The Great Divorce and the Ultimate Good Text: Psalm 73:27-28
Introduction: The Final Fork in the Road
Every man, whether he knows it or not, is standing at a crossroads. This is not a complicated intersection with a thousand different options, as our postmodern sensibilities would have us believe. It is a simple fork in the road. There are only two ways. There is the way that leads toward God, and there is the way that leads away from Him. Every decision you make, every thought you entertain, every desire you cherish is moving you one direction or the other. There is no neutral ground. You are either drawing near, or you are becoming distant.
The psalmist Asaph, in the verses leading up to our text, has been wrestling with a profound spiritual crisis. He looked out at the world and saw the wicked prospering. They were arrogant, wealthy, and seemingly carefree, while he, a faithful man, was plagued with trouble. His feet almost slipped. He nearly concluded that righteousness was a fool's game. But then he went into the sanctuary of God, and there he gained an eternal perspective. He saw their end. He saw that their prosperity was a slippery slope leading to sudden destruction. His envy was cured by eschatology.
Our text this morning is the grand conclusion of his spiritual education. It is the final summary, the bottom line. Asaph has seen the two paths laid bare, and he presents them to us with stark, unflinching clarity. This is not a sentimental poem; it is a surveyor's report of ultimate reality. It describes what C.S. Lewis called The Great Divorce. There is a final, unbridgeable chasm that separates those who belong to God and those who do not. One path leads to ruin, the other to refuge. One is defined by distance, the other by nearness. And the choice you make between them is the only choice that will matter in the end.
The Text
For, behold, those who are far from You will perish;
You have destroyed everyone who is unfaithful to You.
But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;
I have set Lord Yahweh as my refuge,
That I may recount all Your works.
(Psalm 73:27-28 LSB)
The Peril of Distance (v. 27)
Asaph begins with the grim reality facing those on the wrong road.
"For, behold, those who are far from You will perish; You have destroyed everyone who is unfaithful to You." (Psalm 73:27)
Notice the two descriptions of the lost. They are "far from You," and they are "unfaithful to You." These are two ways of saying the same thing. To be far from God is the definition of unfaithfulness. The Bible frequently uses the metaphor of marriage to describe the covenant relationship between God and His people. Therefore, unfaithfulness to God is spiritual adultery. It is to give the affection, loyalty, and worship that belong to God alone to something or someone else. It is to go "a whoring from thee," as the King James puts it with its typical bluntness.
This is not primarily about breaking a set of abstract rules. It is about betraying a relationship. The modern secularist wants to imagine that he is simply neutral toward God, an objective observer. But the Bible says there is no such thing. To be "far from" God is not a neutral position; it is an act of hostile estrangement. It is to set up other lovers, whether they be money, power, pleasure, or the idol of the self. James puts it this way: "You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God?" (James 4:4). You cannot be a friend of the world and a friend of God. You cannot serve two masters. You are either drawing near to God in faithful love, or you are committing spiritual adultery with the world.
And the end of this road is destruction. "They will perish." This is not an unfortunate accident. It is a direct consequence. God is the source of all life, all goodness, all joy. To be "far from" Him is to be far from the only source of life. It is like a flower cutting itself off from the root, or a branch severing itself from the vine. The perishing is not so much an external punishment inflicted upon them as it is the natural, inevitable result of their chosen alienation. They have chosen the path of death, and God honors their choice. He "destroys" them by giving them what they have insisted on: a universe without Him in it. And that is the definition of Hell.
The Goodness of Nearness (v. 28a)
After showing us the dead end of the path of alienation, Asaph makes a sharp, personal turn. This is the great "but" of the psalm.
"But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;" (Psalm 73:28a)
This is the Christian's final answer to every question of value. What is the good life? What is the chief end of man? Asaph boils it all down to this one, glorious reality: "the nearness of God is my good." Not the nearness of health, or wealth, or comfort, or success. The nearness of God Himself. This is the central discovery of the Christian faith.
The world believes that good is found in things, in experiences, in accomplishments. But the Christian knows that good is found in a Person. The goodness is not in the gifts, but in the Giver. Asaph had been tempted to believe that the good was what the wicked had, their ease and prosperity. But his time in the sanctuary taught him the truth. The ultimate good is not a thing God gives, but the presence of God Himself. "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you" (Psalm 73:25).
This "nearness" is not just a warm, fuzzy feeling. It is a covenantal reality. In Christ, God has drawn near to us. He is Immanuel, God with us. Through the blood of His cross, He has torn down the dividing wall of hostility, so that we who were once "far off" have been brought "near" (Ephesians 2:13). This nearness is our justification. And it is also our sanctification. We are to "draw near to God, and He will draw near to you" (James 4:8). This is the daily business of the Christian life: cultivating this nearness through prayer, through the Word, through fellowship, through the sacraments. Everything else is secondary. The central project of your life is to get nearer to God, because the nearness of God is your good.
The Posture of Faith (v. 28b)
How does one cultivate and maintain this nearness? Asaph tells us his strategy.
"I have set Lord Yahweh as my refuge," (Psalm 73:28b)
To make the Lord your refuge is an act of deliberate, conscious trust. It is to stop taking refuge in all the other things we are tempted to trust. We are all natural born refuge-builders. We build little shelters for ourselves out of our bank accounts, our reputations, our relationships, our political ideologies. We think these things will protect us when the storms come. But Asaph learned that all other ground is sinking sand. The wicked he envied had built their entire lives on the slippery ground of their own strength and arrogance, and their end was ruin.
To set the Lord as your refuge is to abandon all your self-built shelters and run to Him alone for safety. It is a declaration of dependence. It is to say, "When trouble comes, I will not run to my savings. I will not run to my friends. I will not run to distraction or drink. I will run to the Lord." This is what faith looks like in shoe leather. It is a settled decision, a pre-made choice. "I have set" the Lord as my refuge. This is not a decision you make in the middle of the crisis; it is a decision you make now, so that when the crisis comes, your feet already know which way to run.
The Result of Faith (v. 28c)
And what is the result of this life of nearness and trust? What is the fruit?
"That I may recount all Your works." (Psalm 73:28c)
The man who has found his good in the nearness of God, and his safety in the refuge of God, becomes a storyteller of the works of God. His life overflows with testimony. The goal is not simply to be saved, but to be saved for a purpose. And that purpose is declaration. "That I may recount all Your works."
Notice the connection. It is only when you have made God your refuge that you truly have a story to tell. If your refuge is your own cleverness, then when you succeed, you recount your own works. You get the glory. But when you are driven to the end of yourself, when you are forced to take refuge in God alone, and He delivers you, then you have a story that is not about you. You have a story about Him. Your weakness becomes the backdrop for His strength. Your need becomes the stage for His provision. Your sin becomes the canvas for His grace.
This is why we gather for worship. We come to recount His works. We recount His work in creation. We recount His work in redemption, culminating at the cross and the empty tomb. And we recount His works in our own lives, the small and large deliverances of the previous week. The Christian life is a life of perpetual testimony. We are to be constantly gathering stories of God's faithfulness so that we can tell them to our children, to our neighbors, and to the nations. The man who has found his good in God cannot keep quiet about it. His heart is full, and his mouth will speak.
Conclusion: Your Personal "But As For Me"
The psalm ends with this stark choice, this great divorce between two destinies. On one side, those who are far from God, the spiritual adulterers who perish in the emptiness of their own choices. On the other side, the psalmist, who makes his stand with a defiant "But as for me."
This is the choice that confronts every one of you. You cannot avoid it. The world, the flesh, and the devil are constantly trying to lure you away from God, to entice you into spiritual adultery with a thousand glittering idols. They promise you prosperity, autonomy, and pleasure. But Asaph has pulled back the curtain, and he has shown you their end. It is a slippery place that leads to ruin.
Therefore, you must make your own stand. You must plant your flag. You must say, with Asaph, "But as for me, whatever the world does, whatever my faithless heart may be tempted to do, I have made my decision. The nearness of God is my good. I will make Him my only refuge. And I will spend the rest of my days, and all of eternity, recounting the glorious works of the one who brought me near by the blood of His Son." That is the only good life. That is the only safe place. That is the only story worth telling.