Psalm 14

Read: Psalm 14

Introduction

Have you ever watched someone do something so reckless, so obviously self-destructive, that all you could do was shake your head and say, “Foolish”? I’m not talking about a silly mistake or a momentary lapse in judgment. I’m talking about that stubborn refusal to face reality—the kind that says, “I know what I’m doing,” when everyone around knows it’s not true.

Psalm 14 begins with just that kind of portrait: “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” And from there, it paints a picture of humanity that is both sobering and startling.

But before we recoil too quickly and say, “Well, that’s not me,” let’s listen closely—because this isn’t just about them. This is about us. Psalm 14 is a mirror. And like many mirrors in Scripture, it doesn’t flatter—it tells the truth. But thankfully, it also points to hope. It points to salvation.

Here’s something fascinating: Psalm 14 is repeated almost word-for-word in Psalm 53. That’s rare. And it doesn’t stop there. The apostle Paul, when explaining the spiritual condition of the human race in Romans 3, quotes directly from this psalm. When God says something once, we listen. When He says it twice, we really listen. But three times? That’s a divine wake-up call. The Holy Spirit wants us to understand something deeply essential here. 

And I want to begin by saying that Psalm 14 is a Psalm about atheism.

Not merely theoretical atheism, but practical atheism.

Practical atheism isn’t just found in the ivory towers of universities or on the pages of angry books about religion. It lives much closer to home. You see, you can say with your mouth, “I believe in God,” and still live most of your life as if He’s not really there. That’s practical atheism. It happens when we make big decisions without prayer, when we treat worship as optional, or when we go days—or weeks—without opening our Bibles. It shows up when we chase success or comfort or reputation with more energy than we pursue holiness. It’s there when we react to hardship not with trust and prayer, but with bitterness or self-reliance. We may never say, “There is no God,” but in those moments, we are living like He’s absent, uninterested, or unimportant.

One author defined “practical atheism” as:  “holding an intellectual commitment to belief in God but thinking, feeling, and behaving as if there were no God”. The apostle Paul defined it when he stated:  “They profess to know God, but they deny him by their works. They are detestable, disobedient, unfit for any good work.” (Titus 1:16).

Let me be a little more specific. If you wake up in the morning, check your email, pour your coffee, rush into the tasks of the day, and never once pause to thank God or seek His presence—you’re practicing atheism, even if you wouldn’t call it that. When conflict arises in your family or workplace and you respond with manipulation or resentment rather than turning to God in prayer, that’s practical atheism. When you carry guilt for weeks instead of bringing it to the cross of Christ, or when you worry as if God were powerless to help—you are living, in that moment, as if God isn’t real or trustworthy.

And yet, the invitation of Psalm 14 is not condemnation but awakening. It’s God’s loving call to stop living like orphans and start living like children—children who know that their Father is near, attentive, and full of grace.

Let’s look at Psalm 14

When the psalmist calls someone a “fool,” he doesn’t mean they’re unintelligent or uneducated. The Hebrew word is nabel, which carries a sense of moral stubbornness—willful ignorance. This fool isn’t simply confused. He’s defiant. He says in his heart—not necessarily with his mouth or his social media profile, but deep in the private places of thought—“No God.” Not “I’m not sure if there’s a God,” but “I don’t want there to be a God. Not for me.”

That’s not just theoretical atheism. That’s practical atheism—living as if God doesn’t exist, even if you pay Him lip service in public. The psalmist is describing a life that cuts God out of the picture, not out of reason, but out of desire. Paul picks up on this in Romans 1. He explains that people suppress the truth about God—not because they haven’t seen enough evidence, but because they don’t want God to be there. He’s too holy. Too sovereign. Too righteous. And so, they push Him away.

But here’s the tragedy: when we push God away, we don’t get freedom—we get corruption. That’s what Psalm 14 shows us. “They are corrupt, their deeds are vile; there is no one who does good.” That’s not an exaggeration. That’s divine diagnosis.

This isn’t just about the militant atheist shaking his fist at the sky. It’s about every heart that tries to live without God. The psalm pulls the camera back, and we see the scope: “The Lord looks down from heaven on the children of man to see if there are any who understand, any who seek God… All have turned aside.” God peers into the human heart—and what He sees is not a pretty picture. Not even one seeks Him. Not even one.

That includes you and me.

We like to draw lines, don’t we? “Well sure, there are some really wicked people out there, but I’m not like them.” But Psalm 14 won’t let us do that. The “fool” of Psalm 14 is the face of humanity apart from grace.

And yet, God looks…

He bends down. He sees. And He speaks.

Now… This moment—God looking down—should remind us of other parts of Scripture. When the people were building the Tower of Babel in defiance of God, He “came down” to see their rebellion. When the world was full of violence before the flood, God looked and saw every intention of the human heart was only evil continually.

And here again in Psalm 14, God surveys the earth. And what does He find?

No understanding. No seeking. No goodness. Only corruption. From top to bottom.

That’s hard to hear. But it’s the truth. And it’s meant to drive us not to despair, but to dependence. You see, when Scripture shows us the depth of our need, it’s always so that we might run to the depth of God’s grace. When we finally stop pretending that we are good, wise, and godly on our own, we are finally ready to be rescued.

Apart from God’s mercy, we are what Charles Spurgeon once called “a night without a star, a desert without an oasis, a hell without a bottom.” That’s who we are… unless God acts.

Verses 4 through 6 shift the focus

Now we see what the life of this fool looks like. He consumes others like bread—using, exploiting, devouring people for his own ends. He doesn’t call on the Lord. He sees the vulnerable as obstacles, not neighbors. But then, something surprising happens: fear.

“There they are,” the psalmist says, “overwhelmed with dread.” But the dread doesn’t come from a threat. It doesn’t come from judgment falling from the sky. It comes from within. Psalm 53, which repeats this line, adds something important: “where there was nothing to dread.”

You see, God has so made the world—and our hearts—that even the most hardened fool has moments of quiet terror. In the dead of night. In the wake of failure. In the mirror. There is a dread that creeps in—“What if there is a God? What if I am guilty?”

This dread is a gift. It’s a warning light flashing on the dashboard of the soul. It’s the mercy of God refusing to let us settle in our sin.

But then, in verse 6, we see a contrast.

The fool oppresses the poor, but “the Lord is their refuge.” God is not absent. He is not ignoring the cries of the broken. He is with His people. He is a shelter for those who take refuge in Him.

That’s the turning point.

The psalm ends not with despair, but with hope: “Oh, that salvation for Israel would come out of Zion!” And we know how that cry is ultimately answered. Salvation has come—from Zion, yes, but more specifically, from a hill just outside the city walls. On a cross. In a body. With a name: Jesus.

Jesus is the answer to Psalm 14.

Jesus is the wisdom of God for fools like us. The righteousness of God for sinners like us. The refuge of God for the poor and the weary and the seeking.

Paul says it this way in 1 Corinthians: “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise… And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption.”

There is a ship of fools, friends—and we were on it. But Jesus climbed aboard. And instead of abandoning us, He took the full weight of our sin. He bore our foolishness. He died our death. And now, He offers us His wisdom, His righteousness, His eternal refuge.

Psalm 14 ends with rejoicing.

“When the Lord restores the fortunes of His people, let Jacob rejoice and Israel be glad!”

That’s not a wistful wish. That’s a sure promise.

The God who sees our folly is the same God who comes to rescue us. He doesn’t wait for us to wise up. He breaks in with grace. He makes foolish hearts wise. He turns rebels into worshipers. He plants joy where there once was dread.

Friends, Psalm 14 is not here to make us despair—it’s here to wake us up and point us to the only refuge that will hold. Don’t settle for living as though God isn’t there. Don’t fall into the quiet habit of practical atheism, where He is in your creed but not in your calendar, in your beliefs but not in your decisions. Instead, let the truth of God’s presence shape your Monday morning as much as your Sunday worship. Look to Christ—trust Him, follow Him, walk with Him. He is the wisdom of God for fools like us, the Savior who turns wandering hearts into worshiping hearts.

Prayer

Gracious and merciful God,

You are the God who sees us as we truly are—foolish, wandering, corrupt—and yet, You are also the God who does not turn away. Instead, You draw near. You bend down from heaven to look upon the children of man, and in Your compassion, You reach out with saving grace.

Lord, we confess that far too often, we have lived as if You were not there. We have trusted in our own strength, sought our own way, and turned our hearts away from You. Forgive us. Rescue us from our practical atheism, and turn our hearts again to You.

Thank You for the gift of Your Word that tells the truth about our condition but also points us to the hope of salvation. Thank You for Jesus Christ, who became wisdom for us—our righteousness, our holiness, and our redemption. In Him, we see that there is hope even for fools like us. In Him, we find the refuge our souls so desperately need.

So now, Father, teach us to walk not in the way of the fool, but in the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of true wisdom. Help us to live each day in joyful dependence on You, to call upon Your name, and to take refuge in Your grace. And as You restore Your people, give us hearts that rejoice and mouths that are glad.

We ask this in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ,

Amen.