The Divine Ledger: Confidence in a Covenant-Keeping God Text: Psalm 56:8-13
Introduction: A World of Fear
We live in an age that is drowning in fear. Men fear economic collapse, they fear political instability, they fear what their neighbors think, they fear the future, and most of all, they fear other men. This fear is a tyrannical master, and it drives men to compromise, to lie, to flatter, and to crumble. The secular man has no answer for this fear because his worldview provides him with no ultimate foundation for courage. If this universe is nothing more than accidental matter in motion, then the biggest bully on the playground really does make the rules. Might makes right, and the man who can threaten your body, your reputation, or your livelihood holds all the cards.
But the Christian lives in a different reality altogether. Our reality is governed not by the whims of men, but by the sovereign decree of a personal, loving, and omnipotent God. The fear of man is a snare, the Proverb says, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe. This psalm, written by David when he was a fugitive, captured by his enemies in Gath, is a master class in how to dismantle the fear of man. It is a lesson in theological realism. David does not pretend he isn't afraid. He acknowledges the threat. But he refuses to let that fear have the last word. He confronts his fear with a series of massive, bedrock truths about the God he serves. He exchanges the fear of man for the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom and the foundation of all true courage.
This latter portion of Psalm 56 is where the argument of the psalm turns. Having laid out his precarious situation, David now pivots to the character and promises of God. And in doing so, he shows us the only path out of the prison of fear. It is not a path of self-generated positive thinking. It is the path of looking away from the flimsy threats of mortal men and fixing our gaze upon the God who holds all things, including our enemies and our very tears, in the palm of His hand.
The Text
You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call; This I know, that God is for me. In God, whose word I praise, In Yahweh, whose word I praise, In God I trust, I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me? Your vows are binding upon me, O God; I will fulfill thank offerings to You. For You have delivered my soul from death, Indeed my feet from stumbling, So that I may walk before God In the light of the living.
(Psalm 56:8-13 LSB)
God the Meticulous Accountant (v. 8)
David begins his great pivot from fear to faith by meditating on the intimate, detailed knowledge that God has of his suffering.
"You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?" (Psalm 56:8)
This is a staggering statement. Our God is not a distant, deistic clockmaker who wound up the universe and then went on vacation. He is minutely, painstakingly, and personally involved in the lives of His people. David says God has "taken account" of his wanderings. The word means to number, to reckon, to keep a precise tally. Every step David took as a fugitive, every night spent in a cave, every anxious journey was recorded in the divine ledger. God was not surprised by his predicament in Gath; He had numbered the very steps that led him there.
This is a profound comfort. Our suffering is not meaningless or random. It is not cosmic static. Every bit of it is measured and ordained by a sovereign God who is working all things together for our good. He knows the path we take, and when He has tried us, we shall come forth as gold.
But David gets even more personal. "Put my tears in Your bottle." In the ancient world, it was a custom for mourners to collect their tears in small bottles as a memorial to their grief. David takes this human custom and applies it to God. It is a stunning metaphor for God's tender care. Not a single tear shed in faith is wasted. Not one is unnoticed. God sees, He remembers, and He treasures the sorrows of His saints. He is not stoic or unfeeling. The prophet Isaiah tells us that in all our affliction, He is afflicted. And lest we think the bottle is just a poetic flourish, David adds, "Are they not in Your book?" God keeps meticulous records. He is the divine accountant, and every debit of sorrow in this life will be credited with a corresponding weight of glory in the next.
The Great Reversal (v. 9)
This confidence in God's intimate knowledge of his plight leads David to a bold declaration of faith about the outcome.
"Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call; This I know, that God is for me." (Psalm 56:9)
Notice the logic. Because God is meticulously aware of his suffering, David can be certain of his deliverance. The turning point is prayer, "in the day when I call." Prayer is not a desperate, last-ditch effort for the Christian; it is the activation of the most powerful force in the universe. It is aligning our helplessness with God's omnipotence. When we call, God acts, and when God acts, enemies are scattered.
And the foundation for this confidence is not in David's own strength or cleverness, but in a simple, profound, and world-altering truth: "This I know, that God is for me." This is the central affirmation of the Christian faith. It is the bedrock that allows us to stand when everything else is shaking. The Apostle Paul picks up this very theme and drives it to its ultimate conclusion in Romans 8: "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?" If the sovereign Creator of the cosmos is on your side, what does it matter if a few angry Philistines are not? To have God for you is to be on the side of an invincible majority.
The Word-Centered Cure for Fear (v. 10-11)
David now explains the source of his confidence. It is not a vague, sentimental feeling. It is grounded in the objective, reliable Word of God.
"In God, whose word I praise, In Yahweh, whose word I praise, In God I trust, I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me?" (Psalm 56:10-11)
This is a refrain, a chorus that David sings to his own soul. He is preaching to himself, which is something every Christian must learn to do. Notice the repetition. "In God, whose word I praise... In Yahweh, whose word I praise." He praises God for His Word. Why? Because God's Word is the revelation of His character, His promises, and His covenant faithfulness. David's trust is not in a god of his own imagination, but in the God who has spoken. He is trusting in the promises God made to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. He is trusting in the covenant God, Yahweh, who keeps His promises.
This Word-centered trust is the only effective antidote to fear. When we are afraid, we must not look inward to our feelings, but outward to God's promises. Our feelings are fickle; God's Word is fixed. And because his trust is in this unshakable Word, the conclusion is inescapable: "I shall not be afraid."
He then asks the great rhetorical question that exposes the foolishness of all earthly fear: "What can man do to me?" This is not a denial of reality. Man can do many things. Men can imprison you, slander you, impoverish you, and even kill your body. David knew this better than most. But what is the worst thing man can do? He can only kill the body. He cannot touch the soul. He cannot separate you from the love of God. He cannot nullify a single one of God's promises. Compared to the eternal God, the most powerful man is a puff of smoke, a blade of grass. To fear man is to give a gnat the gravitas of a galaxy. It is a failure of perspective, a theological absurdity.
The Obligation of Gratitude (v. 12)
David's confidence in God's deliverance is so certain that he already considers himself bound by vows of thanksgiving.
"Your vows are binding upon me, O God; I will fulfill thank offerings to You." (Psalm 56:12)
This is faith speaking in the future tense as though it were a present reality. David had likely made vows to God in his distress, promising that if God delivered him, he would offer public sacrifices of thanksgiving. Now, while still in the clutches of the enemy, he declares that those vows are "binding." He is already obligated to give thanks because he knows God's deliverance is as good as done.
This is how we are to live. We are not to wait until the storm has passed to begin thanking God. We are to thank Him in the middle of the storm, knowing that He is with us and that He will bring us through. Our entire Christian life is lived under the binding obligation of gratitude. We have been delivered from the ultimate enemy, sin and death, and therefore every day we live is a day to "fulfill thank offerings." Our lives are to be a continual sacrifice of praise to the one who has saved us.
The Purpose of Deliverance (v. 13)
Finally, David concludes with the ultimate purpose for which God delivers His people. God does not save us merely from something; He saves us for something.
"For You have delivered my soul from death, Indeed my feet from stumbling, So that I may walk before God In the light of the living." (Psalm 56:13)
Here again, David speaks of his deliverance from the Philistines as an accomplished fact. God has already delivered his soul from death and kept his feet from stumbling into the trap of the enemy. But why? What is the goal?
The goal is fellowship. The purpose of redemption is to be restored to a right relationship with God, "to walk before God." This is the language of covenant fellowship. It's what God said to Abraham: "Walk before me, and be blameless" (Genesis 17:1). It is to live one's entire life, every step, every decision, every thought, in the conscious presence of God.
And this walk is not a gloomy, fearful slog. It is a walk "in the light of the living." Light in Scripture is a metaphor for truth, for holiness, for joy, and for life itself. God saves us from the darkness of death and fear so that we can live in the bright, warm, life-giving light of His presence. This is the great end of the gospel. Jesus Christ, the true light of the world, has delivered us from the power of darkness and brought us into His marvelous light, so that we might walk before our Father not as trembling slaves, but as beloved children, living in the land of the living, forever.
Conclusion: From Gath to Golgotha
David's experience in Gath is a microcosm of the Christian life. We live as exiles in a hostile world, surrounded by enemies who would swallow us up. We are tempted daily to fear what man can do to us. But David's confidence must be our confidence. Our God is the one who numbers our wanderings and treasures our tears. He is for us.
And we have a greater reason for this confidence than even David did. We look back not just to the promises made to the patriarchs, but to the ultimate promise fulfilled at the cross. The ultimate enemy, death itself, has been defeated. God did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all. How will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? The answer to the question "What can man do to me?" was answered definitively at Golgotha. They did their worst to the Son of God, and all they managed to do was accomplish our salvation.
Therefore, we can face any Philistine, any threat, any fear, not with a stiff upper lip, but with a robust and joyful faith. Our God has delivered our souls from eternal death. He has kept our feet from stumbling into final ruin. And He has done it for this glorious purpose: that we might walk before Him, in the light of the living, now and forever. Let us therefore fulfill our vows, and let our entire lives be one great thank offering to Him.