REMEMBER PSALM 119? At 176 verses, it’s the longest of the psalms by far, well over twice the length of the next longest psalm (Psalm 78, which has a “mere” 72 verses). In previous posts, I sketched out the poetic artistry that makes this psalm special. It was written to sing the praises of Torah, the Hebrew word for God’s “law” or “instruction.” But it does this in a uniquely complex way.

The poet has a monumental task: write a psalm made up of 22 stanzas, one stanza for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Each stanza must be eight lines long, and each line must begin with that stanza’s letter. Thus, in the first stanza, which is for the letter aleph, all eight lines of the stanza must begin with aleph, and so on for the whole alphabet. Moreover, instead of using the word Torah or “law” over and over throughout the psalm, the psalmist employs eight synonyms — like “word,” “judgment,” or “statute” — which are sprinkled fairly evenly throughout the composition.

Why such a complicated structure? It’s not to show the psalmist’s cleverness (though some kind of poetry prize might be richly deserved!). Using the whole alphabet in such a thorough way is meant to convey the completeness and perfection of Torah, a theme which then also plays out through the psalmist’s words. That perfection in turn reflects the incomparability of God. Listen, for example, to the four verses that form the beginning and end of the twelfth stanza, for the Hebrew letter lamedh:

Your word, LORD, is eternal;
    it stands firm in the heavens.
Your faithfulness continues through all generations;
    you established the earth, and it endures.
Your laws endure to this day,
    for all things serve you.
. . . . .
To all perfection I see a limit,
    but your commands are boundless. (Ps 119:89-91, 96, NIV)

The psalmist uses three of the eight synonyms here: word, laws, and commands. God’s word is eternal, as rock solid as the earth itself. His laws endure. And while all earthly perfections may have their limit, God’s commands do not; they are “boundless.” All of this reflects the one who created and rules all, the one whose faithfulness is forever.

But between these bookends, a block of four verses tells of the psalmist’s troubles:

If your law had not been my delight,
    I would have perished in my affliction.
I will never forget your precepts,
    for by them you have preserved my life.
Save me, for I am yours;
    I have sought out your precepts.
The wicked are waiting to destroy me,
    but I will ponder your statutes. (vss. 92-95)

This is a generic description of the suffering and persecution of the righteous by the “wicked,” a term used throughout the Psalms — indeed, right from the very first verse of the Psalter! — to speak of those who don’t walk in God’s ways. Though the words are written as a personal prayer, the psalmist speaks on behalf of all who strive to be faithful to Torah, praying for God to recognize that faithfulness and rescue his persecuted people.

But the prayer for salvation doesn’t come first. The psalmist begins instead by speaking of a deep delight in God’s law — an idea that may sound a bit odd to those of us who think of the Law as a set of rules to be obeyed whether we want to or not. Remember, Torah doesn’t just refer to God’s commands; in its broadest sense, it refers to all of God’s instruction in Scripture, including the lessons to be learned from the stories of God’s covenant faithfulness to Noah, to Abraham, to Jacob, to Moses, and many, many more.

The psalmist, in other words, isn’t just asking to be saved as a reward for diligently following the rules. Rather, the psalmist loves all of Torah, including the stories of the goodness and mercy of God, and trusts that he will continue to be the God whom the stories describe.

The persecution is severe; the psalmist speaks of “perishing.” Does that mean that the wicked are literally threatening the life of the righteous? Or is it just a metaphor for a desperate situation that makes it feel like the end is near? Likely, it’s the latter — but that’s not the point. What matters is that the faithful are kept alive through their delight in Torah, not just by the acts of salvation for which they pray. To the psalmist, therefore, and to all the faithful, Torah is a source of hope in the face of affliction.

Think about what this means for us, who now have both the Old and New Testaments in which to delight. Are there rules to be obeyed? Yes, but the Bible is not just a source of religious rules. Are there moral principles to be learned? Absolutely. But the Bible is not just a source of ethical instruction either.

God’s word is a word of hope. Through the wisdom it teaches and the stories it tells, we learn who God is and always will be. We learn of God’s faithfulness and mercy. And the more we delight in that teaching, the more we seek out and remember what God wants us to learn, the more our vision widens, enabling us to see beyond the troubles of the moment, however severe they may be.

We don’t just read the Bible because that’s what “good” Christians are supposed to do. We read it because in and through it we find God, and God finds us. In and through it we find life and hope in the face of all the troubles that come from living as broken people in a broken world.

May all of us take a cure from the psalmist, and learn what it means to delight in God’s word. And through that word, let us find hope in the faithfulness of God.