“You give them drink from the river of Your delights.”
— Psalm 36:8
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A River Through the Chaos
John Paton knew what it was like to have a musket pointed at his head.
Often.
In the 1800s, John Paton crossed the world to live among the people of the South Pacific islands we now call Vanuatu and tell them about Jesus.
Violence could erupt with almost no warning. What makes his stories especially unsettling is that some of the same men threatening his life could, at other times, be his neighbours, friends, and even attend their church meetings.
Sometimes Paton ran directly toward the man threatening him, wrapped his arms around him, and held on until the man’s anger cooled. Often he grabbed the barrel of a musket and shoved it toward the sky, pleading while struggling to keep the gun from firing.
And sometimes there was absolutely nothing he could do. No defensive move.
He simply stood still and prayed.
Paton was courageous. But not fearless.
He wrote:
“Our hearts sometimes trembled in the presence of imminent death and sank within us, [yet] we stood fearless in their presence, and left all results in the hands of Jesus.”
Paton did what he could. Then he left the results with Jesus.
I have been thinking about that as I memorized Psalm 36. Because Psalm 36 does not begin beside peaceful waters. It begins in the dark.
John G. Paton repeatedly faced violence during his years as a missionary in the New Hebrides, now known as Vanuatu. His autobiography has been accompanying my reading of Psalm 36 this week. Click the photo above to see the Amazon.com USA Kindle edition.
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When Our World Gets Small
Psalm 36 opens with a disturbing portrait of someone being reshaped by evil.
There is no fear of God before his eyes.
Instead,
“He flatters himself in his own eyes…”
He has become very good at explaining himself to himself.
David’s description is more unsettling than simply reading about a bad person.
Because I know how easily my world can shrink too. Someone at church makes a decision I think is wrong. A trusted team member disappoints me. A leader behaves poorly.
At first, I may react to something genuinely wrong.
But when things get quiet, I notice how easily I rehearse the argument.
Slowly, that person may begin occupying more of my imagination than God does.
The problem may be real. I may even be right. But something is happening to me.
It is possible to be right about what is wrong—and still let it reshape us in the wrong direction.
Then David Looks Up
After four verses of this cramped human world, the Psalm suddenly explodes open.
“Your mercy, LORD, extends to the heavens, Your faithfulness reaches to the skies. Your righteousness is like the mountains of God; Your judgments are like a great deep.”
The person doing wrong has not disappeared. The situation has not magically resolved itself.
But suddenly David’s horizon fills with something larger.
David discovers:
“In Your light we see light.”
Earlier, Psalm 36 described a person trapped inside his own way of seeing. Now David is standing in the light of God.
I feel the contrast running through the whole Psalm.
One world keeps collapsing inward. The other keeps opening.
The people doing wrong are not big enough to fill my horizon.
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We Don’t Have to Become What We Oppose
David knew dangerous people.
Saul tried repeatedly to kill him. Sometimes David ran. Or hid. Or confronted. Or kept his distance for a season. But David refused to let Saul determine what kind of man David would become. And when Saul eventually died, David grieved.
Jesus takes this even further.
Matthew tells us about a ruler who held a banquet. It was a feast shaped by pride, image, political pressure, and a rash promise. By the end of the banquet, John the Baptist’s head had been carried into the room on a platter. When Jesus heard what had happened, He withdrew by boat to a solitary place.
But the crowds followed Him.
“He had compassion on them and healed their sick.”
And then, in the wilderness, Jesus hosted a very different meal. He fed them.
Matthew has just taken us from one meal to another.
At Herod’s feast, power protects itself, and somebody dies. At Jesus’ feast, compassion pours itself out, and thousands eat.
Herod creates more death. Jesus keeps creating life.
Jesus did not answer Herod by becoming more like Herod. He answered a kingdom of death by advancing the Kingdom of God.
Healing. Feeding. Restoring. Giving life. ________________________________________
What Are We Drinking From?
David pictures people taking refuge beneath God’s wings, and finding abundance there.
“The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of Your wings. They drink their fill of the abundance of Your house; And You give them drink from the river of Your delights. For the fountain of life is with You; In Your light we see light.”
Hiding inside that phrase “river of Your delights” is an intriguing Hebrew echo.
I love seeing this in my Hebrew study app. Under “delights” sitsʿeden, the same word-family as Eden.
Anyone steeped in Israel’s Scriptures knows another story of God’s abundance.
Life in God’s presence. Provision for people and animals. A river flowing out of Eden, watering the garden and then flowing outward.
Later, Ezekiel sees water flowing from God’s dwelling place into wasteland. Wherever the river goes, things come alive.
And at the far end of the biblical story, John sees the river of the water of life flowing from the throne of God, with the tree of life beside it and healing for the nations.
There is a river running through the biblical story.
Psalm 36 suggests a question I haven’t been able to shake: What am I drinking from while I fight what is wrong?
Because we live beside a stream of voices telling us what is wrong.
Church controversy. Family grievances. Political outrage. Suspicion. Fear.
Some of those streams may contain information I need.
But if I drink there all day, I should not be surprised when it begins leaking out of me.
What we take in repeatedly becomes part of what we carry.
At first, perhaps only the people closest to us notice.
But given enough time, resentment, suspicion, and fear can fill a room before we have said much of anything.
Paul says our lives carry an aroma. Jesus says our words overflow from what fills the heart.
We may smile politely, say all the right things, and still carry resentment into the room.
Or we can drink deeply from another source.
Refuge. Abundance. Delight. Life. Light.
The river is flowing while the chaos is still happening.
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Love Keeps Creating Life
Loving people does not mean pretending evil does not exist.
Paton grabbed gun barrels. David fled from Saul. Jesus healed people and stood up for the underdogs.
Love can tell the truth, establish boundaries, protect the vulnerable, challenge decisions, or refuse to cooperate with certain practices.
But none of that requires contempt.
There is an important difference between saying,
“What you are doing is wrong.”
and saying,
“You are an idiot.”
Because the person across from me bears the image of God.
We can fight what destroys life while continuing to become people who give life.
That may require more courage than anger ever did.
Which is why the gift of the Holy Spirit matters so much. We need more than good intentions to live this way.
Another Full-on Family Member
Yesterday our family received a particularly beautiful example of God’s gift of delight.
Our fourth grandchild was born.
At the moment, she has absolutely no idea which family she has landed in.
She will hopefully grow up assuming that being surrounded by a large, loving clan is perfectly normal.
I trust she will…
Baby Margaret Hazel Whitton has no idea what family she landed in, but she is a full-on member, as much as anyone else in the room.
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And she will learn other things from us too.
She will watch how the adults around her respond when we are afraid. She will hear how we talk about people who disappoint us. She will notice what happens when Christians disagree. She will learn whether we need enemies in order to know who we are.
The world she is entering will give her plenty of reasons to be angry.
Plenty of voices will tell her whom to fear. Whom to blame. Whom to despise.
We hope to help her recognize evil without drinking it in. To show her courage without contempt. Truth without hatred. Boundaries without dehumanizing people.
And when the world gets frighteningly small, we hope to teach her where to look:
The wings of God. The abundance of His house. The fountain of life. God’s river of delights.
We will do everything we can to show these next generations where to drink.
Three Questions I Am Carrying From Psalm 36
1. What is happening inside me?
While I am watching someone else’s choices, am I paying attention to what my response is doing to me?
2. What am I drinking from?
What is shaping my imagination, emotions, conversations, and view of other people?
3. Can I resist what is wrong without becoming what I oppose?
Can I tell the truth, establish boundaries, protect what is good—and still remember whose image the person across from me bears?
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A Prayer
Lord Jesus,
When something is wrong, Give us courage to name it.
When someone is being harmed, Give us courage to act.
But guard our hearts. Guard our eyes.
When we are right, Keep us from becoming self-righteous.
When we are wrong, Keep us teachable.
Teach us to fight what destroys life Without despising the people You made.
When others attempt to create fear, Make us people who create peace.
Where there is hurt, Teach us to heal.
Where there is hunger, Teach us to feed.
Where there is death, Teach us to keep choosing life.
Teach us to do what belongs to us, And leave the results in Your hands.
While the chaos is still happening, Lead us beneath Your wings.
Feed us from Your abundance. Teach us to drink deeply From the river of Your delights.
And help the next generations Find the river too.
Prolong Your mercy To those who love You.
Amen.
With gratitude,
Rick and Deanna
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References
John G. Paton quotation from John G. Paton, Porirua Publishing, Kindle edition, Second Part, Chap. 6, para. 10.
Scripture quotations are from the NASB 2020 unless otherwise noted.
