Commentary - Psalm 42:9-11

Bird's-eye view

In this portion of the psalm, the psalmist continues his internal dialogue, a profound spiritual argument with himself. He is not simply emoting; he is reasoning from covenant premises. Having just declared that the Lord will command His lovingkindness in the day and His song in the night (v. 8), he immediately pivots to the raw reality of his situation. This is not the sign of a double minded man, but rather a man of deep faith wrestling with profound desperation. He takes his feelings of abandonment and the taunts of his enemies and brings them directly to God, his Rock. The passage climaxes with the great refrain of the psalm, where faith gives the soul its marching orders. It is a masterful depiction of how a believer is to handle spiritual depression: not by ignoring the darkness, but by speaking God's light directly into it.

The structure is a beautiful oscillation between complaint and confidence. He addresses God with his "why" questions, reports the painful words of his adversaries, and then turns the "why" question on his own soul, commanding it to hope in God. This is the engine of sanctification in the midst of trial. It is a refusal to let circumstances or feelings have the last word. The last word belongs to God and His promises of salvation, which is why the psalmist can say, "I shall still praise Him."

Outline

Context In Psalms

Psalm 42 and 43 are widely considered to be a single, unified psalm, artificially divided at some point in their transmission. The most compelling evidence for this is the recurring refrain found in 42:5, 42:11, and 43:5. This refrain acts as the central structural and thematic anchor for the entire lament. The psalmist is in exile, far from the house of God, and is suffering from a deep spiritual thirst and the oppression of his enemies.

This passage (42:9-11) forms the second major movement of this unified psalm. The first movement (42:1-5) established the psalmist's deep longing for God and his memory of past corporate worship, culminating in the first instance of the refrain. Here, the psalmist intensifies his complaint, focusing more directly on the taunts of the enemy and the feeling of being forgotten by God. This sets the stage for the final movement in Psalm 43, where the psalmist will plead for vindication and express a confident hope of returning to worship God in His sanctuary. The entire piece is a master class in how to navigate the valley of spiritual darkness with integrity and robust faith.

Verse by Verse Commentary

v. 9 I say to God my rock, “Why have You forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”

I say to God my rock. The psalmist begins his complaint by establishing the basis of his complaint. He is not shaking his fist at an unknown deity or a vague cosmic force. He is speaking to "God my rock." This is covenant language. A rock is a place of stability, a fortress, a refuge. Before he asks his hard questions, he affirms who God is. This is crucial. We have no standing to ask God "why" if we have not first acknowledged who He is. He is our stability, even when we feel like we are sinking in quicksand. The psalmist is arguing from his relationship with God. "You are my Rock. Therefore, the way things currently are makes no sense."

Why have You forgotten me? This is the cry of dereliction. It is a question born of intense pain and seeming abandonment. Of course, the psalmist knows intellectually that God cannot forget His people (Is. 49:15). But it certainly feels that way. Faith is not the absence of such feelings; faith is what we do with them. He doesn't bottle it up. He doesn't pretend. He takes this raw, honest feeling and brings it directly to the one he calls his Rock. This is the same cry that the Lord Jesus, our ultimate Rock, would cry from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Our Lord entered into this same darkness so that we, in our much smaller darknesses, would never truly be alone.

Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? The problem is not abstract. It has a source: the enemy. There are real adversaries causing real pain. The word for oppression carries the idea of being crushed or squeezed. The Christian life is not a quiet retreat from the world; it is often a battleground. And in this battle, there are seasons where the enemy appears to have the upper hand. The psalmist's mourning is not a sign of weakness, but an honest reaction to the brutal reality of spiritual warfare. He asks God why this state of affairs is being permitted to continue, given who God is.

v. 10 As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries reproach me, While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”

As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries reproach me. Words can be weapons, and the psalmist feels their impact not as mere insults, but as physical, bone crushing trauma. This is not hyperbole for a man whose life is lived before the face of God. When our identity is wrapped up in our relationship with God, an attack on that relationship is an attack on our very being. The modern world, steeped in materialism, cannot understand this. It thinks words are just air. But the Bible knows that words have the power of life and death, and the reproaches of the enemy here are experienced as a mortal blow.

While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?” Here is the specific content of the reproach, the sharp point of the spear. This is the central question that the ungodly always pose to the righteous in their affliction. It is a theological taunt. They are not just mocking the psalmist; they are mocking his God. They look at his miserable circumstances and draw a conclusion: his God is either non existent, powerless, or faithless. "If your God is so great, why is your life such a mess?" This is the same question Satan wants us to ask. It is the question the mockers hurled at Jesus on the cross. And notice the frequency: "all day long." This is a relentless, grinding assault on his faith.

v. 11 Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why are you disturbed within me? Wait for God, for I shall still praise Him, The salvation of my presence and my God.

Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why are you disturbed within me? Here the psalmist pivots. He has spoken to God. He has reported the words of his enemies. Now he speaks to himself. This is the great business of the Christian life: preaching the gospel to your own soul. He interrogates his despair. He cross examines his anxiety. He is not allowing his soul to be a passive victim of its feelings. He is calling it to account. He asks "why?" not because he doesn't know the circumstances, but because he wants to remind his soul that the circumstances are not the ultimate reality. There is a greater reality, a greater "why," that must govern his internal state.

Wait for God. This is the command of faith. After the interrogation comes the exhortation. Hope is not a feeling; it is a decision and a discipline. It is an active, expectant waiting. It is not passive resignation. It is the posture of a soldier on watch, knowing his commander will arrive with reinforcements. He commands his soul to orient itself toward God's future deliverance, not its present distress. This is where the battle is won or lost. Will you listen to your soul, or will you talk to it?

for I shall still praise Him. This is the ground of his command to hope. Hope is not a shot in the dark. It is based on a future certainty. "I shall still praise Him." It is a settled conviction. He knows that this current season of mourning and oppression will not last forever. There will come a day when his mouth is once again filled with praise. This future reality must govern the present. We live our lives backwards from the promises of God. Because praise is the certain end, hope is the necessary means.

The salvation of my presence and my God. The verse ends by identifying the object of his hope. He will praise God because God is his salvation. The Hebrew is literally "the salvations of my face." God's deliverance will be so manifest that it will change his very countenance, lifting his downcast face. And the final anchor is possession: "and my God." He is not just God in the abstract; He is my God. This personal, covenantal relationship is the bedrock on which the entire psalm is built, and it is the only thing that can sustain a soul in the face of bone shattering reproach and profound despair.

Application

This passage gives us a divine blueprint for dealing with spiritual depression and the assaults of the enemy. First, we must be honest with God. We are allowed to ask "why." Our relationship with God is robust enough to handle our questions, our pain, and our feelings of abandonment. But we must ask as the psalmist does, grounding our questions in the affirmation that He is our Rock.

Second, we must recognize the enemy's strategy. The world, the flesh, and the devil will always use our suffering to ask, "Where is your God?" They want to isolate us and make us believe that our affliction is proof of God's absence. We must identify this as a lie from the pit of hell and refuse to believe it. Our suffering is not pointless; it is the very arena in which God is strengthening our faith and preparing us for glory.

Finally, and most importantly, we must learn to preach to ourselves. Our souls are prone to wander, to despair, to be disturbed. We cannot let our feelings drive the bus. We must take our souls by the scruff of the neck and command them to hope in God. We must remind ourselves of the future certainty of our praise, a certainty purchased by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He is the salvation of our presence, and because He is our God, we have every reason to wait for Him with confident expectation.