Sermon Tone Analysis

I know for a fact everyone is not like me.

But I know enough people are like me for what I’m saying to make sense to at least some of you.

I've always been a fearful person.

When I was young that fear manifested itself as timidity.

It wasn’t easy for me to make friends, and conversations with strangers were very difficult.

But for the most part—as long as I kept to myself or to those people I knew really well—it didn’t have much of an impact on my life.

Then when I became an adult, that ingrained fear went to a whole new level.

It started when I got married, because suddenly I had someone else in my life who was counting on me, and who mattered to me.

The thought of anything happening to Loanne was terrifying.

Then we moved to France a year after we got married, and I was surrounded by people I didn’t know, who were speaking a language I didn’t understand, and all of the social fears I thought I had gotten over got much worse.

Then we had a baby, and I found a whole new set of reasons to be afraid, because babies are so insanely fragile.

And so on.

Often when we think of our fears, we think of big, life-changing problems: the loss of a job, or a sudden financial problem, or a serious illness.

But in reality, it’s not just the big things that threaten us: there are millions of dangers surrounding us every day.

We humans, as we saw last week, are fragile, short-lived beings, and threats come at us constantly, from all sides.

is, as Derek Kidner put it, a psalm for danger.

It is a psalm for times of stress, for times of suffering, or for times when we have to confront evil in some way or another.

It is for times which require courage, and it is written to give us the courage we need.

And as a fearful person, I can testify personally that every time I am afraid, it is to that I run.

This psalm has been the single most helpful text in the Bible in helping me fight my fears.

But it’s a challenge for us to read initially, because it doesn’t seem (at least at first glance) to fit our experience.

So in order to really get out of this psalm what we’re meant to, we need to do a couple of things.

We need to look at what the psalm says (and it’s quite simple).

Then we need to take a step back and look at why what it says is difficult for us to accept.

And finally, we need to take a look at how the rest of the Bible informs this psalm, so that we can preach it to ourselves in all honesty when we are afraid.

The psalmist begins with a kind of summary phrase of everything which will follow (v.

1):

Summary phrase: “He”

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

2  I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,

my God, in whom I trust.”

It starts a general statement, as the pronoun “he” in v. 1 suggests—whoever does this can expect this.

So what are we to do, and what can we expect if we do it?

We are to dwell in the shelter of the Most High.

“I”

It’s important to see that right off the bat, he doesn’t talk about seeking shelter, but rather about dwelling in the shelter.

Loanne and I lived in central Florida before coming here.

Every year, for a couple months, there is storm season; once a day, usually a little after noon, there is a massive storm.

It’s bright and sunny, then in the space of about ten minutes the sky goes completely black, and it starts to rain.

It rains enormously, with incredible lightning and thunder in very close proximity, for about a half hour, after which the skies clear as quickly as they filled with clouds, and the sun comes back out again.

So at least once a day (particularly if you have a job which requires you to be outside, like I did), you have to run to find shelter from the storm.

You get indoors however you can, to wait the storm out, then when everything’s calm again, you continue on with your life.

This is not the kind of shelter he’s talking about.

Our shelter is not a shelter we come into when we need it, but a shelter in which we dwell.

It is those who live in the shelter of the Most High who are constantly under his protection.

So after the psalmist makes this general statement, he appropriates it for himself, turning the “he” to “I”:

2  I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,

my God, in whom I trust.”

So it’s no longer general.

He says, “God is like this, and whoever dwells in his shelter is protected.

So I will say, ‘You are my protection.

I trust in you.’”

Next, the psalmist spells out for all of us just how all-encompassing God’s protection is for his people.

He changes the “I” to “you”, and that “you” is singular throughout the psalm.

He’s not talking generally, to a body of people.

He’s speaking personally, to you.

V. 3:

my God, in whom I trust.”

“You” - singular

3  For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler

and from the deadly pestilence.

4  He will cover you with his pinions,

and under his wings you will find refuge;

his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

5  You will not fear the terror of the night,

nor the arrow that flies by day,

6  nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,

nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.

Look at the dangers he lists: they cover a wide range of possibilities.

There are dangers from outside, that you can see coming: the snare of the fowler, the arrow that flies by day, the destruction that wastes at noonday.

And there are dangers that creep up on you, that no one—no matter how strong—can protect themselves from: the deadly pestilence, the terror of the night, the pestilence that stalks in darkness.

No matter how big or small or subtle or obvious the threat is, the message is simple: God will protect you from it.

And his protection is all-encompassing: it is both warm (like a mother bird covering its babies with her wing) and solid as a rock (a shield and buckler).

And this protection will remain, no matter what is happening all around you.

V. 7:

7  A thousand may fall at your side,

ten thousand at your right hand,

but it will not come near you.

8  You will only look with your eyes

and see the recompense of the wicked.

9  Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place—

the Most High, who is my refuge—

10  no evil shall be allowed to befall you,

no plague come near your tent.

We’ve all seen movies where a city is being destroyed, and the main character is running back and forth, dodging flying debris, and then he looks up and sees the wall of an entire building coming down, and he has no where to run, so he stands still and shuts his eyes…and without moving, pops right up through an open window when the wall falls down all around him.

That’s what’s happening here.

Chaos all around, and none of it touches you, because you have made the Lord your dwelling place.

You live in his protection, so nothing can come near you.

And part of the reason you are protected is because God sends help.

V. 11:

11  For he will command his angels concerning you

to guard you in all your ways.

12  On their hands they will bear you up,

lest you strike your foot against a stone.

This is miraculous protection from on high, divine help come to your aid, guarding you to such an extent that you won’t even stub your toe.

And the miraculous protection extends to what you will do.

V. 13:

13  You will tread on the lion and the adder;

the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot.

It’s similar to what we saw, concerning those threats great and small.