The Righteousness of a Refuge Text: Psalm 71:1-4
Introduction: A Geriatric Faith
We live in a culture that worships youth and despises the aged. We hide our elderly away in sterile facilities, and we celebrate the vapid pronouncements of teenage celebrities. The world fears gray hair and wrinkles because it fears death, and it fears death because it has no answer for what comes after. But the Christian faith is not a faith for the young only. It is a faith for the entire course of a man's life, from the womb to the tomb, and this psalm is a glorious testament to that reality. This is the prayer of an old saint, a man who has walked with God for decades. His strength is failing, his enemies are circling, and they are using his advanced age as a taunt. "God hath forsaken him," they say, "persecute and take him; for there is none to deliver him" (v. 11). Their logic is the logic of the world: if you are weak, you are worthless, and God must be finished with you.
But the psalmist's faith is not in his own strength, which is admittedly failing. His faith is in the unchanging character of his covenant-keeping God. This psalm is a master class in how a believer is to think and pray when the walls are closing in. He does not appeal to his own track record, though he has one. He does not appeal to his own feelings, which are likely frayed. He appeals to the bedrock of all reality: the name and righteousness of God Himself. He is not whistling in the dark; he is standing on a rock. And in these first four verses, he lays the foundation for his entire appeal. He defines the relationship, identifies the basis of his plea, and names his enemies. This is not the prayer of a desperate man trying to invent a reason for God to act. This is the prayer of a son, reminding his Father of the family name and the family honor.
We must learn to pray like this. Our culture of expressive individualism teaches us to look inward for our strength and our identity. The Scriptures teach us to look upward. The psalmist is not trying to muster up some internal fortitude. He is taking refuge. He is running into a fortress that is outside of himself. This is the fundamental posture of faith. It is a declaration of dependence. And as we shall see, this dependence is the most secure position a man can possibly be in.
The Text
In You, O Yahweh, I have taken refuge; Let me never be ashamed.
In Your righteousness deliver me and protect me; Incline Your ear to me and save me.
Be to me a rock of habitation to which I may continually come; You have given the command to save me, For You are my rock and my fortress.
Protect me, O my God, out of the hand of the wicked, Out of the grasp of the unrighteous and ruthless man.
(Psalm 71:1-4 LSB)
The Posture of Faith (v. 1)
We begin with the psalmist's foundational declaration:
"In You, O Yahweh, I have taken refuge; Let me never be ashamed." (Psalm 71:1)
The first clause is the thesis statement for the entire Christian life. "In You, O Yahweh, I have taken refuge." Faith is a flight. It is a running out of ourselves and into God. The word for refuge here means to flee for protection, to seek shelter. It presupposes two things: first, that there is a mortal danger outside, and second, that there is absolute safety inside. The psalmist is not a spiritual tourist sampling the local deities. He is a refugee, running for his life to the only place of safety in the entire cosmos, which is the character of the covenant God, Yahweh.
Because he has taken refuge in God, he can then pray, "Let me never be ashamed." This is not a prayer against minor embarrassment. The shame he speaks of is the ultimate, public disgrace of having his trust proven to be misplaced. If God does not come through for him, it will not just be the psalmist who is humiliated; the name of God will be dragged through the mud. His enemies will say, "See? We told you. His God is a fiction. His faith was a fool's errand." This is why this is a covenantal prayer. He is essentially saying, "Lord, for Your own name's sake, vindicate my trust in You." The one who trusts in the Lord will never be put to shame, not because the believer is so stalwart, but because God is so faithful. His reputation is on the line.
This is a profound comfort. When we place our faith in Christ, we are not making a risky bet. We are placing our full weight on the faithfulness of God. If we are ultimately shamed, it means that God has failed, that His promises are worthless, and that the entire gospel is a lie. But God cannot lie. He cannot be unfaithful. Therefore, our position in Him is eternally secure. The world thinks faith is a leap in the dark. The Bible teaches that faith is a step into the only light there is.
The Basis of Deliverance (v. 2)
Next, the psalmist establishes the grounds for his appeal. It is not his own merit, but God's character.
"In Your righteousness deliver me and protect me; Incline Your ear to me and save me." (Psalm 71:2 LSB)
This is a doctrinally dense and glorious petition. Notice what he does not say. He does not say, "Because I have been so righteous, deliver me." He says, "In Your righteousness deliver me." He is appealing to God's own perfect, unswerving commitment to what is right. God's righteousness is not some abstract standard floating out in the ether. God's righteousness is His covenant faithfulness. It is His unwavering commitment to uphold His own name and to keep His own promises. When God saves His people, He is not setting aside His righteousness; He is demonstrating it. He has promised to be their God and to protect them. To fail to do so would be unrighteous. It would be a violation of His own character.
This is the heart of the gospel. How can a just God save unjust sinners? Because in the cross, God's righteousness was fully satisfied. Jesus Christ, in His perfect life, fulfilled all righteousness on our behalf. In His substitutionary death, He absorbed the full measure of God's righteous wrath against our sin. Therefore, God can be both "just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus" (Romans 3:26). When we pray for deliverance, we are not asking God to grade on a curve. We are pointing to the finished work of Christ and saying, "On the basis of Your Son's perfect righteousness, which has been credited to my account, be righteous and save me." This is a blood-bought, legal claim. It is an appeal to the highest court that cannot be overturned.
The petitions flow from this foundation: "deliver me," "protect me," "incline Your ear," "save me." He is surrounded, and he knows that his only hope is a divine intervention. He needs God to stoop down, to listen to his case, and to act decisively. This is not the language of equals. This is the cry of a creature to his Creator, a subject to his King.
The Nature of God (v. 3)
The prayer continues, piling up metaphors to describe the security he finds in God.
"Be to me a rock of habitation to which I may continually come; You have given the command to save me, For You are my rock and my fortress." (Genesis 1:3 LSB)
The imagery here is of stability and permanence in a world of chaos. "Be to me a rock of habitation." This is not just a rock to hide behind in a skirmish. It is a place to live, a permanent dwelling place carved out of solid stone. It is a home that cannot be shaken by the storms of life or the assaults of the enemy. And it is a place to which he "may continually come." Our access to God is not intermittent. It is not based on our performance. Because of Christ, the way into the holiest of all has been thrown open, and we can come boldly, and continually, to the throne of grace.
And this security is not wishful thinking. It is based on a divine decree. "You have given the command to save me." The psalmist understands God's sovereignty. His salvation does not hang by the thread of human whims or historical accidents. It is grounded in a divine command, an unalterable word from the King of the universe. When God commands something, reality rearranges itself to comply. He spoke, and light appeared. He commands salvation, and salvation is accomplished. This is the bedrock of assurance.
He concludes the verse by reiterating his confession: "For You are my rock and my fortress." This is not just poetic flourish. A rock is an unmovable, unshakeable foundation. A fortress is a military stronghold, designed for defense against attack. God is both. He is our stability and our security. He is the ground beneath our feet and the walls around us. The world offers shifting sands and flimsy cardboard defenses. God offers Himself as an impregnable reality.
The Identity of the Enemy (v. 4)
Finally, the psalmist clearly identifies the source of the threat from which he needs deliverance.
"Protect me, O my God, out of the hand of the wicked, Out of the grasp of the unrighteous and ruthless man." (Psalm 71:4 LSB)
It is crucial that we understand the biblical worldview here. The world is not divided between nice people and not-so-nice people. It is divided between the righteous and the wicked. The psalmist is not being uncharitable; he is being realistic. He is facing men who are "wicked," "unrighteous," and "ruthless." These are not people who have simply made a few bad choices. Their character is defined by their rebellion against God. The wicked man is one who is on the wrong side of God's law. The unrighteous man is one who is crooked, who deals in injustice. The ruthless man is one who is cruel, violent, and without mercy.
Notice the language of "hand" and "grasp." This is a picture of being seized, of being in the power of another. The enemy seeks to control, to crush, to dominate. This is the nature of evil. It cannot create; it can only corrupt and control. The psalmist's plea is to be snatched out of that grip. He recognizes that he cannot break free on his own. He needs a stronger hand to intervene.
This is a picture of our salvation. We were in the grasp of a wicked, unrighteous, and ruthless enemy. Satan, the god of this age, held us in his hand. We were slaves to sin and death. But God, in His great mercy, reached down and protected us. He broke the grasp of the enemy and transferred us from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of His beloved Son. Our deliverance was a rescue mission, a jailbreak orchestrated by Almighty God.
Conclusion: The Logic of Refuge
These four verses provide a complete and sufficient theology of prayer in the midst of trial. What do we do when we are old, and weak, and surrounded by a world that hates our God? We do what the psalmist does.
First, we run to God. We declare our total dependence on Him as our only refuge. We abandon all trust in our own resources, our own cleverness, our own strength.
Second, we plead His righteousness. We anchor our prayers not in our deserving, but in His covenant faithfulness. We remind Him of His promises, and we appeal to Him to act in a way that is consistent with His own perfect character, a character most perfectly revealed at the cross of His Son.
Third, we confess His nature. We remind ourselves that He is our rock, our fortress, our permanent home. We build our confidence on the unshakeable reality of who He is. He is not a flimsy god made of wood or stone; He is the ground of all being.
And last, we identify our enemy. We do not pretend that we are just dealing with a misunderstanding. We are at war with a spiritual foe who is wicked, unrighteous, and ruthless. And we call upon our God, the mighty warrior, to deliver us from his grasp.
This is not a prayer that God might answer. This is a prayer that, on the basis of His own name and His own Son, He must answer. This is the confidence we have: that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And there is no prayer more according to His will than this one: "Father, for the glory of Your own name, because of the righteousness of Your own Son, be my refuge and deliver me."