Commentary - Psalm 39:12-13

Bird's-eye view

Psalm 39 is a master class in how a godly man processes the fleeting nature of his own life under the sovereign hand of God. David begins with a stoic resolution to keep his mouth shut in front of the wicked, lest they misconstrue his groaning (vv. 1-3). But this internal pressure builds until it bursts forth in a prayer, not of complaint, but of earnest inquiry. He asks God to teach him the measure of his days (vv. 4-6). The turning point comes when he declares his hope is in God alone (v. 7), and from that foundation, he rightly interprets his suffering as divine discipline (vv. 8-11). The final two verses, our text for this evening, are the culmination of this whole process. Having acknowledged God's sovereignty and his own frailty, David now throws himself entirely upon the mercy of God, pleading his case as a temporary resident, a sojourner, who is utterly dependent on the grace of his Host.

This is not the prayer of a man demanding his rights. It is the cry of a man who knows he has none. It is a prayer saturated with the knowledge that this world is not our home, and that our only hope is to be in right relation with the God who owns it all. This is the kind of prayer that pleases God, because it comes from a heart that has been humbled by the truth.

Outline

Context In Psalms

This psalm, given to Jeduthun the musician, is intended for corporate worship. This is crucial. The raw, personal honesty of David is not meant for private journaling alone; it is meant to be sung by the whole congregation. It teaches the people of God how to think and feel about the brevity of life and the weight of God's disciplinary hand. It stands in a long line of psalms that wrestle with suffering and mortality (e.g., Psalm 90), but its unique contribution is the way it models the progression from bottled-up anguish to a full-throated plea for mercy, grounded in a right understanding of our relationship to God as pilgrims passing through His land.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 12 “Hear my prayer, O Yahweh, and give ear to my cry for help; Do not be silent at my tears; For I am a sojourner with You, A foreign resident like all my fathers.”

“Hear my prayer, O Yahweh, and give ear to my cry for help” , David begins his final plea by addressing God with His covenant name, Yahweh. This is not a generic appeal to a distant deity. This is a son speaking to his Father. The piling up of terms, prayer, cry for help, is a common feature of Hebrew poetry, designed for emphasis. He is not just mumbling; he is desperate. His soul is in turmoil, and he wants to make sure the throne of grace is attending. Of course, God always hears, but the prayer of faith is bold to ask for what has been promised, which is a listening ear. This is the cry of a man who believes God is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

“Do not be silent at my tears” , The prayer now moves from the audible to the visible. Tears are a form of prayer. They are liquid words, and God bottles them all (Ps. 56:8). David's argument here is profound. He is saying, “Lord, if my words do not move you, then let my weeping speak.” There are griefs so deep they are beyond articulation, and this is where the Spirit intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words (Rom. 8:26). David knows that God is not a stone-faced idol; He is a compassionate Father. Silence from God is one of the believer's greatest trials. David is pleading with God not to hide His face, not to give him the silent treatment. Our Lord Jesus, in the days of His flesh, offered up prayers with loud cries and tears, and was heard (Heb. 5:7). Our tears, when offered in faith, are potent arguments in the court of heaven.

“For I am a sojourner with You, A foreign resident like all my fathers.” , Here is the central argument of his plea. Why should God hear him? Because, David says, “I am a sojourner with you.” The preposition is key. He is not a sojourner in some abstract sense; he is a sojourner with God. This is covenant language. The land belonged to Yahweh, and Israel was His tenant (Lev. 25:23). David is acknowledging that his life, his kingship, his very breath, are all held on lease from the great Landlord. He owns nothing. He is just passing through. This is the great confession of the patriarchs, who acknowledged they were strangers and exiles on the earth (Heb. 11:13). By identifying with his fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, David is reminding God of His covenant faithfulness through the generations. He is saying, “Lord, you took care of my fathers who lived in tents, now take care of me, their son, who is just as transient as they were.” This is the blessed state of every believer. We are citizens of heaven, and we are therefore aliens and pilgrims here (1 Pet. 2:11). This world is not our home, we're just a-passin' through. And a wise pilgrim knows to stay on very good terms with the King of the country.

v. 13 “Turn Your gaze away from me, that I may smile again Before I go and am no more.”

“Turn Your gaze away from me, that I may smile again” , This is one of the most startling requests in all the Psalms, and it can be easily misunderstood. Is David asking God to leave him alone? In a sense, yes, but we must understand the kind of "gaze" he is talking about. Throughout this psalm, he has been agonizing under the disciplinary gaze of God. He feels the weight of God's stare, scrutinizing and rebuking him for his sin (v. 11). This is the look that makes a man's beauty waste away like a moth. It is an intense, holy, consuming fire. What David is asking for is a reprieve. He is like a child who has been under his father's stern correction and finally asks, "Dad, can I just have a moment to catch my breath? Can you relax your face so that I can find my smile again?" He is not asking for God to abandon him, but rather to relent from the intensity of His chastisement. He longs for what the Aaronic blessing calls the Lord making His face to shine upon you (Num. 6:25). He wants a breather, a moment of cheer before the end.

“Before I go and am no more.” , And here is the final, stark reality that has driven this whole psalm. Life is short. Death is certain. David knows his time is brief. The phrase "and am no more" is a blunt Hebrew idiom for death. It is the same phrase used for Enoch, who "was not, for God took him" (Gen. 5:24). David is saying, "Lord, my candle is about to go out. Grant me a little joy, a little sunshine, before the darkness falls. Let my last days not be spent entirely under this heavy cloud of Your displeasure." This is not a cry of despair, but of realism. It is the prayer of a man who has numbered his days and wants to finish his course, if not with a roar, then at least with a smile. For the believer, this prayer is answered in Christ. Because He endured the full, unmitigated gaze of God's wrath on the cross, we can now live under the smiling gaze of God's favor. And when we "go and are no more," it is not to vanish into nothingness, but to go and be with Christ, which is far better.

Application

There are three main points of application for us here. First, we must learn to pray with the honesty of David. Our prayers should not be exercises in pious fluff. When you are hurting, tell God you are hurting. When you are weeping, present your tears to Him as evidence. He is not afraid of your raw emotions, so long as they are brought to Him in faith.

Second, we must embrace our identity as sojourners. We are not settlers here. This world is not the destination; it is the journey. When we remember this, it changes everything. It loosens our grip on the things of this world and fixes our hope on the world to come. It makes us dependent on our Host, our God, for every meal and every night's lodging.

And third, we must understand the gaze of God. If we are outside of Christ, the holy gaze of God is a terrifying thing, for it sees every sin. But if we are in Christ, we can ask God to look upon us, because He does not see us in our sin, but sees us clothed in the righteousness of His Son. And in those times of heavy discipline, when we feel the heat of His corrective gaze, we can appeal to Him, like David, for a moment of grace, a moment to smile again, knowing that our Father's discipline is always for our good, and that in the end, we will not "be no more," but will be with Him forever.