The Fixed Heart and the Coming Dawn Text: Psalm 57:6-11
Introduction: The Cave and the Crown
We find David in a cave, hiding from a murderous and irrational king. Saul is hunting him in the wilderness, and David is, from a purely human standpoint, cornered. He is in a dark place, both literally and figuratively. And it is in this place, with his enemies closing in, that he composes a song of triumphant, unshakeable faith. This is not the prosperity gospel. This is not a faith that denies the existence of trouble. This is a faith that sings in the middle of it. This is a faith that praises God for deliverance while the enemy is still at the mouth of the cave.
The second half of this psalm, which is our text this morning, marks a dramatic shift. The first part is a desperate cry for mercy, a description of the lion-like enemies that surround him. But here, the tone changes from petition to praise, from desperation to declaration. It is a shift that happens not because the external circumstances have changed, Saul is still out there, but because David’s heart has resolved to trust in God regardless of those circumstances. This is the essence of robust, biblical faith. It is not a fair-weather friend to God. It is a faith that builds an altar in the shadow of the gallows and sings of the resurrection before the crucifixion.
We live in a world that is increasingly hostile to the claims of Christ. Our enemies, like David's, are setting nets and digging pits. They are masters of slander, experts in entrapment. And the temptation for the modern Christian is to either despair in the cave or to try and fight our way out with carnal weapons. David shows us a third way: the way of the fixed heart, the way of defiant praise, the way that awakens the dawn. This is not just poetry; it is spiritual warfare of the highest order.
The Text
They have set a net for my steps; My soul is bowed down; They dug a pit before me; They themselves have fallen into the midst of it. Selah.
My heart is set, O God, my heart is set; I will sing, yes, I will sing praises!
Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.
I will give thanks to You, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to You among the nations.
For Your lovingkindness is great to the heavens And Your truth to the skies.
Be exalted above the heavens, O God; Let Your glory be above all the earth.
(Psalm 57:6-11 LSB)
The Great Reversal (v. 6)
We begin with the principle of divine irony, the great reversal of fortunes that God delights to enact.
"They have set a net for my steps; My soul is bowed down; They dug a pit before me; They themselves have fallen into the midst of it. Selah." (Psalm 57:6)
David describes the tactics of the wicked. They are trappers and miners. They set snares and dig pits. This is the methodology of the devil and his children. It is not open warfare, but deceit, entrapment, and ambush. They want to see the righteous stumble and fall. David acknowledges the effect of this: "My soul is bowed down." This is not a sinless stoicism; it is an honest confession of the weight of the trial. The pressure is immense. The soul feels the gravity of the situation.
But then comes the declaration of faith, spoken in the past tense as though it has already happened. "They themselves have fallen into the midst of it." This is the glorious, recurring pattern of God's justice. It is the Haman principle. Haman builds a gallows for Mordecai and ends up swinging on it himself. Pharaoh tries to drown the Israelite baby boys in the Nile, and God drowns his army in the Red Sea. The enemies of Daniel get him thrown into the lions' den, and they and their families end up as lion chow. This is not just wishful thinking; it is the settled moral order of the universe. God has woven this principle of reciprocal justice into the very fabric of reality. What you sow, you reap. The mischief you devise for others will come back upon your own head.
And then, "Selah." This is a musical or liturgical notation, likely meaning to pause, to reflect, to let the weight of the statement sink in. Stop and think about this. Meditate on the perfect justice of God. Our enemies are not ultimately our problem; they are their own problem. Their evil is a boomerang, and God holds the string. We should pause and marvel at the beautiful, terrible efficiency of God's righteousness. This is why we are commanded not to take our own revenge, but to leave room for the wrath of God. He is much better at it than we are.
The Fixed Heart (v. 7)
From the certainty of God's justice, David moves to the stability of his own heart.
"My heart is set, O God, my heart is set; I will sing, yes, I will sing praises!" (Psalm 57:7)
The Hebrew word for "set" here is kun, which means to be fixed, established, steadfast, prepared. David's heart is not wavering. It is not tossed about by the changing tides of circumstance. It is anchored. He says it twice for emphasis, a common Hebrew device to show certainty and intensity. My heart is fixed, truly fixed.
What is it fixed on? It is fixed on God. This is the key. A heart fixed on circumstances will be a rollercoaster. A heart fixed on your own feelings will be a swamp. A heart fixed on the approval of men will be a weather vane. But a heart fixed on the unchanging character and promises of God is a mountain. It cannot be moved.
And notice the immediate result of a fixed heart: "I will sing, yes, I will sing praises!" Worship is not the product of happy feelings; it is the product of a resolute heart. Praise is a decision before it is an emotion. David is not saying, "I feel like singing, therefore I will." He is saying, "My heart is fixed on God, therefore I will sing, regardless of how I feel." This is the kind of worship that pleases God. It is a sacrifice of praise, offered not because it is easy, but because He is worthy. This is the engine of true spiritual resilience. Out of the abundance of a fixed heart, the mouth sings.
Waking the Dawn (v. 8)
This resolute praise is not passive or quiet. It is an active, aggressive force.
"Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn." (Genesis 57:8)
"My glory" here most likely refers to his soul, the very core of his being, the image of God within him. He is commanding himself to wake up. This is not waiting for inspiration to strike; this is striking the match of inspiration. He is stirring himself up to worship. We are often told to wait on the Lord, which is true. But there are also times when we must tell our own souls to get up and get to work.
He calls for his instruments, the harp and the lyre. Worship is to be embodied, material. It is not just an ethereal, internal sentiment. It involves our breath, our voices, our hands, our instruments. It is a full-bodied activity.
And the goal is audacious: "I will awaken the dawn." This is a stunning reversal of the natural order. Normally, the dawn awakens us. The rooster crows, the sun rises, and we stir. But David, filled with the Spirit, says that his praise is so potent, so foundational to reality, that it will summon the morning. He is not waiting for the light to come to him; he is calling for it. This is a profoundly postmillennial sentiment. We are not to be a people who are passively waiting for the darkness to lift. We are a people whose worship, whose faithful work, whose joyful praise, is the very means by which God brings the dawn of His kingdom to the earth. Our praise is a battering ram against the gates of night. We sing, and the sun rises. We are not thermometers, merely reflecting the temperature of the culture. We are thermostats, setting the temperature.
Global Praise and Infinite Attributes (v. 9-10)
David's praise is not a private affair, confined to the cave. It has global, cosmic ambitions.
"I will give thanks to You, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to You among the nations... For Your lovingkindness is great to the heavens And Your truth to the skies." (Psalm 57:9-10)
This is the Great Commission in seed form. David's vision for worship transcends the borders of Israel. He intends to be a missionary psalmist. His personal deliverance is not just for his own benefit; it is a testimony to be declared "among the peoples" and "among the nations." The word for nations here is often used for the Gentiles. God's saving work in the life of one man is intended to be a global headline. This is because the God of Israel is not a tribal deity. He is the Lord of all the earth, and He intends to have the praise of all the earth.
And why is this praise necessary? Because the character of God demands it. The reason for the praise is found in verse 10. "For Your lovingkindness is great to the heavens And Your truth to the skies." The praise must be global because the attributes of God are cosmic. His lovingkindness, His hesed, His covenant faithfulness, is not a small or containable thing. It stretches to the heavens. His truth, His faithfulness to His own character and promises, reaches the clouds. These are not attributes that can be properly honored by a small, quiet, regional fan club. A God whose mercy fills the heavens requires a chorus that fills the earth.
The Ultimate End (v. 11)
The psalm concludes by returning to the ultimate purpose of all things: the glory of God.
"Be exalted above the heavens, O God; Let Your glory be above all the earth." (Psalm 57:11)
This is both a prayer and a declaration. It is the chief end of man, distilled into a single sentence. This is what it is all for. David's personal safety is not the ultimate goal. The defeat of his enemies is not the ultimate goal. Even the praise of the nations is not the ultimate goal. The ultimate goal is that God Himself would be exalted, that His glory, His manifest weight and worth, would be recognized and displayed over everything, both in the heavens and on the earth.
This is the final answer to all our troubles. Why are we in this cave? So that God might be exalted. Why are our enemies plotting? So that in their defeat, God might be exalted. Why are we commanded to sing? So that God might be exalted. This puts everything in its proper perspective. Our lives are not about us. They are a stage, and He is the one the play is about. When we understand this, it liberates us from the tyranny of our circumstances. Whether we are in a cave or on a throne, the mission is the same: to live in such a way that God is seen as glorious.
Conclusion: From the Cave to the Cosmos
David's song, born in a dark and desperate place, ends with a vision of cosmic and global worship. How does he get from one to the other? He gets there by way of a fixed heart. He gets there by understanding the justice of God, which ensures that evil will always consume itself. He gets there by a rugged determination to praise God no matter what. And he gets there by understanding that his small story is part of a much larger story, the story of God filling the whole earth with His glory.
This psalm is a pattern for us. We too live in a world of snares and pits. We too have souls that are often bowed down. But we have a greater David to look to. The Lord Jesus Christ went into the ultimate cave, the darkness of the tomb, with the powers of hell surrounding Him. And on the third day, He did not just awaken the dawn. He was the Dawn. He is the resurrection and the life.
Because of Him, our hearts can be fixed. Because of His victory, we know that every pit our enemies dig will be their own grave. Because He has been exalted above the heavens, we can have absolute confidence that His glory will one day cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. Therefore, let us fix our hearts. Let us take up our instruments. Let us sing in the darkness. For our God is great, and His praise will awaken the dawn.