The Fortified City of God: Psalm 60:9-12
Introduction: A Kingdom in Disarray
We come now to the end of a psalm that begins in national disarray. David is on the throne, but the kingdom he inherited is a broken one. God has shown His people "hard things" and made them drink the "wine of astonishment" (v. 3). They have been scattered, broken, and shaken. This is the starting point for a right understanding of our place in the world. Before we can talk about victory, we must first be honest about our sin and the source of our judgment. It is not Philistia, not Moab, not Edom, but God who has disciplined His people. God scattered us. God judged us. Any honest assessment of our own cultural moment must begin with the same kind of blunt honesty. The church in the West has been drinking the wine of confusion for some time now, and the first step toward sobriety is to confess who poured the cup.
But this psalm does not end in despair. It moves from honest confession of disaster to a robust confidence in God's ultimate victory. David, having acknowledged God's hand in the judgment, now looks to God's hand for the victory. This is the pivot point for all true reformation. When we understand that God is the one who brings us low, we can then have confidence that He is the only one who can raise us up. This is not a psalm for the triumphalistic, but for the humbled. It is for those who have been disciplined and are now ready to be restored. The final verses of this psalm are a battle cry, but it is a battle cry that can only be sounded by those who know their own weakness and God's unassailable strength.
The question before us is the same question that was before David. We look out at a hostile world, at fortified cities of unbelief, at the daunting challenge of Edom, and we ask, "Who will bring us in?" The answer is not found in a new political strategy, a cleverer marketing campaign for the gospel, or in mustering our own strength. The answer is found in a radical dependence on the God who first rejected us in order to save us.
The Text
Who will bring me into the fortified city?
Who will lead me to Edom?
Have You Yourself, O God, not rejected us?
And will You, O God, not go forth with our armies?
Oh give us help against the adversary,
For salvation by man is worthless.
Through God we shall do valiantly,
And it is He who will tread down our adversaries.
(Psalm 60:9-12 LSB)
The Rhetorical Question of Faith (v. 9)
David begins this section with a pair of questions that reveal the predicament.
"Who will bring me into the fortified city? Who will lead me to Edom?" (Psalm 60:9)
Edom was a perennial enemy of Israel, and a picture of the fleshly, profane man, descended from Esau. The "fortified city" likely refers to Petra, a city carved out of rock, seemingly impregnable. David is looking at the humanly impossible task. He is sizing up the opposition, and he is not minimizing the challenge. This is not chest-thumping bravado. This is a sober assessment of the enemy's strength. The world, the flesh, and the devil have built their strongholds, their fortified cities, and they appear to us to be entirely secure.
Our secularist culture is just such a fortified city. Its walls are built with the stones of godless education, judicial activism, sexual anarchy, and materialist philosophy. From the outside, it looks impenetrable. Who can possibly breach these walls? Who can lead us into the heart of Edom, this profane and God-hating culture, and claim it for Christ? This is the question every faithful Christian ought to be asking. It is not a question of despair, but a question that drives us outside of ourselves to find the answer.
The Painful Premise (v. 10)
The answer to the first question is found in the premise of the second. David turns directly to God.
"Have You Yourself, O God, not rejected us? And will You, O God, not go forth with our armies?" (Psalm 60:10)
This is a stunning turn. It is a bold, almost audacious, statement of faith rooted in a painful reality. The first clause is a frank acknowledgment of the beginning of the psalm. "You rejected us." You are the one who broke us down. You are the one who made us drink the wine of astonishment. But this is not an accusation; it is the foundation of his appeal. It is as if he is saying, "Lord, since You were the one who started this, You must be the one to finish it. Since You were the one who wounded us for our sin, You must be the one to lead us now in righteousness."
This is how covenant logic works. God's chastisement of His people is not for their destruction, but for their repentance and restoration. His rejection is a temporary and purposeful prelude to His acceptance. David understands this. He knows that the same God who refused to go out with their armies is the only one who can go out with their armies. Because God is the one who ordains both the defeat and the victory, our only hope is to appeal to His character and His promises. The fact that God cared enough to discipline us is the very proof that He has not abandoned us entirely. A father who lets his son run headlong into ruin without a word of correction is a father who does not love his son. God's rod is a sign of His love, and so David appeals to the God of the rod to now extend the scepter.
The Uselessness of Man (v. 11)
This leads to the central prayer and the central confession of the entire psalm.
"Oh give us help against the adversary, For salvation by man is worthless." (Psalm 60:11)
Here is the heart of the matter. The Hebrew for "worthless" is shav, meaning vanity, emptiness, a thing of nought. All human solutions, all political messiahs, all educational reforms, all bootstrap moralism, all of it is utter vanity when it comes to the real battle. Men cannot do it. You can fill Congress with new men, you can elect a different party, you can launch a new initiative, but if God is not in it, the salvation you get is worthless. It is a puff of smoke.
This is a truth our generation desperately needs to learn. We are addicted to man-made solutions. The church is constantly tempted to adopt the world's methods to fight the world's battles, which is like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. We think a better program or a bigger budget will do it. But David says no. Vain is the help of man. Unless God helps us against the adversary, we have no help at all. This is not a counsel of despair, but a declaration of dependence. It is the necessary prerequisite for true victory. You must be utterly convinced of the bankruptcy of human effort before you will ever cast yourself wholly upon God.
The Divine Formula for Victory (v. 12)
The psalm concludes with a magnificent couplet that summarizes the whole of the Christian life and mission.
"Through God we shall do valiantly, And it is He who will tread down our adversaries." (Psalm 60:12)
Notice the glorious paradox, the divine synergy. "Through God we shall do valiantly." This is not quietism. This is not passivity. This is not sitting in a prayer circle waiting for the Rapture bus. God's sovereignty does not negate our responsibility; it empowers it. Because God is the one who gives the victory, we are the ones who are freed to fight with valor. We are to "do valiantly." We are to act, to strive, to work, to fight, to preach, to build, to contend. We are commanded to be courageous.
But the power comes from Him. We act through God. And the ultimate result is His alone: "it is He who will tread down our adversaries." We fight the battle, but He secures the victory. We swing the sword, but He drives it home. Our weapons in this fight are not carnal, but they are mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds (2 Cor. 10:4). We preach the gospel. We plant churches. We catechize our children. We live out the faith in our homes and our vocations. We do these things valiantly, with courage and conviction, not because we believe in our own strength, but because we believe in the God who tramples down His enemies.
This is the engine of a robust, world-conquering postmillennialism. Jesus Christ, the greater David, inherited a broken kingdom, a world ruined by sin. He is now reigning from the right hand of the Father, and He is steadily and progressively treading down His adversaries through the valiant work of His church. He does this through words and water, bread and wine. He does it as we, His people, refuse to trust in the arm of the flesh and instead, through Him, do valiantly. The outcome is not in doubt. He will tread down our adversaries. The fortified city will fall. Edom will be possessed. The only question is whether we will be the kind of people who believe it, and who therefore fight.
Conclusion: From Rejection to Reigning
This psalm gives us the essential pattern for Christian cultural engagement. It begins with the humility that comes from recognizing God's chastening hand. It moves to a complete disillusionment with all man-centered solutions. And it culminates in a courageous, active, and valiant faith that does the work set before it, all the while knowing that the victory belongs entirely to God.
We look at the fortified cities of our day, and we ask, "Who will bring us in?" The answer is the same now as it was then. The God who was rejected on a cross, and who in that rejection secured our salvation, is the one who now goes forth with His armies. The salvation of man is worthless, but the salvation of the God-man, Jesus Christ, is the power that is toppling thrones and dominions.
Therefore, let us not be dismayed by the strength of the enemy. Let us not be tempted by the cheap and worthless solutions offered by the world. Let us rather confess our sins, declare our utter dependence on God, and then, through Him, let us rise up and do valiantly. For it is He, and He alone, who will tread down our adversaries under our feet.