History as Theology Text: Psalm 66:5-7
Introduction: God's Public Resume
We live in an age that is profoundly embarrassed by history. Our secularist high priests want to treat the past as a series of unfortunate, unenlightened events, a long list of blunders from which we, the glorious and culminating generation, have finally escaped. They want a God, if they are to have one at all, who is a vague spiritual influence, a cosmic sentiment, or a private therapeutic hobby. They want a God who has never actually done anything.
The God of the Bible will have none of it. The foundation of our faith is not a set of abstract principles or a collection of ethical suggestions. The foundation of our faith is a series of historical events. God has acted. He has gotten His hands dirty in the mud and blood and water of human history. He has a public record. He has a resume, and He is not ashamed to have us review it. The psalmist here issues a public invitation, a challenge really, to do just that. "Come and see." This is not a call to a private, mystical experience. It is a summons to the public square, to the history books, to the evidence.
This psalm is a call to remember what God has done, because what God has done in the past is the bedrock guarantee of what He is doing in the present and what He will most certainly do in the future. He is not a retired God. He is not a God who wound up the clock of the universe and then went on vacation. He is the God who parted the Red Sea, who stopped the Jordan in its tracks, and who, to this day, rules by His might forever. And because this is true, our response must be one of gladness in Him, and the response of His enemies must be to shut their mouths. This is history as theology, history as doxology, and history as a warning.
The Text
Come and see the works of God, Who is fearsome in His deeds toward the sons of men. He turned the sea into dry land; They passed through the river on foot; There let us be glad in Him! He rules by His might forever; His eyes keep watch on the nations; Let not the rebellious exalt themselves. Selah.
(Psalm 66:5-7 LSB)
An Invitation to the Evidence (v. 5)
The psalmist begins with a bold, public summons.
"Come and see the works of God, Who is fearsome in His deeds toward the sons of men." (Psalm 66:5)
This is the empiricism of faith. It is not a blind leap in the dark; it is a clear-eyed look at the data. The psalmist says, "Don't take my word for it. Come and see for yourself." This is the same invitation Philip gave to Nathanael concerning Jesus: "Come and see" (John 1:46). True faith is not afraid of investigation. The works of God are not done in a corner; they are public spectacles.
And what is the nature of these works? They are "fearsome." This is not the cuddly, non-judgmental deity of modern therapeutic religion. This is the God who is a consuming fire. His deeds are awesome, terrible, and awe-inspiring. The Hebrew word here implies something that causes reverence and dread. This is not the fear of a slave before a tyrant, but the awe of a creature before the uncreated Creator. It is the kind of fear that banishes all other fears. If you fear God rightly, you will fear nothing and no one else.
Notice also that His deeds are "toward the sons of men." God is not a distant, deistic clockmaker. He is intimately involved in the affairs of mankind. History is not a random series of accidents; it is the unfolding of His sovereign plan. Every revolution, every election, every war, every famine, and every technological advance happens under His watchful eye and by His decree. He is working all things toward His intended conclusion, and this should be a source of profound comfort for His people and profound terror for His enemies.
Two Miracles (v. 6)
The psalmist then provides two premier, historical exhibits of God's fearsome power.
"He turned the sea into dry land; They passed through the river on foot; There let us be glad in Him!" (Psalm 66:6)
He points back to two foundational events in the history of Israel. The first is the crossing of the Red Sea. This was the great act of redemption that constituted Israel as a nation. God took a horde of slaves, trapped between the most powerful army on earth and an impassable body of water, and He made a way where there was no way. He did not build them a bridge; He split the sea itself. This was a supernatural act of divine warfare. He delivered His people and He drowned their enemies in the same act. The water that was a pathway for Israel became a watery grave for Egypt. This is the gospel in miniature: the cross of Christ is salvation for those who believe, and it is the instrument of judgment for those who persist in their rebellion.
The second exhibit is the crossing of the Jordan River. Forty years later, a new generation stood at the edge of the Promised Land. The Jordan was at flood stage, a raging, impassable torrent. And God did it again. He stopped the flow of the river, piling the waters up in a heap, and His people walked across on dry ground. The Red Sea was their escape from bondage; the Jordan was their entrance into their inheritance. These two events bracket the wilderness wanderings and serve as the historical bookends of their salvation.
And what is the only appropriate response to this kind of historical intervention? "There let us be glad in Him!" Our joy is not rooted in our feelings or our circumstances. Our joy is rooted in the objective, historical acts of our God. We are to rejoice "in Him." We are glad because of who He is and what He has done. This is a robust, sturdy gladness that cannot be shaken by circumstances, because the historical events upon which it is based cannot be undone. God parted the sea. God stopped the river. These are facts. Therefore, rejoice.
The Unblinking Sovereign (v. 7)
From these specific historical acts, the psalmist draws a universal, ongoing conclusion.
"He rules by His might forever; His eyes keep watch on the nations; Let not the rebellious exalt themselves. Selah." (Psalm 66:7)
The God who did those things in the past is not retired. He is not a has-been. "He rules by His might forever." The power He displayed at the Red Sea was not a one-time trick. It is His essential, eternal nature. He is the potentate. He is the sovereign. His rule is not temporary, it is not contingent on a vote, and it will never end.
And His rule is not limited to Israel. "His eyes keep watch on the nations." Every nation, every parliament, every king, every president, every dictator is under His constant, unblinking surveillance. He sees the secret deals, He hears the arrogant boasts, He knows the wicked schemes. The nations rage and the peoples plot in vain, because the Lord who sits in the heavens holds them in derision. This is the foundation of a robust political theology. We are not to be terrified by the machinations of earthly powers, because there is a higher throne. All earthly authority is delegated and temporary.
This leads to the final, sharp warning: "Let not the rebellious exalt themselves." This is a direct address to all who would set themselves up against God and His anointed. To the proud atheist, to the tyrannical magistrate, to the cultural revolutionary, to the sexual anarchist, God says, "Do not lift yourself up." Why? Because He who sits on the throne has a long and well-documented history of putting down the proud. Pharaoh exalted himself, and he ended up as fish food. The Canaanite kings exalted themselves, and their kingdoms were given to another. Sennacherib exalted himself, and an angel dealt with his army in one night. Nebuchadnezzar exalted himself, and he was made to eat grass like an ox. Herod exalted himself, and he was eaten by worms. The lesson of history is plain: you cannot fight God and win.
The psalmist ends with "Selah." Pause. Think about that. Let the weight of it sink in. The God of history is the God of right now, and He will not be mocked.
From Jordan to Golgotha
As Christians, we read this psalm through the lens of the ultimate historical event: the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The Red Sea and the Jordan River were types, shadows, pointing forward to a greater deliverance.
We too were slaves, not to Pharaoh, but to sin and death. We were trapped, with the demands of God's holy law behind us and the certainty of eternal judgment before us. There was no way of escape. But God, in Christ, did the ultimate "fearsome deed." He parted the sea of His own wrath. On the cross, Jesus absorbed the flood of divine judgment that we deserved. He walked through the valley of the shadow of death for us, and He came out the other side, on the dry ground of the resurrection.
Baptism is our Red Sea. In it, we are united with Christ in His death and resurrection. We pass through the waters of judgment, and our old master, sin, is drowned. We are brought out of bondage and into the wilderness of our Christian pilgrimage. And the Lord's Supper is our Jordan. It is the meal that strengthens us as we enter into our inheritance, fighting the battles of faith. We look back at the cross, our Red Sea, and we look forward to the Promised Land, the consummated kingdom.
Therefore, we can be glad in Him. Our joy is not based on a myth, but on the historical fact of an empty tomb in Jerusalem. And because our risen Lord now rules by His might forever, because He has been given all authority in heaven and on earth, we can face the rebellious nations of our day with confidence. The tin-pot dictators and the arrogant ideologues who exalt themselves are on the wrong side of history. They are picking a fight with the God who commands the oceans and the rivers. Their end is not in doubt.
So come and see. Look at the cross. Look at the empty tomb. These are the works of God. They are fearsome deeds. And in them, let us be glad in Him, forever.