Commentary - Psalm 78:32-39

Bird's-eye view

This section of Psalm 78 is a masterful and tragic depiction of the cycle of sin, judgment, false repentance, and divine mercy that characterized Israel's wilderness generation. The psalmist, Asaph, is not simply recounting historical data; he is dissecting the anatomy of a faithless heart. After all of God's miraculous provisions and chastisements, the people remain stubbornly locked in unbelief. Their brief turnings to God are exposed as shallow, self-serving, and utterly deceitful, prompted only by the terror of judgment. They are fair-weather followers, and the weather is foul.

Yet, in the face of this persistent, high-handed treachery, the psalm pivots to the astounding character of God. He, being compassionate, does not give them what their sins deserve. He atones, He relents, He remembers their frailty. This is not a sentimental divine indulgence. It is a display of God's covenant faithfulness, which is not ultimately dependent on Israel's fickle performance but on His own gracious character. The passage serves as a stark warning against superficial, crisis-driven religion and as a profound display of the patience and mercy of God, a mercy that finds its ultimate expression in the cross of Christ, where God's compassion and His wrath against sin fully meet.

Outline

Context In Psalm 78

Psalm 78 is a didactic, or teaching, psalm. Asaph, the author, is giving a history lesson with a sharp pastoral point. He recounts the story of Israel from the Exodus through the reign of David to instruct the new generation not to repeat the failures of their fathers. The verses immediately preceding our text describe God's provision of manna and quail, followed by a fierce judgment on their gluttony and unbelief (vv. 23-31). Our passage, then, is the inspired analysis of what was going on in the hearts of the people during this repeating cycle of miracle, sin, and judgment. It forms a crucial hinge in the psalm, revealing the internal corruption that provoked God's wrath and the profound compassion that restrained it, setting the stage for God's ultimate rejection of Ephraim and His choice of Judah, Zion, and David (vv. 67-72).

Key Issues

The Revolving Door of Sin

One of the central lessons of this psalm, and of the entire wilderness narrative, is the baffling resilience of sin in the human heart. We might think that seeing God part the Red Sea, or eating bread that fell from the sky every morning, would be enough to secure a man's faith forever. But it wasn't. The Israelites saw God's "wondrous deeds" up close and personal, and yet they still did not believe. This is a profound mystery of iniquity. Unbelief is not primarily an intellectual problem, as though they just needed more evidence. It is a moral problem, a deep-seated rebellion of the heart that refuses to trust God, no matter what He does.

Their story is our story. We are surrounded by the wonders of God's creation and providence, and we have the ultimate wondrous deed, the resurrection of Jesus Christ, as the foundation of our faith. And yet, how often do our hearts wander? How often do we doubt and complain? This passage forces us to look in the mirror and recognize that the same sinful engine that drove Israel to rebel in the desert is humming away in our own chests. The only thing that breaks this cycle is not a new miracle, but a new heart, which is precisely what God in His compassion provides through the gospel.

Verse by Verse Commentary

32 In spite of all this they still sinned And did not believe in His wondrous deeds.

This verse is the pivot upon which the whole tragedy turns. "In spite of all this" refers to the entire catalog of God's mighty acts of salvation and judgment that have just been recounted. Despite the plagues on Egypt, the parting of the sea, the cloud and the fire, the water from the rock, the bread from heaven. Despite all of it, they still sinned. The root of this persistent sin is then identified: they "did not believe in His wondrous deeds." They saw them, yes. They ate the manna and drank the water. But they did not mix that seeing with faith. They refused to draw the obvious conclusion: that this God is trustworthy, powerful, and good. Unbelief is the mother sin, the poisoned well from which all other streams of disobedience flow.

33 So He brought their days to an end in futility And their years in sudden terror.

Sin has consequences. God's response to their unbelief was to sentence that generation to a life of meaningless wandering. Their days were "futility," a puff of vapor, a chasing after the wind. They marched in circles for forty years until they died, never entering the inheritance God had promised. Their lives were an object lesson in wasted potential. And their years ended in "sudden terror." Judgment would fall unexpectedly. One day they were complaining, and the next the plague was in the camp. This is the fruit of a life lived against God: it is pointless and it is perilous. It is a life with no anchor and no destination, lived under the constant threat of a just verdict.

34 When He killed them, then they sought Him, And returned and sought earnestly for God;

Here we see the beginning of a repentance, but it is a repentance born of fear, not of faith. It was only "when He killed them" that they suddenly got religious. The terror of judgment drove them back to the God they had just been ignoring. They "sought earnestly for God." The Hebrew implies a diligent, early-morning kind of seeking. When the sword of the Lord was unsheathed, they became very interested in theology. This is what we might call foxhole religion. It is a desperate plea for deliverance from consequences, not a heartfelt sorrow for having offended a holy God.

35 And they remembered that God was their rock, And the Most High God their Redeemer.

In their panic, their memory was jogged. They suddenly recalled the correct doctrinal formulations. They remembered that God was their "rock," their source of stability and security. They remembered that the "Most High God," El Elyon, the sovereign ruler of all, was their "Redeemer," the one who had bought them out of slavery in Egypt. They had the right words. They could recite the catechism. But as the next verses show, this intellectual recall had not penetrated their hearts. It was head knowledge, dredged up by fear, not a deep, settled conviction of the soul.

36 But they deceived Him with their mouth And lied to Him with their tongue.

This is a devastating indictment. The all-knowing God, who cannot be fooled, allows Himself to be described here as the object of their deception. Their earnest seeking and their orthodox confession were a sham. They were flattering God with their mouths, saying what they thought He wanted to hear to get Him to call off the judgment. But it was all a lie. They were like a child who says "I'm sorry" with his fingers crossed behind his back. God is a person, and to lie to Him is a profound offense. This is the essence of hypocrisy: an outward show of piety that masks an unchanged, rebellious heart.

37 For their heart was not prepared to remain with Him, Nor were they faithful in His covenant.

The psalmist now gives the reason for their deceit. The problem was internal. Their heart, the center of their will, affections, and commitments, was not "prepared to remain with Him." The Hebrew word means fixed, steadfast, or loyal. Their heart was shifty, unstable, and fundamentally disloyal. Consequently, they were not "faithful in His covenant." The covenant is a relationship, a solemn bond like a marriage. Israel was an unfaithful bride, always looking for other lovers, and only running back to her husband when she got into trouble. Their allegiance was to themselves, not to their covenant Lord.

38 But He, being compassionate, atoned for their iniquity and did not destroy them; And He abounded in turning back His anger And did not arouse all His wrath.

The psalm makes a breathtaking turn here. After detailing their persistent, high-handed, hypocritical sin, we expect the final sentence of destruction. Instead, we get a revelation of the character of God. "But He..." These are two of the most beautiful words in Scripture. He is not like us. He is "compassionate." He feels for His people in their misery, even their self-inflicted misery. And because of this compassion, He "atoned for their iniquity." The word for atone here is kaphar, which means to cover. God provided a covering for their sin so that He could remain in fellowship with them without compromising His holiness. He did this through the sacrificial system, which all pointed forward to the final atonement Christ would make. He turned back His anger and did not stir up the full measure of His wrath, which they richly deserved. This is grace, pure and simple.

39 Thus He remembered that they were but flesh, A wind that goes and does not return.

Why did God act with such mercy? Because "He remembered that they were but flesh." This is not an excuse for their sin, but rather a recognition of their profound weakness and frailty. God, their Creator, knows their frame. He knows they are dust. The psalmist uses a beautiful and poignant image: they are like "a wind that goes and does not return." They are transient, ephemeral, a passing breath. In His covenant mercy, God deals with them not according to their fickle, treacherous hearts, but with a paternal pity for their fragile condition. He is the eternal God; they are a puff of wind. And so He is patient. This divine remembrance is the ground of His compassion and the hope for all who know themselves to be but dust.

Application

This passage is a diagnostic tool for the human heart. It forces us to ask uncomfortable questions about our own repentance. When we turn to God, is it only because we have been caught, or because we are afraid of the consequences? Is our confession just a string of pious words we have learned to say, or does it come from a heart that is genuinely broken over our disloyalty to our covenant Lord? Do we say we are sorry, only to return to the same sin as soon as the pressure is off? This passage warns us against the deadly self-deception of a repentance that is all mouth and no heart.

But the final word here is not about our failure, but about God's faithfulness. Our ultimate hope is not in the steadfastness of our own hearts, which are as fickle as Israel's. Our hope is in the character of God. "But He, being compassionate..." That is the gospel. He knows we are flesh. He knows we are weak. And so He has not dealt with us according to our sins. Instead, He sent His Son to be the perfect covenant-keeper in our place. Jesus' heart was always steadfast. He never lied with His tongue. And on the cross, God did not hold back His wrath; He aroused all of it and poured it out on His Son. He did this to provide a true and final atonement, a perfect covering for the sins of all who would abandon their own hypocritical games and trust in Him. The story of Israel in the wilderness is a dark backdrop against which the brilliant grace of God in Jesus Christ shines all the more brightly.