A Prayer Against the Gaslighters Text: Psalm 43:1-2
Introduction: The Great Disorientation
We live in a time of managed confusion, a great and orchestrated disorientation. The world tells us that up is down, that evil is good, and that men who think they are women are in fact women. And if you dare to point out that the emperor is stark naked, you are identified as the problem. You are the troublemaker, the one sowing discord. The unholy call you unholy. The deceitful call you a liar. The unrighteous accuse you of injustice. This is the native language of the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is high-level gaslighting, and it is designed to make the saints of God feel isolated, disoriented, and perhaps even a little bit crazy.
It is in such a time that the Psalms become an anchor for the soul. The Psalms are inspired, which means they teach us how to feel, how to lament, how to pray, and how to fight when we are surrounded. Psalm 43 is what scholars believe to be the conclusion to Psalm 42; the two were likely one psalm originally. And it is a psalm for the man who feels cut off, not just from his home and the place of worship, but seemingly from God Himself. He is being slandered, oppressed, and lied about. His enemies are not just "out there"; their accusations have gotten "in here," into his own head, making him question the goodness and presence of God.
This psalm is therefore a divine tutorial in how to handle spiritual vertigo. It is a prayer that cuts through the fog of emotional confusion and psychological warfare. The psalmist does not begin with his feelings, though he is full of them. He begins by appealing to the character and office of God. He brings his case into the only court that matters and appeals to the only Judge who is not corruptible. This is a prayer against the gaslighters, a plea for divine vindication, and a model for how we are to conduct ourselves when the world, with its unholy and deceitful men, seeks to overwhelm us.
The Text
Give justice to me, O God, and plead my case against an unholy nation;
Oh protect me from the deceitful and unrighteous man!
For You are the God of my strength; why have You rejected me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
(Psalm 43:1-2 LSB)
An Appeal for Divine Justice (v. 1)
The psalm opens with a direct, bold, and entirely appropriate demand for justice.
"Give justice to me, O God, and plead my case against an unholy nation; Oh protect me from the deceitful and unrighteous man!" (Psalm 43:1)
The psalmist, traditionally identified as David, cries out, "Judge me, O God." This is not the prayer of a man terrified of judgment. This is the prayer of a man who knows he is in the right in this particular dispute and who is confident that the righteous Judge will see it. He is not claiming sinless perfection; the Psalms are full of David's confessions. Rather, he is claiming innocence on this specific charge. He is being wronged, and he wants God to take up his side. He is asking for vindication. To be a Christian does not mean you must be the sort of person who is incapable of taking up his own cause in a dispute. We are forgiven sinners, not perpetual doormats.
He asks God to "plead my case against an unholy nation." The word for unholy here is lo-hasid, meaning a nation without hesed, without covenant loyalty or faithful love. This is a nation that has abandoned its covenant obligations to God and therefore acts with treachery toward His people. We should see our own situation in this. We are surrounded by a culture, a nation, that has thrown off all covenant restraint. It is an unholy nation, one that despises the law of God and the people of God. And when you are one man against a nation, your only recourse is to appeal to the God who rules all nations.
Then the psalmist narrows his focus from the nation to the individual: "protect me from the deceitful and unrighteous man!" Notice the pairing. Deceit and unrighteousness are twin vipers. They always travel together. The man who is unrighteous, who has no standard of justice outside of his own appetites, will naturally turn to deceit. Lies are the cheapest and quickest way to get what you want when you have no moral compass. He is unjust, so he lies. He lies, which furthers his injustice. This is the character of our ancient enemy, the devil, who was a liar and a murderer from the beginning. And it is the character of all his children. The psalmist is surrounded by such men, and he knows his only true protection is God.
The Painful Question (v. 2)
After appealing to God as the righteous Judge, the psalmist pivots to the raw, emotional heart of his problem. The external assault from his enemies has created an internal crisis of faith.
"For You are the God of my strength; why have You rejected me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?" (Psalm 43:2 LSB)
He begins with a statement of solid theological truth: "For You are the God of my strength." He knows this. It is his foundational premise. God is his fortress, his stronghold. This is not some abstract doctrine for him; it is the bedrock of his life. But this solid truth makes his present experience utterly baffling. This is the great problem of the Christian life in a fallen world. We know what God has promised, and we see what is happening, and the two do not seem to align.
And so he asks the agonizing question: "why have You rejected me?" It is a question that echoes down through the corridors of Scripture. It is the cry of Job. It is the lament of Jeremiah. And ultimately, it is the cry of the Lord Jesus from the cross: "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" This is not the question of an unbeliever. An unbeliever doesn't care if God has rejected him. This is the question of a lover, a son, who feels abandoned by his father. The psalmist's circumstances are screaming "God has forgotten you!" and he is wrestling with that apparent reality in light of God's unchanging character.
He asks a second question that gets to the same point: "Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?" This is not a rhetorical question. He is genuinely perplexed. If God is my strength, why am I being crushed? If God is my vindicator, why are my enemies gloating over me? Why am I walking around under this black cloud of grief, hemmed in by those who hate me? This is the honest prayer of a man who refuses to pretend. He will not plaster a fake smile over his spiritual anguish. He brings his confusion, his pain, and his questions directly to God, which is precisely where they belong. He knows that God is the God of his strength, but he doesn't feel strong. He feels rejected and oppressed. And so he lays the contradiction at God's feet and waits for an answer.
This is a profound lesson for us. The world, and a certain kind of shallow Christianity, tells us that such questions are a sign of weak faith. The Bible shows us they are a sign of genuine faith. It is the man who takes God's promises seriously who is most wounded when those promises seem to fail. The answer to this "why" will not come in a systematic explanation of the problem of evil. The answer, as the rest of the psalm will show, comes when God sends out His light and His truth to lead the psalmist out of the darkness of his circumstances and back to the altar, back to worship. The answer is not an explanation; the answer is God Himself.