Commentary - Psalm 59:6-8

Bird's-eye view

This section of Psalm 59 gives us a vivid picture of the nature of ungodly opposition and the serene, sovereign confidence of God in the face of it. David, surrounded by Saul's murderous agents, paints them as a pack of feral dogs, returning night after night to their malicious work. Their activity is characterized by noise, menace, and arrogance. They are all bark and bite, spewing threats and blasphemies as though there were no God in heaven to hear them. This is the constant pattern of the wicked; they operate under a cover of darkness, their mouths full of swords, convinced of their own autonomy and impunity.

But the perspective abruptly shifts from the streets of the city to the throne room of heaven. The frantic, noisy circling of the dogs is met with the profound, cosmic laughter of Yahweh. This is not the laughter of mirth, but of derision. God is not amused by their sin, but He holds their pretensions and their power in utter contempt. Their most fearsome plots are, to Him, a ridiculous joke. This divine mockery is not limited to Saul's cronies but extends to all the rebellious nations. David, by faith, sees his immediate predicament from God's point of view, and this is what anchors his soul. He understands that the most terrifying earthly threat is laughable when measured against the sovereign power of God.

Outline

Context In The Psalms

Psalm 59 is a Miktam of David, set to "Do Not Destroy," with a historical superscription linking it to the time when Saul sent men to watch David's house in order to kill him (1 Sam. 19:11). This psalm falls squarely into the category of the imprecatory psalms, where the psalmist calls upon God to bring judgment upon his enemies. It is a prayer for deliverance rooted in a deep understanding of God's covenant justice. The psalm moves from a desperate plea for help (vv. 1-5), to a description of the enemy's wickedness and God's response (vv. 6-8), to a confident appeal for a specific kind of judgment (vv. 9-13), and finally to a vow of triumphant praise (vv. 14-17). The central pivot in this section is the stark contrast between the noisy, threatening activity on earth and the sovereign, derisive laughter in heaven. This theme of God laughing at the plots of the wicked is a recurring biblical motif, most famously found in Psalm 2, which establishes the pattern for how God views all rebellion against His anointed.

Key Issues

The Dogs of War and the Laughter of Heaven

When David describes his enemies, he doesn't pull any punches. He calls them what they are. In this case, they are a pack of stray dogs. This is not a sentimental image of a beloved pet; in the ancient world, stray dogs were unclean scavengers. They were noisy, dangerous, and traveled in packs. They were the garbage disposals of the city, howling and snarling as they roamed the streets after dark. This is how David sees the men Saul sent to murder him. They are operating on a sub-human, bestial level. Their malice has stripped them of their dignity.

But then David lifts his eyes. He sees past the snarling dogs in the street and looks to the heavens. What is God's reaction to this pathetic display of rebellion? It is not panic. It is not concern. It is laughter. Yahweh laughs. This is one of the most terrifying and comforting truths in all of Scripture. It is terrifying for the wicked, because it reveals their utter insignificance. Their most potent rage is a cosmic absurdity. But it is profoundly comforting for the righteous, because it assures us that our God is not wringing His hands. He holds all the councils of the ungodly in derision. Our confidence in the face of evil is not based on our own strength, but on the settled, sovereign, and sometimes laughing, contempt of God for all who oppose His kingdom.

Verse by Verse Commentary

6 They return at evening, they howl like a dog, And go around the city.

The first thing to note is the routine nature of their malice. They return at evening. This is not a one-time threat. It is a persistent, nightly siege. The darkness is their natural habitat, for their deeds are evil. And their sound is the howl of a dog. This is the sound of mindless, pack-driven aggression. It is not reasoned opposition; it is a guttural, animalistic rage. They are not content to wait at David's house; they go around the city, patrolling and encircling, creating an atmosphere of menace. They are hunting, and they want their prey to know it. This is the classic tactic of intimidation, to make the righteous feel isolated and surrounded by a world of howling beasts.

7 Behold, they pour forth speech with their mouth; Swords are in their lips, For, they say, “Who hears?”

David moves from the sound they make to the content of their speech. The word for pour forth is like a gushing spring; their malicious words are uncontrollable, bubbling up from the foul source of their hearts. And what are these words like? They are swords. Their lips are weapons, designed to cut, to wound, and to kill. Slander, threats, lies, and curses are their ammunition. But the foundation of this verbal violence is a theological conviction, a creed of practical atheism. They say to themselves, "Who hears?" They are convinced that there is no one to call them to account. They believe the heavens are empty, or that if God exists, He is deaf or indifferent. This is the root of all high-handed wickedness. Men feel free to have swords in their lips when they believe there is no God who has ears.

8 But You, O Yahweh, laugh at them; You mock all the nations.

The word But here is one of the great hinges of Scripture. It swings the scene from the dusty, dangerous streets of a Judean town to the heights of heaven. While the dogs are howling, God is laughing. While they are sharpening their verbal swords, God is holding them in derision. This laughter of God is a statement of absolute sovereignty. It is the laughter of a king who sees a toddler raising a fist against him. The threat is not real. The rebellion is pathetic. David, in the midst of his peril, is given a glimpse of the divine perspective. He understands that God's assessment of the situation is the only one that matters. And notice how the scope widens. It begins with Saul's henchmen, but David understands the principle applies to all the nations. Every rebellious king, every godless parliament, every Christ-hating council that has ever plotted against the Lord and His Anointed is the object of this same divine mockery. God's laughter echoes down the corridors of history, and it is the final word on all human rebellion.

Application

We live in a world full of howling dogs. Every day we are confronted with the snarling of the ungodly. They pour forth their speech on the internet, in the news, in our universities, and from our halls of government. Their lips are filled with the swords of slander, accusation, and blasphemy. And they do it all with the same arrogant sneer: "Who hears? Who will stop us?" They believe they are getting away with it.

Our task as Christians is to learn to hear the laughter of God above the howling of the dogs. We must not allow the noise of the enemy to fill our ears and intimidate our hearts. We must, by faith, see the situation from the ramparts of heaven. Our enemies are not formidable opponents locked in a tight contest with God. They are a cosmic joke. Their rebellion is an absurdity that God Himself holds in derision. This does not mean their swords can't hurt us. They can, and they often do. David was in real danger. But it means that their ultimate purpose will fail. Their kingdom will fall. Their noise will be silenced.

Therefore, we should be of good cheer. When the wicked rage, we should remember Psalm 2 and Psalm 59. We should cultivate a sanctified sense of humor, a holy confidence that laughs with God at the pretensions of a rebellious world. And this confidence should free us to be faithful, to speak the truth without fear, and to sing God's praises in the morning, knowing that the night of howling does not last forever.