When God Goes Dark Text: Psalm 74:1-11
Introduction: The Logic of Lament
We live in a sentimental age, an age that has forgotten how to lament properly. Our prayers, when things go wrong, tend to be either whiny and self-pitying, or stoic and tight-lipped. We either treat God like a cosmic therapist whose job is to validate our feelings, or we treat Him like a distant landlord we are afraid to bother. But the Psalms, and this psalm in particular, teach us a different way. They teach us the grammar of righteous, covenantal complaint. This is not the grumbling of unbelief in the wilderness; this is the cry of a son to his father, a son who knows he has a right to be heard precisely because of the covenant his Father has made.
Psalm 74 is a national lament. The sanctuary, the dwelling place of God's name, has been desecrated and destroyed. The enemy has run rampant, and it appears to all the world that God has abandoned His people. The signs are gone, the prophets are silent, and the central question hangs heavy in the smoky air: "How long, O God?" This is a prayer from the rubble. It is a prayer offered when it looks for all the world like God has been defeated, like His promises have failed, and like His anger against His own sheep is permanent.
But we must see that this is not a crisis of faith, but rather an expression of it. The psalmist, Asaph, is not questioning whether God exists or whether He is powerful. He is arguing with God on the basis of God's own character and promises. He is, in effect, grabbing God by His covenantal lapels and saying, "Remember Your congregation! Remember Mount Zion! Look at what they have done to Your house!" This is the logic of faith. Unbelief sees the ruins and concludes that God is dead or uncaring. Faith sees the ruins, knows that God is a covenant-keeping God, and therefore demands that He act in accordance with His own name and reputation.
This psalm forces us to confront the hard providence of God. It forces us to ask what it means when God appears to reject His people, when His anger smokes against the sheep of His own pasture. And as we shall see, the answer is not that His promises have failed, but that they are being fulfilled in a way that is deeper and more terrifying and ultimately more glorious than we could have imagined. The destruction of the earthly temple was a necessary prelude to the revelation of the true Temple, the body of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The Text
Why, O God? Have You rejected us forever? Why does Your anger smoke against the sheep of Your pasture? Remember Your congregation, which You have purchased of old, Which You have redeemed to be the tribe of Your inheritance; And this Mount Zion, where You have dwelt. Lift up Your steps toward the perpetual ruins; The enemy has damaged everything within the sanctuary. Your adversaries have roared in the midst of Your meeting place; They have set up their own signs for signs. Each seems like one who lifts up An axe against the undergrowth of trees. And now its carved work altogether They smash with hatchet and hammers. They have set Your sanctuary on fire; By bringing it to the ground, they have defiled the dwelling place of Your name. They said in their heart, "Let us completely subdue them." They have burned all the meeting places of God in the land. We do not see our signs; There is no longer any prophet, Nor is there any among us who knows how long. How long, O God, will the adversary reproach? Will the enemy spurn Your name forever? Why do You turn back Your hand, even Your right hand? From within Your bosom, destroy them!
(Psalm 74:1-11 LSB)
The Covenantal Complaint (v. 1-2)
The psalm opens with a series of raw, urgent questions directed straight at God.
"Why, O God? Have You rejected us forever? Why does Your anger smoke against the sheep of Your pasture? Remember Your congregation, which You have purchased of old, Which You have redeemed to be the tribe of Your inheritance; And this Mount Zion, where You have dwelt." (Psalm 74:1-2)
The psalmist begins with the hardest question: "Why?" This is not a detached, philosophical inquiry. This is the cry of a wounded child. He asks if God's rejection is "forever." This is faith arguing in the dark. He knows God has promised not to cast off His people forever, so he brings this apparent contradiction to God Himself. The question is a challenge based on God's own word.
Notice the metaphor: "the sheep of Your pasture." This is potent. Sheep are helpless. They are utterly dependent on the shepherd for protection and provision. When a shepherd is angry with his own sheep, what hope do they have? This is a picture of complete vulnerability. The psalmist is saying, "We are Yours. We belong to You. Your anger against us feels like a fundamental violation of the natural order of things."
And then, in verse 2, he lays the foundation for his entire appeal. He doesn't appeal to Israel's inherent goodness or their track record of faithfulness. That would be a fool's errand. Instead, he appeals to God's past actions and God's sovereign choice. He says, "Remember." This is not to jog God's memory, as though the Almighty were forgetful. It is a rhetorical device, calling on God to act consistently with who He is and what He has done. He bases his appeal on three mighty acts of God. First, God "purchased" them of old, a reference to the Exodus. Second, He "redeemed" them to be His inheritance. Israel is God's treasured possession. Third, He chose to "dwell" with them on Mount Zion. The psalmist is stacking up God's covenant commitments. The argument is this: "You bought us. You redeemed us. You moved in with us. You cannot now act as though we are nothing to You. Your reputation is at stake."
A Tour of the Desolation (v. 3-8)
Asaph then invites God, as it were, to walk through the rubble and see what the enemy has done.
"Lift up Your steps toward the perpetual ruins; The enemy has damaged everything within the sanctuary. Your adversaries have roared in the midst of Your meeting place; They have set up their own signs for signs." (Psalm 74:3-4)
The ruins are "perpetual." From a human standpoint, the damage looks permanent, irreparable. The enemy has been thorough. And the heart of the offense is the desecration of the sanctuary, God's "meeting place." Where the songs of Zion once ascended, the adversaries now "roar" like savage animals. Their victory shouts echo in the place where God's people once met with Him.
And in a profound insult, they have replaced God's signs with their own. "They have set up their own signs for signs." This is the essence of idolatry and rebellion. God's signs were the ark, the table, the lampstand, all pointing to His presence and His covenant. The enemy comes in and plants his own flags, his own idolatrous standards, in the holy place. This is a direct challenge to God's sovereignty. It is a public declaration that another lord now reigns here. Every worldview does this. It comes into God's world and tries to replace His definitions, His standards, His signs, with its own cheap substitutes.
The destruction is described with vivid, violent imagery.
"Each seems like one who lifts up An axe against the undergrowth of trees. And now its carved work altogether They smash with hatchet and hammers. They have set Your sanctuary on fire; By bringing it to the ground, they have defiled the dwelling place of Your name." (Psalm 74:5-7)
The beautiful, intricate carved work of the temple, likely depicting pomegranates and palms, symbols of God's garden-sanctuary, is smashed with brutish force. The invaders are like lumberjacks clear-cutting a forest. There is no appreciation for beauty, only a lust for destruction. And the ultimate violation: fire. They have "set Your sanctuary on fire," and in doing so, "defiled the dwelling place of Your name." The issue is not ultimately about the real estate. It is about the name, the reputation, the glory of God. The enemy's goal is not just to conquer a people, but to humiliate their God.
Their arrogant intent is laid bare in verse 8.
"They said in their heart, 'Let us completely subdue them.' They have burned all the meeting places of God in the land." (Psalm 74:8)
The enemy's ambition was total. Not just the central sanctuary in Jerusalem, but "all the meeting places of God in the land," likely referring to local synagogues or places of instruction. The goal was to entirely erase the worship of Yahweh from the land. This is the satanic ambition in every generation: to silence the praise of God, to burn His churches, to destroy His law, and to blot out His name.
The Silence of God (v. 9-11)
The external desolation is matched by an internal, spiritual desolation. The people are cut off from any reassuring word from God.
"We do not see our signs; There is no longer any prophet, Nor is there any among us who knows how long." (Genesis 74:9)
The covenant "signs" are gone. The visible reminders of God's presence have been destroyed. Worse, the prophetic voice has fallen silent. There is "no longer any prophet." This is one of the most terrifying judgments God can bring upon a people: the famine of the Word of God (Amos 8:11). When God stops talking, it is a sign of profound displeasure. There is no one to interpret the disaster, no one to give a divine perspective, no one who "knows how long" the suffering will last. They are left in the dark, with only the smoking ruins and the deafening silence of heaven.
This agonizing silence leads to the central cry of the psalm.
"How long, O God, will the adversary reproach? Will the enemy spurn Your name forever? Why do You turn back Your hand, even Your right hand? From within Your bosom, destroy them!" (Genesis 74:10-11)
Again, the question is "How long?" But notice the focus. It is not primarily about Israel's suffering, but about God's honor. "How long will the adversary reproach?" How long will the enemy "spurn Your name forever?" The psalmist's chief concern is the public defamation of God's character. He then turns to God's apparent inaction. "Why do you turn back Your hand, even Your right hand?" The right hand is the symbol of power and action. It appears to the psalmist that God has withdrawn His power, tucked His hand safely into His robe, and is passively watching the blasphemous spectacle unfold.
The psalm ends this section with a raw, shocking, imprecatory command: "From within Your bosom, destroy them!" This is not polite. This is not seeker-sensitive. This is holy zeal. This is a prayer that God would be God. It is a demand that He vindicate His own righteousness and power. It is a prayer that says, "Unleash Your power. Do what You have promised. Show the world that You are not a defeated deity, but the King of all the earth."
Christ, the True Temple
How are we to understand this psalm as Christians? Is this just a record of an ancient tragedy? Not at all. This psalm finds its ultimate meaning and fulfillment in the person and work of Jesus Christ.
The Jews of Jesus' day were rightly proud of the second temple, the one Herod had magnificently rebuilt. But they had made it an idol. They trusted in the building rather than the God of the building. And so Jesus came and pronounced judgment upon it. He stood in the temple courts and said, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (John 2:19). He was speaking, of course, of the temple of His body.
At the cross, the ultimate desecration took place. The true "dwelling place of God's name" was smashed by the hammers of Roman soldiers and the hatred of sinful men. God's adversaries roared their insults at Him as He hung there. They set up their own signs of victory. God's own Son cried out from a deeper darkness than Asaph ever knew, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46). At that moment, it appeared that God had rejected His chosen one forever. His anger smoked against the Lamb of His pasture. He turned back His right hand and allowed evil to do its worst.
And for a time, there was a terrible silence. There was no prophet. There was only a sealed tomb. The disciples were scattered, their signs were gone, and no one knew "how long." The enemy seemed to have won. Satan and his hordes had burned the true sanctuary and defiled the name of God by murdering His Son.
But the story did not end in the rubble of Golgotha. The psalmist's cry, "Lift up Your steps toward the perpetual ruins," was answered on the third day. God the Father lifted up His Son from the ruins of death. The true Temple was raised, glorious and indestructible. And in doing so, God answered the final imprecation: "From within Your bosom, destroy them!" In the resurrection, God unleashed His power, destroying the power of sin, death, and the devil. He vindicated His name forever.
Therefore, when our own lives feel like a perpetual ruin, when our sanctuaries are threatened, when God seems silent and His hand withdrawn, we must look to the true Temple. We are the sheep of His pasture because He is the Good Shepherd who was struck for us. Our hope is not in buildings made with hands, but in the resurrected Christ, who is the ultimate meeting place between God and man. And because His temple was raised, we have this certain promise: He will raise us also. He will vindicate His name, and He will answer the question "how long?" with the glorious word, "Done."