The Savior in the Mire Text: Psalm 69:1-4
Introduction: A Messianic Complaint
The book of Psalms is the prayer book of the church, and it is also the prayer book of our Lord Jesus Christ. We learn much about our own afflictions from the Psalms, but we must never forget that we learn even more about our Lord's afflictions. Some psalms are explicitly Messianic, meaning the New Testament quotes them and applies them directly to Jesus. Psalm 69 is one of the most frequently quoted psalms in the New Testament, right up there with Psalm 22 and Psalm 110. This means that when we read these words of deep distress, we are not just reading about David's troubles with Saul or Absalom. We are being given a window into the soul of the Messiah in His passion. David's life was a type, a lived-out prophecy, of the greater Son of David to come. But we must always remember the crucial difference: David was a sinner, and his Son was sinless. This psalm, therefore, is David's complaint, but it is ultimately the Lord's complaint.
This is a song for the afflicted. It is for those who feel like they are sinking, for those who are weary of crying out, for those who are hated for no good reason. But it is more than just a song of commiseration. It is a song that finds its ultimate meaning and resolution in the person and work of Jesus Christ. He is the one who truly sank into the deep mire for us. He is the one who was hated without cause so that we might be loved without condition. He is the one who restored what He did not steal, paying a debt He did not owe because we owed a debt we could not pay.
So as we come to these first four verses, we are laying out the complaint. The psalmist is in deep trouble, and he is laying it all out before God. This is not faithless whining; this is covenantal complaint. He is bringing his trouble to the only one who can do anything about it. This is what faith does when it is drowning. It cries out to God.
The Text
Save me, O God, For the waters have threatened my life.
I have sunk in deep clay, and there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me.
I am weary with my calling out; my throat is parched; My eyes fail while I wait for my God.
Those who hate me without cause are more than the hairs of my head; Those who would destroy me are powerful, being wrongfully my enemies; What I did not steal, I then have to restore.
(Psalm 69:1-4 LSB)
Overwhelmed by the Flood (vv. 1-2)
The psalm opens with a desperate cry for help, using the powerful imagery of drowning.
"Save me, O God, For the waters have threatened my life. I have sunk in deep clay, and there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me." (Psalm 69:1-2)
The psalmist, David, is not simply having a bad day. The waters have come up "to my soul," as some translations have it. This is not a surface-level problem; it is an existential crisis that threatens his very being. The imagery is of a man caught in a flash flood, sinking in a mire of clay where there is no solid ground, no purchase for his feet. He is utterly helpless, and the waters are rising over his head.
This is a picture of overwhelming affliction. The Bible often uses the imagery of chaotic waters to represent the forces of godlessness and judgment. Think of the great flood in Noah's day, or the Red Sea crashing down on the Egyptians. For the psalmist, his enemies and his circumstances are this flood. He is completely out of his depth, with no ability to save himself. This is where true prayer begins, not when we think we can manage with a little help from God, but when we know that unless God intervenes, we are finished.
But we must see the Lord Jesus here. Who sank deeper than He did? He sank into the mire of our sin. He went down into the deep waters of God's wrath against that sin. On the cross, the flood of divine judgment, which we deserved, overflowed Him. He cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" because He was truly sinking under the weight of our transgression. He went into the abyss so that we might be set on high ground. He endured the chaos so that we might have peace. When you feel you are sinking, remember that your Savior has been to the bottom and has come out the other side, and He holds you fast.
Exhausted by the Wait (v. 3)
The affliction is not just intense; it is prolonged. The waiting itself becomes part of the trial.
"I am weary with my calling out; my throat is parched; My eyes fail while I wait for my God." (Psalm 69:3 LSB)
There is a physical exhaustion that comes with sustained, desperate prayer. He has been crying out to God for so long that his voice is gone, his throat is raw. His eyes are failing, not from weeping, but from straining, looking for the deliverance of God that has not yet come. This is the trial of unanswered prayer. It is one thing to trust God for five minutes; it is another thing to trust Him when the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, and still the heavens are silent.
This is a profound encouragement to us. The Bible is realistic about the life of faith. It is not a series of uninterrupted victories. There are long, dark nights of the soul where all you can do is wait, and even the waiting is exhausting. But notice what he is doing. He is waiting for his God. The relationship is still there, even when the feelings are frayed and the body is spent. His hope is not in his circumstances, but in his God.
And again, we look to Christ. Think of His agony in the garden of Gethsemane, praying with such intensity that His sweat was like great drops of blood. Think of Him on the cross, His body wracked with pain, parched with a thirst so profound that it fulfilled this very psalm: "in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink" (Ps. 69:21). His eyes failed in the darkness that covered the land as He waited for His God, who had turned His face away. He endured the ultimate weariness, the ultimate waiting, so that our hope in God would never ultimately fail.
Hated Without Cause (v. 4)
Now the psalmist identifies the source of the floodwaters: the unjust hatred of his enemies. And in doing so, he speaks prophetically of Christ.
"Those who hate me without cause are more than the hairs of my head; Those who would destroy me are powerful, being wrongfully my enemies; What I did not steal, I then have to restore." (Psalm 69:4 LSB)
The affliction is not the result of some personal failing or foolishness on David's part. No, the hatred is "without cause." It is gratuitous, irrational malice. And it is not a small problem. His enemies are innumerable, "more than the hairs of my head," and they are "powerful." This is not a fair fight. He is outnumbered and outgunned.
The Lord Jesus quotes this very verse in the upper room, applying it directly to Himself. "But this happened that the word might be fulfilled which is written in their law, 'They hated Me without a cause'" (John 15:25). The world's hatred of Christ was utterly groundless. He healed their sick, fed their hungry, and taught them the truth. In response, they screamed for His crucifixion. This is the nature of sin. It does not need a reason to hate righteousness; it hates righteousness for being righteous. When you are a Christian and you experience opposition, not because you are being obnoxious, but simply because you belong to Christ, you are sharing in His sufferings. You are being hated without a cause, for His sake.
The verse ends with a stunningly profound statement: "What I did not steal, I then have to restore." In David's case, he was likely being falsely accused of treason or some other crime, and was being forced to pay reparations for something he never did. It is the height of injustice. But in the mouth of Christ, this phrase becomes the gospel in miniature. He who knew no sin was made to be sin for us. He lived a life of perfect obedience to God's law; He stole nothing from God's glory. And yet, on the cross, He was treated as the ultimate thief. He had to restore what He did not steal. He paid the debt of our sin. He restored the honor to God that we had stolen through our rebellion. This is the great doctrine of substitutionary atonement. The innocent one takes the place of the guilty, and pays their restitution in full, with the twenty percent penalty added, and then some. He restores what we took, and in doing so, purchases our everlasting salvation.
Conclusion: Our Only Hope
These opening verses of Psalm 69 plunge us into the depths of human suffering and injustice. We feel the rising water, the sinking mire, the exhaustion of waiting, the sting of baseless hatred. In all this, we find a companion in David, a man after God's own heart who was no stranger to grief.
But more than that, we find our Savior. This is not just David's story; it is a prophetic glimpse into the passion of the Lord Jesus. He is the one who was truly overwhelmed, truly exhausted, truly hated, and who truly paid for a crime He did not commit. He did this so that when we find ourselves in the mire, we would have a high priest who can sympathize with our weakness. He did this so that our desperate cries of "Save me, O God," would be answered, not based on our merit, but based on His.
Therefore, when the waters threaten your life, look to the one who walked on the water. When you sink in the mire, look to the one who was lifted up from the grave. When you are hated without cause, rejoice that you are counted worthy to share in the reproach of Christ. And when you consider the debt of your sin, a debt you could never repay, look to the one who restored what He did not steal, and praise Him.