone with God and like it, because I wasn't very good at that, either.
On one visit, a friend asked one of the monks, "What exactly do you do here?"
"We pray," the monk replied simply.
"No, really," my friend persisted. "I mean besides that. What do you really do?"
"It is enough just to pray," the monk told my friend.
"It is enough," I tell my dog standing on the deck absorbing the summer sky, "just to boogie." Just to boogie under the inexplicable marbled canopy of dusk. Just to feel your lungs swell and your heart flutter. Just to cheer the sun as it sets and not give a damn about some need to fight back the tears, standing spellbound in the salty prism for twilight rainbows.
The permission to embrace this moment.
This day.
To hear, and boogie to, the music of sufficiency and grace.
And speaking of grace, let us not forget:
Empathy matters.
Compassion matters.
And community backbone matters.
Sabbath Moments
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