The Good Portion: Refuge and Reality Text: Psalm 16:1-4
Introduction: The War for Your Trust
Every man takes refuge somewhere. This is not an option. The only question is where you will run when the storms hit, when the accusations fly, when the foundations shake. The modern world offers a buffet of flimsy shelters. Men take refuge in their stock portfolios, in their political tribe, in their reputation, in their therapeutic jargon, or in the bottom of a bottle. These are all sandcastles, meticulously constructed, waiting for the tide of reality to wash them away. They are false gods, and the worship of false gods is always a bad bargain.
David, writing this Mikhtam, this "golden" psalm, is not writing a sentimental poem about feeling safe. He is drafting a statement of allegiance. This is a declaration of cosmic loyalty. He is planting his flag on the only solid ground in the universe, which is the character and promise of the living God. This psalm is a foundational lesson in spiritual physics. It teaches us that our delight, our goodness, and our safety are all woven together, and they are all found in one place, and one place only.
We live in an age that despises exclusivity. Our culture insists that all roads lead to the top of the mountain, that all definitions of "good" are equally valid, and that loyalty to one truth is the highest form of bigotry. Psalm 16 is a direct assault on that entire worldview. It draws a sharp, clean, glorious line in the sand. On one side is Yahweh, and with Him is goodness, delight, and preservation. On the other side is "another god," and with that choice comes multiplied pains and ultimate futility. This is not a psalm for the pluralist. This is a psalm for the blood-bought saint who has learned, often the hard way, that every other refuge is a lie.
The Text
Keep me, O God, for I take refuge in You.
O my soul, you have said to Yahweh, "You are my Lord; I have no good without You."
As for the saints who are in the earth, They are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight.
The pains of those who have bartered for another god will be multiplied; I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood, Nor will I take their names upon my lips.
(Psalm 16:1-4 LSB)
The Covenantal Fortress (v. 1)
The psalm opens with a plea that is also a confession of faith.
"Keep me, O God, for I take refuge in You." (Psalm 16:1)
The prayer "Keep me" or "Preserve me" is rooted in the reason that follows: "for I take refuge in You." This is covenant logic. David is not asking God to act inconsistently with His own character. He is saying, "You are a fortress, and I have run into You for safety. Therefore, do what fortresses do. Protect what is inside." This is not the desperate cry of someone trying to convince a reluctant deity. It is the confident claim of a son who knows his Father's house is safe.
To "take refuge" is an act of total commitment. It means you have abandoned all other shelters. You are not keeping one foot in the world's foxhole while testing out God's fortress. You have surveyed the landscape, seen the coming judgment, and made a definitive move. You have entrusted your entire being, your life, your reputation, your future, to the sovereign protection of God. This is what it means to believe in Christ. It is to abandon all trust in your own righteousness, your own strength, and your own wisdom, and to hide yourself entirely in Him.
This refuge is not a feeling of safety; it is the fact of safety. Our security does not depend on the strength of our grip on God, but on the strength of His grip on us. He is the one who keeps. Our part is to run to Him. His part is to be the impenetrable rock He has always been. The foundation of our security is not our fickle faith, but His faithful character.
The Source of All Good (v. 2)
Having established his position, David now preaches to his own soul, reminding himself of a foundational commitment.
"O my soul, you have said to Yahweh, 'You are my Lord; I have no good without You.'" (Psalm 16:2 LSB)
This is a vital spiritual discipline. David is calling his own soul to attention, making it reaffirm its allegiance. He reminds himself of his confession: "You are my Lord." The word is Adonai, signifying Master, Sovereign, the one to whom absolute obedience is due. This is the bedrock. Before we can understand goodness, we must settle the issue of authority. Christ is either Lord of all, or He is not Lord at all.
From this confession of lordship flows one of the most profound statements in all of Scripture: "I have no good without You." Another way to render this is "my goodness is not outside of you" or "apart from you, I have no good thing." This utterly demolishes all forms of humanism and secular morality. Goodness is not an abstract standard that God adheres to. God Himself is the standard. Goodness is not a thing we can possess independently. Any good we have, any virtue we exhibit, any kindness we show, is a borrowed good, a reflected good. It is a gift from the only one who is intrinsically Good.
This means that the unbeliever, no matter how outwardly moral or philanthropic, has no ultimate "good." His actions are not done from a heart of submission to the Lord, and therefore they are dead works. They are cut flowers in a vase, appearing beautiful for a time, but severed from the only root that gives life. For the Christian, this is a liberating truth. We do not have to muster up goodness from within our own depleted resources. We find our goodness in Him. Our righteousness is an alien righteousness, the very righteousness of Christ, imputed to us by faith.
The Delight in the Saints (v. 3)
A man's confession of loyalty to God is proven by his love for the people of God.
"As for the saints who are in the earth, They are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight." (Psalm 16:3 LSB)
After declaring his vertical allegiance to God, David immediately declares his horizontal allegiance to God's people. This is the necessary consequence. You cannot claim to love God whom you have not seen if you do not love your brother whom you have seen. David looks at the "saints," the qedoshim, the "set apart ones," and he does not see a collection of flawed, irritating people. He sees the "majestic ones," the "excellent ones."
Why? Because he sees them through God's eyes. He sees them as God's treasured possession, the bride of Christ, the temple of the Holy Spirit. His delight is not in their inherent perfection, but in their covenantal position. He delights in them because God delights in them. This is a direct challenge to the cynical, individualistic spirit of our age, which is often found even within the church. We are quick to find fault, to maintain our distance, to treat the church as a consumer good that we will patronize as long as it meets our needs. David says his "delight" is in these people. This is a cultivated, covenantal affection.
If you find that your primary disposition toward your fellow believers is one of criticism, annoyance, or boredom, then you must question the reality of your confession in verse 2. A love for the Father necessarily produces a love for His children. To delight in the saints is to delight in the work of God's grace in messy, ordinary people. It is to see the majesty of God reflected in the faces of redeemed sinners.
The Great Rejection (v. 4)
The psalmist now turns to the alternative. He draws the antithesis with sharp, severe lines.
"The pains of those who have bartered for another god will be multiplied; I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood, Nor will I take their names upon my lips." (Psalm 16:4 LSB)
Idolatry is presented here as a foolish transaction, a "barter." The idolater trades the infinite, living God for a finite, dead substitute. He exchanges the fountain of living waters for a broken cistern that can hold no water. And the result of this trade is not fulfillment, but multiplied "pains" or "sorrows." Every sin promises happiness but delivers misery. Every idol promises freedom but forges chains. The world chases after other gods, gods of money, sex, power, and self, and the result is a world full of sorrow, anxiety, and despair.
In response to this, David declares a radical separation. First, a separation of worship: "I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood." This is a rejection of their corrupt, and likely gruesome, religious practices. There can be no syncretism. We cannot blend the worship of Yahweh with the worship of Molech or Baal. We cannot sing praises to Christ on Sunday and offer our children to the idols of secularism Monday through Saturday.
Second, he declares a separation of fellowship: "Nor will I take their names upon my lips." This is not about being rude. It is about a complete and total disassociation. It is a refusal to honor, celebrate, or even acknowledge the false gods and the systems they represent. In a world that demands we "celebrate" every form of rebellion against God, this is a deeply counter-cultural stance. It is a statement of exclusive loyalty. My mouth was made to praise Yahweh, and I will not pollute it with the names of His rivals. This is the essence of the first commandment lived out. You shall have no other gods before me. Not in your heart, not in your worship, and not on your lips.
Conclusion: Christ, Our Good Portion
This psalm, like all the psalms, ultimately finds its fulfillment in the Lord Jesus Christ. The apostle Peter, on the day of Pentecost, quotes the latter half of this very psalm and applies it directly to Jesus and His resurrection (Acts 2:25-28). Jesus is the ultimate man who took refuge in His Father. He is the one who could truly say, "I have no good apart from You." He is the one whose supreme delight was in the saints, the ones the Father had given Him. And He is the one who was preserved, whose soul was not abandoned to Hades, and whose body did not see corruption.
Because we are united to Christ by faith, this psalm becomes our song. We take refuge in God because we are hidden in Christ. We can say "You are my Lord" because He has conquered our rebellious hearts. We have a goodness not our own, because His righteousness has been given to us. We can begin to delight in the saints because we are part of His body, the church. And we can turn our backs on the idols of the world because He has already triumphed over them.
Therefore, the application is to preach this psalm to your own soul. When you are tempted to find refuge in worldly security, remind your soul, "I take refuge in God alone." When you are tempted to define your own good, remind your soul, "I have no good apart from Him." When you are tempted to despise the church, remind your soul, "These are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight." And when you are tempted by the allure of the world's idols, remember the bad bargain, turn your back, and refuse even to speak their names.