Commentary - Psalm 69:29-36

Bird's-eye view

This closing section of Psalm 69 marks a dramatic turn. After a long and harrowing descent into the depths of affliction, reproach, and imprecation against his enemies, the psalmist, who is ultimately a type of Christ, lifts his head. The movement is from profound personal pain to certain divine salvation, and then explodes outward into corporate praise and cosmic restoration. This is the logic of the gospel in miniature. The pivot point is the sufferer's resolve to praise God, not after the deliverance, but in the midst of the pain. This praise, born of faith, is declared to be more pleasing to God than the prescribed sacrifices of the Levitical code. The deliverance of this one afflicted man becomes the basis for the gladness of all the humble, the revival of all who seek God, and ultimately, the salvation and rebuilding of Zion itself. The passage concludes with a promise of a lasting inheritance for the faithful, grounding the hope of God's people not in their own strength, but in God's saving action on behalf of His afflicted servant.

In short, David, and David's greater Son, goes down into the pit, and from the pit He resolves to praise. That resolve, that act of faith, is the lever that moves the world. It secures a salvation that not only lifts Him up but also revives the hearts of all the needy, rebuilds the city of God, and secures a covenantal inheritance for all who love His name. This is the pattern of the cross and resurrection, which secures the new creation.

Outline

Context In The Psalms

Psalm 69 is one of the most frequently quoted psalms in the New Testament, and for good reason. It is a profound messianic psalm detailing the sufferings of Christ. The Lord Jesus Himself, and His apostles after Him, saw His experience prefigured in the zeal, the reproach, the thirst, and the betrayal described in this psalm (e.g., John 2:17; John 15:25; Rom 15:3; Matt 27:34, 48). The psalm begins with a desperate cry for salvation from overwhelming floods of trouble. The psalmist is hated without cause because of his zeal for God's house. The first 28 verses are a raw and honest lament, culminating in some of the most severe imprecations found in the Psalter. The section we are considering (vv. 29-36) is the great reversal. The storm of lament and imprecation breaks, and the sun of praise and confident hope shines through. This movement from suffering to glory is a central theme of the entire Psalter, and it finds its ultimate expression here, pointing forward to the one who endured the cross for the joy that was set before Him.

Key Issues

From the Pit to the Pinnacle

There is a word that changes everything, and that word is "But." After twenty-eight verses of sinking in deep mire, of being hated, of reproach breaking his heart, the psalmist says, "But I am afflicted and in pain." He doesn't deny his circumstances. He looks them square in the face. But then he looks up. This is the crucial pivot. The entire psalm, and indeed the entire gospel, turns on this point. The sufferer, in the midst of his suffering, casts himself upon God's salvation and resolves to praise Him. This is not cheap optimism. This is rugged, battle-tested faith. It is the faith that says, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." And it is this faith-filled praise, offered from the depths, that God values above all the bulls and goats of the formal sacrificial system. This is where the new creation begins: not in a palace, but in a pit, with a song of thanksgiving.

Verse by Verse Commentary

29 But I am afflicted and in pain; May Your salvation, O God, set me securely on high.

Here is the turn. The psalmist does not pretend his situation is anything other than what it is: he is afflicted, poor, and in sorrow. The Hebrew word for afflicted (ani) carries the sense of being humbled, lowly, and oppressed. He is at the bottom. But from the bottom, he looks to the top. His prayer is that God's salvation would not just rescue him, but "set me securely on high." This is a prayer for exaltation, for vindication. For David, this was a prayer to be lifted out of the reach of his enemies and established on the throne. For the Lord Jesus, this was the prayer from the cross that looked ahead to the resurrection and ascension, where God would highly exalt Him and bestow on Him the name that is above every name (Phil 2:9).

30 I will praise the name of God with song And magnify Him with thanksgiving.

Notice the verb tense. "I will praise." This is not a reaction to a completed deliverance; it is a resolution made in the midst of the trial. He is deciding to praise. This is the sacrifice of praise. And how will he do it? With song and with thanksgiving. Song gives our praise a body, a form, an external reality. Thanksgiving is the engine of the song; it is the grateful recognition of who God is and what He has done, is doing, and will do. To "magnify" God is not to make a small God big, but to make a great God appear as great as He truly is. Our praise is the lens that brings the distant majesty of God into clear focus for ourselves and for those around us.

31 And this will please Yahweh better than an ox Or a young bull with horns and hoofs.

This is a radical statement in the context of the Old Covenant. The sacrificial system was ordained by God. An unblemished young bull was a costly and significant offering. But the psalmist, speaking by the Spirit, understands what God has always desired. As Samuel told Saul, "to obey is better than sacrifice." God desires the heart. A song of genuine, heartfelt thanksgiving from a sufferer is more precious to God than the most expensive animal sacrifice offered by rote. The "horns and hoofs" detail emphasizes the perfection and maturity of the animal, the best that could be offered. Yet, it is nothing compared to a broken and contrite heart offering up praise. This verse anticipates the gospel, where the whole sacrificial system is fulfilled and set aside for the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ and the subsequent spiritual sacrifices of praise from His people (Heb 13:15).

32 The humble see it and are glad; You who seek God, let your heart revive.

The deliverance of the one has a ripple effect on the many. When the afflicted (anawim, a word related to the one in v. 29) see this great reversal, they are glad. Why? Because they see that God is the kind of God who helps people like them. The salvation of one humble man becomes the hope of all humble people. It is an encouragement to all "who seek God." The psalmist turns and addresses them directly: "let your heart revive." Literally, "may your heart live." The sight of God's faithfulness in action is spiritual CPR for the faint-hearted. When we see Christ raised from the dead and set on high, our hearts, dead in sin, are made to live again.

33 For Yahweh hears the needy And does not despise His who are prisoners.

This is the theological foundation for the previous verse's encouragement. Why should the humble be glad? Why should the seekers' hearts revive? Because of the character of God. Yahweh is a God who hears the needy. He is not a distant, aloof deity. He inclines His ear to the cry of the poor. Furthermore, He "does not despise His who are prisoners." In that culture, to be a prisoner was to be shamed, despised, and forgotten. But God does not share that contempt. Whether the prison is literal or metaphorical, a prison of circumstance, of sin, of despair, God does not look down on His captive people. This was true for Joseph in the dungeon, for Jeremiah in the cistern, and supremely for Jesus in the tomb. God does not despise His prisoner; He raises Him up.

34 Let heaven and earth praise Him, The seas and everything that moves in them.

The praise that began in the heart of one afflicted man now expands to fill the entire cosmos. This is the proper response to such a great salvation. It is not a private affair. The deliverance of God's servant is an event of cosmic significance, and so the whole of creation is summoned to join the chorus. This is a common theme in the Psalms and the Prophets. When God acts to save His people, all creation, which groans under the curse of sin, has reason to rejoice. The redemption of man is the prelude to the redemption of the cosmos itself (Rom 8:19-21).

35 For God will save Zion and build the cities of Judah, That they may dwell there and possess it.

The logic continues to expand. The salvation of the king ("me," v. 29) leads to the salvation of the people ("the humble," v. 32), which in turn leads to the salvation and restoration of the entire nation, represented by Zion and the cities of Judah. God's plan is not just to save isolated individuals, but to build a city, a society, a kingdom. For David's original audience, this was a promise of political and national security. In the new covenant, this points to the building of the Church, the new Jerusalem. God will save His people and establish them as a holy city, a secure dwelling place where they may live in His presence and possess their inheritance.

36 The seed of His slaves will inherit it, And those who love His name will dwell in it.

The promise is not just for one generation, but is a lasting, covenantal promise. It extends to the "seed of His slaves" or servants. This is covenant language through and through. The inheritance is passed down to the children. And who are these children? They are identified not by their ethnic bloodline alone, but by their spiritual character: they are "those who love His name." To love God's name is to love His character, His reputation, His self-revelation. This is the true mark of a child of the covenant. The ultimate fulfillment of this is in the gospel, where all who are united to Christ by faith become the seed of Abraham and heirs according to the promise (Gal 3:29). They are the ones who will dwell securely in the city of God forever.

Application

This passage teaches us the grammar of the Christian life. It begins with affliction. We live in a fallen world, and we will have trouble. We are afflicted by our own sin, by the sins of others, and by the general brokenness of creation. The world's advice is to despair, or to distract ourselves. The Stoic's advice is to grit our teeth. But the Bible's counsel is to turn our affliction into a prayer and our prayer into a resolve to praise.

We must learn to praise God in the storm, not just after it passes. This kind of praise, born of faith in the character of God, is what truly pleases Him. It is a sacrifice that costs us our pride and our self-pity, and God loves it. When we do this, when we magnify God in our trouble, it does not just affect us. It encourages the other humble saints who are watching. Your faithfulness in trial is a sermon to your brothers and sisters. It reminds them that God hears the needy and does not despise His prisoners, and it causes their hearts to revive.

And finally, we must see that our small, personal story of salvation is part of a much grander story. God is not just saving you; He is saving Zion. He is building His Church. He is preparing a city for all those who love His name. Your deliverance from a particular sin, your rescue from a particular despair, is one small brick in the building of the new Jerusalem. Therefore, when God lifts you up, make sure the praise expands outward, inviting all of creation to see what a great and faithful God we serve.