AS I SUGGESTED in an earlier episode, Christians are supposed to be nice people, polite people, loving people — or so many of us have been taught, directly or indirectly. We mind our manners and watch our words, lest we make someone uncomfortable with our lack of control. If we’re angry, we keep it to ourselves, even if it means the anger festers. And when we come together in worship, our songs are all about gratitude and praise. We don’t spend that time cursing our enemies, and we certainly don’t set our resentment to music. A choir of angry, vengeful voices? No way. Didn’t our parents teach us better than that?

But then we come across songs like Psalm 109, the bulk of which is devoted to the psalmist praying for the utter destruction of the person who is unjustly persecuting him. The heading of the psalm attributes it to the tradition of David, and indicates that it’s for “the director of music.” What is a choir director supposed to do with a psalm like that? I’m pretty sure you won’t hear it sung in a church anytime soon.

Psalm 109 is one of the best examples of what is known as an imprecatory psalm, that is, a psalm of cursing — and don’t worry, these psalms are a distinct minority. But they do, for that reason, stand out from the rest.

By this point in our study of the psalms, the idea of cursing should not be a new one. We’ve seen it, for example, in Psalm 139. And there’s a brief instance of it at the end of Psalm 104. Both of these psalms are marked as songs of David for the director of music. In Psalm 104, you may remember, the psalmist goes on for 34 verses marveling at and rejoicing in God’s creation and its creator. The psalmist ends by praying that his words would be pleasing to God — and then immediately adds this: “But may sinners vanish from the earth and the wicked be no more” (vs. 35, NIV). Are those words pleasing to God, or is the psalmist self-deluded? And after that brief rant, there’s nothing left to the psalm but “Praise the LORD” and “Hallelujah.” Nice.

If those few angry words from Psalm 104 make you uncomfortable, Psalm 109 is really going to make you squirm.

The frame of Psalm 109 seems familiar enough. As we see throughout the many laments in the Psalter, the psalmist is reaching out to God for help in the midst of deep trouble. “My God, whom I praise,” the psalmist begins in verse 1, “do not remain silent.” The psalm then ends 30 verses later on a note of confident hope:

With my mouth I will greatly extol the Lord;
    in the great throng of worshipers I will praise him.
For he stands at the right hand of the needy,
    to save their lives from those who would condemn them. (vss. 30-31)

Because God is merciful and righteous, defending and saving those who are needy and oppressed, the psalmist is confident that his prayer for help will be answered. He envisions the day in which he will be able to stand before the congregation to give joyful, grateful testimony to the goodness of God.

But why does the psalmist need help? That word “condemn” gives us a clue. It can refer to the righteous judgment of God, and in that context, doesn’t necessarily mean condemnation. But here it refers to the un-righteous, unjust condemnation of the psalmist by an accuser who is bearing false witness against him.

We see this early on in the psalm. After reaching out to God for help in the first verse, the psalmist immediately lays out his complaint:

…for people who are wicked and deceitful
    have opened their mouths against me;
    they have spoken against me with lying tongues.
With words of hatred they surround me;
    they attack me without cause.
In return for my friendship they accuse me,
    but I am a man of prayer.
They repay me evil for good,
    and hatred for my friendship. (vss. 2-5)

The psalmist clearly portrays himself as the victim of an ongoing injustice. We might envision him as standing accused in a court of law for a crime he didn’t commit. For whatever reason, his accuser or accusers have it out for him and will say anything, tell any lie, to see him condemned. The psalmist complains to God that he’s done nothing to deserve this. He’s been a friend to these people, but they’ve repaid him with hatred; he’s shown them good, and they’ve responded with evil.

That may sound a little self-righteous, and perhaps it is. If we read it that way, then even the phrase “but I am a man of prayer” may sound prideful. But it’s better, I think, to take the psalmist at his word. Later verses, for example, suggest that in response to his unjust situation, he’s gone to God not only in prayer but in fasting:

For I am poor and needy,
    and my heart is wounded within me.
I fade away like an evening shadow;
    I am shaken off like a locust.
My knees give way from fasting;
    my body is thin and gaunt.
I am an object of scorn to my accusers;
    when they see me, they shake their heads. (vss. 22-25)

The psalmist has been so diligent, so dedicated to seeking God through fasting that he’s wasted away to a shadow of his former self. And adding insult to injury, this has made him the target of even further mockery by his accusers. I imagine them saying, “What a loser!” as they scornfully shake their heads.

This is a good place to ground what we might do with a psalm such as this. Any of us may have enemies. Any of us may find ourselves accused of something we didn’t do. In such situations, we may be overtaken by feelings of anger, resentment, and a desire for vengeance, making us want to cry out, “Go get ’em, God! Give those liars what they deserve!”

But before we set such words to music and invite others to sing along, we might want to fast and pray first. Have we humbly sought what God thinks of all this? Do we really know that we’re completely innocent in the matter?

It would be good here to reflect again on what we saw in Psalm 139, in which the psalmist expresses hatred toward his enemies and prays for God to slay the wicked. But cursing doesn’t get the last word. Here’s how that psalm famously ends:

Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)

Imprecatory psalms cry out for vindication and justice and, in a sense, give us permission to vent our anger. But before we take license with cursing, we need to ask God to show us any way in which we have given offense and been unjust ourselves.

Even if we don’t begin there, it might be a good place to end.