Psalm 35:11-14
Malicious witnesses rise up;
they ask me of things that I do not know.
They repay me evil for good;
my soul is bereft.
But I, when they were sick—
I wore sackcloth;
I afflicted myself with fasting;
I prayed with head bowed on my chest.
I went about as though I grieved
for my friend or my brother;
as one who laments his mother,
I bowed down in mourning.
...............
they ask me of things that I do not know.
They repay me evil for good;
my soul is bereft.
But I, when they were sick—
I wore sackcloth;
I afflicted myself with fasting;
I prayed with head bowed on my chest.
I went about as though I grieved
for my friend or my brother;
as one who laments his mother,
I bowed down in mourning.
...............
In the TV series House of Cards, congressman Frank Underwood is a picture of vengeance. After losing a promised place in the new president's cabinet, he concocts an elaborate plan to systematically sabotage his political enemies. He feeds half-truths to the press. He blackmails characters into doing his dark errands. He feins humility to manipulate, and he preys on the humility of others. All for power, all for winning, all for the feeling of control and superiority over others.
There is a strain of vengeful confidence that runs throughout the Psalms, especially in the words of David, who frequently calls down curses upon his enemies. The first ten verses of Psalm 35 include such a strain, complete with passionate appeal, a list of reasons, and even a promise to rejoice when destruction finally comes upon his foes. But then, verse 11 begins a very different tone:
Malicious witnesses rise up;
they ask me of things that I do not know.
They repay me evil for good;
my soul is bereft.
But I, when they were sick—
I wore sackcloth;
I afflicted myself with fasting;
I prayed with head bowed on my chest.
I went about as though I grieved
for my friend or my brother;
as one who laments his mother,
I bowed down in mourning.
they ask me of things that I do not know.
They repay me evil for good;
my soul is bereft.
But I, when they were sick—
I wore sackcloth;
I afflicted myself with fasting;
I prayed with head bowed on my chest.
I went about as though I grieved
for my friend or my brother;
as one who laments his mother,
I bowed down in mourning.
We were just settling in to a nice cozy bout of righteous indignation, when all of a sudden, the writer switches gears and starts grieving for his enemies, like one would mourn for a lost loved one. The wells of justice were about to brim over with acts of revenge, but then tender compassion emerged from the very same heart. What changed?
I'd like to consider that David's prayer for swift destruction and his prayer of mourning and grief are one and the same. They occur together here, as if we should not be at all surprised by this blending of justice and mercy, of fury and tenderness. I'd like to argue that we must pray this way as well, because it is the very heartbeat of our perfectly just and loving Father in Heaven.
In Genesis 6, we see one of the greatest illustrations of this holy heart. At the moment of mankind's greatest wickedness and God's most sweeping sentence of judgment in the floodwaters, there is an ache. The heartache of a loving and grieving father:
The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Lord regretted that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the Lord said, “I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the land, man and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.” (Genesis 6:5-7)
Now, it is very clear from several passages that God holds the role of judge in a way that we are not exactly to emulate. Jesus modeled compassion and mercy in the face of injustice, and he taught us to likewise love our enemies. Paul summed up this Christlike ethic with these penetrating words to the Roman church:
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:14-21)
So, if we cannot avenge ourselves, how can we apply the imprecatory tone of Psalm 35 to our own lives? Not by our judgment or vengeful actions, but instead by our prayers. David is modeling a life of honest prayer in which God welcomes our desperate cries for justice, while simultaneously softening our hearts to even plead on behalf of those who threaten and hurt us. Again, Jesus models this on the cross, praying his enemies would find forgiveness, even as they are watching him be executed. What love! What mysterious mercy in the face of hatred!
Lord, grant me the honesty and trust to bring my cries for justice to you. Vengeance belongs to you, and yet you turn even that into moments of mercy. Let my indignation more easily shift to grief and mourning even for my enemies and those I don't like or care for. Let me plead for them like they were my own family. For you have pleaded for me in just the same way.
