The Harvest of Holiness
Introduction: The God of Jagged Edges
Our modern age has a peculiar talent for creating gods in its own image. We like our deities manageable, marketable, and, above all, nice. The god of the therapeutic age is a celestial therapist, the god of the consumer age is a cosmic vending machine, and the god of the sentimental age is a divine grandfather who does little more than dispense kittens and pussy willows. We want a god whose marketing director favors sunset poster art. And the result of worshipping such a flimsy, man-made thing is, inevitably, despair.
But the God of Scripture, the God revealed in this psalm, is altogether different. The first nine verses of Psalm 97 describe a God who is utterly untamable. "Clouds and thick darkness are all around him" (v. 2). "Fire goes before him and burns up his adversaries" (v. 3). "The hills melt like wax at the presence of Yahweh" (v. 5). This is not a safe God. This is the God of the jagged edge, the God of tornadoes and thunderheads, the God whose holiness cannot be made palatable for the middle-class consumer. Holiness is wild. Holiness is impolite. Holiness is a consuming fire.
And what is the result of worshipping a God like this? The world thinks it must be terror, gloom, and a prissy, rule-following moralism. But the psalm tells us the exact opposite. When Zion hears about this God, she is glad (v. 8). The worship of the true and terrible God does not produce despair; it produces deep, unshakable gladness. The verses before us are the ethical and emotional consequences of seeing God as He truly is. If you want the fruit of joy, you must have the root of a right vision of God's holiness.
The Text
Hate evil, you who love Yahweh,
Who keeps the souls of His holy ones;
He delivers them from the hand of the wicked.
Light is sown for the righteous
And gladness for the upright in heart.
Be glad in Yahweh, you righteous ones,
And give thanks for the remembrance of His holy name.
(Psalm 97:10-12 LSB)
The Moral Reflex of Love (v. 10a)
We begin with a command that is as straightforward as it is demanding.
"Hate evil, you who love Yahweh..." (Psalm 97:10a)
This is not a suggestion. It is a necessary consequence. It is the moral reflex of a heart that loves God. If you love the Lord, you must hate evil. The two are inextricably bound together. To attempt to love God while maintaining a soft, tolerant, or even friendly posture toward evil is to live a lie. It is to attempt to mix light and darkness, which God Himself separated on the first day of creation.
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the fear of the Lord is to hate evil (Prov. 8:13). This is not about hating people; we are commanded to love our enemies. This is about hating the rebellion, the perversion, the lies, and the ugliness that God hates. It is a holy antipathy. And in our current cultural climate, this command necessarily means that those who obey it will be accused of hate speech. So be it. You cannot hate evil quietly. You must be willing to name it, to confront it, and to stand against it.
This is the great chasm that separates true Christian morality from a cheap, prissy moralism. Moralism is concerned with external appearances and avoiding trouble. True morality, born from a vision of God's consuming holiness, is robust. It has backbone. It is not afraid to call sin, sin. It does not try to make peace with God's enemies. If we bypass the vision of who God actually is, the necessary result will be a spineless religion, not the potent faith of the Christian.
The Fortress of the Faithful (v. 10b)
This robust hatred of evil places the believer in a precarious position with the world. But God does not leave His soldiers undefended.
"...Who keeps the souls of His holy ones; He delivers them from the hand of the wicked." (Psalm 97:10b LSB)
Notice who He keeps: "His holy ones," or His saints. These are the ones who have taken the previous command to heart. They are set apart for Him, and part of that separation involves a separation from the love of evil. And because they stand against the wicked, the wicked stand against them. Persecution is not a sign that you are doing something wrong; it is often a sign you are doing something right. The world loves its own.
But in this conflict, we have a promise. God preserves, guards, and keeps the souls of His saints. This does not mean they will never suffer hardship, but it does mean that their ultimate security is in His hands. He "delivers them from the hand of the wicked." This is the God who shut the mouths of lions for Daniel, who walked with the three young men in the fiery furnace, and who struck the chains from Peter in prison. He is a God who delivers His people from those who return hatred for their love of righteousness. Our safety is not found in compromise with the world, but in the preserving power of the God who commands us to defy it.
The Seed of a Future Sunrise (v. 11)
The life of faith is often lived in the dark, but it is lived in the sure and certain hope of a coming dawn.
"Light is sown for the righteous And gladness for the upright in heart." (Psalm 97:11 LSB)
The metaphor here is agricultural. Light and gladness are not always a present reality, but they are always a future certainty. They are "sown." A farmer does not sow seed and expect a harvest the next day. He sows in faith, works the field, and waits for the appointed time. So it is with the righteous. We walk by faith, not by sight. We live in a world that is still groaning under the curse, a world where the wicked often appear to prosper.
But for the righteous, for the upright in heart, God has planted seeds of light and joy. Every act of obedience, every stand against evil, every prayer uttered in the dark, is a seed that will one day yield a harvest of brilliance and exultation. This is a promise that our labor in the Lord is not in vain. The night will not last forever. The sun will rise, and for the people of God, it will be a sunrise of unimaginable gladness. This is not the superficial happy-clappy nonsense of modern worship, but a deeply rooted gladness, a laughter that has been through the fire and knows the God who controls the fire.
The Ground of Our Gladness (v. 12)
The psalm concludes by bringing us back to the ultimate source of our joy. It is not our circumstances, not our deliverance, not even the promise of future light, but God Himself.
"Be glad in Yahweh, you righteous ones, And give thanks for the remembrance of His holy name." (Psalm 97:12 LSB)
We are commanded to "be glad in Yahweh." Our joy is not in a what, but a Who. And what aspect of Him are we to remember and give thanks for? His power? His mercy? His love? Yes, all of those, but here the psalmist specifies something that the world finds terrifying: "the remembrance of His holy name."
This is the great paradox of the Christian faith. The very thing that makes God a consuming fire to His enemies is the source of deepest comfort and joy for His people. His holiness is our security. His absolute righteousness is our guarantee. His refusal to compromise with evil is our hope. We rejoice that our God is not a tame God. We give thanks that He is utterly and uncompromisingly holy.
This is the potency of right worship. When we see God as He is, in all His terrible, beautiful, and untamable holiness, the result is not fear that drives us away, but a gladness that draws us in. We learn to hate what He hates, we trust in His deliverance, we wait for the harvest of light He has sown for us, and we rejoice, giving thanks at the very thought of His holy name. This is the joy that overcomes the world, because it is a joy rooted in the God who made the world and who reigns over it all.