The Great Litany of Unfailing Loyalty Text: Psalm 136:23-25
Introduction: The Drumbeat of Reality
We live in a world that is tone-deaf to reality. Our generation is adrift in a sea of relativism, where every man does what is right in his own eyes, and consequently, every man is miserable. We are told to look within for our truth, to define our own reality, to construct our own meaning. The result is a cacophony of anxious, self-obsessed noise. Into this chaos, Psalm 136 marches with the steady, relentless drumbeat of a divine invading army. It is a great litany, a responsive reading where the congregation is called to answer every declaration of God's work with the same thunderous refrain: "For His lovingkindness endures forever."
This psalm is a history lesson, a theology lesson, and a worship service all rolled into one. It recounts God's work from the creation of the cosmos to the deliverance of Israel, and every single act, from splitting the Red Sea to slaying mighty kings, is attributed to this one, central reality: God's lovingkindness. But this phrase, "lovingkindness," is a bit of a placeholder for the rich Hebrew word, hesed. This is not a sentimental, squishy sort of niceness. Hesed is covenant loyalty. It is rugged faithfulness. It is the unbreakable commitment of a sovereign king to His chosen people. It is a love that says, "I belong to you, no matter what." This is the central truth of the universe. God's hesed is the axle around which all of history turns.
The structure of this psalm is designed to catechize us, to drill this truth into our bones. The priest or the worship leader makes a declaration: "To Him who remembered us in our low estate," and the people thunder back the reason: "For His lovingkindness endures forever." This is not vain repetition. This is fortification. This is how you build a worldview that can withstand the siege of modernity. You learn to attribute everything, your deliverance, your provision, your very breath, to the unrelenting, eternal, covenant-keeping faithfulness of God.
The final section of this psalm brings this grand cosmic and historical reality down to the most personal level. After speaking of creation and the Exodus, the psalmist turns to our immediate condition. He speaks of our weakness, our enemies, and our daily bread. And in each case, the ground of our hope is exactly the same. It is not our strength, not our cleverness, not our righteousness. It is His hesed forever.
The Text
Who remembered us in our low estate,
For His lovingkindness endures forever,
And has snatched us from our adversaries,
For His lovingkindness endures forever;
Who gives food to all flesh,
For His lovingkindness endures forever.
(Psalm 136:23-25 LSB)
The Divine Remembrance (v. 23)
We begin with the foundation of our personal salvation:
"Who remembered us in our low estate, For His lovingkindness endures forever," (Psalm 136:23)
When the Bible says that God "remembered" us, it does not mean that He was suffering from a celestial memory lapse and suddenly thought, "Oh, right, those people in Idaho." God is omniscient; He never forgets. In Scripture, remembrance is not a cognitive act but a covenantal one. For God to remember is for God to act. He remembered Noah, and He sent a wind to dry the earth. He remembered Rachel, and He opened her womb. He remembered His covenant with Abraham, and He sent Moses to deliver Israel from bondage. For God to remember you is for Him to intervene on your behalf according to His promises.
And notice the condition in which He remembers us: "in our low estate." This refers to Israel's slavery in Egypt, their wandering in the wilderness, their oppression under foreign kings. But it is also a perfect description of our spiritual state before Christ. We were not in a neutral position. We were not spiritually climbing the ladder, just needing a little boost. We were in a "low estate." We were dead in our trespasses and sins. We were slaves to our own lusts, without God and without hope in the world. We were spiritually destitute, morally bankrupt, and utterly helpless.
It was in that state, that pit of rebellion and misery, that God remembered us. He did not remember us because we had cleaned ourselves up. He did not remember us because we sent Him a well-worded prayer as a reminder. He remembered us for one reason and one reason alone, the reason the congregation roars back: "For His lovingkindness endures forever." His action was not prompted by our worthiness, but by His own character. His hesed, His covenant loyalty, is the sole source of our salvation. He made a promise, and He keeps His promises, not because we are good, but because He is.
The Divine Deliverance (v. 24)
This remembrance naturally and immediately leads to action, to a rescue mission.
"And has snatched us from our adversaries, For His lovingkindness endures forever;" (Psalm 136:24 LSB)
The verb here is potent. He "snatched" us. This is not a polite invitation. This is a jailbreak. This is a rescue under fire. It pictures a swift, powerful, and decisive action. Think of a father grabbing his child out of the path of an oncoming truck. That is what God has done for us. Our adversaries, whether they be Pharaoh and his armies or sin, death, and the devil, had us in their grip. We were their lawful captives, and we had no power to escape.
But God takes sides. This is one of the most offensive and glorious truths in all of Scripture. God is not a neutral observer, wringing His hands in heaven. In the great conflict of history, He is a partisan. He is for His people and against their enemies. The same act of hesed that saves His people is the act that destroys those who stand against them. The waters of the Red Sea that were a wall of salvation for Israel were a watery grave for the Egyptians. The cross of Christ, which is the ultimate display of God's hesed toward us, was the very instrument that disarmed the principalities and powers, making a public spectacle of them.
He snatched us from our adversaries. This means that our salvation is a conquest. It was won in a great battle. And the reason for this victory is, once again, His covenant loyalty. He did it because He had promised to do it. He is faithful. This is why we can have confidence when we face our own adversaries, whether they are cultural, political, or personal. The God who snatched us from the ultimate enemy will not abandon us to the lesser ones. His hesed endures forever.
The Divine Provision (v. 25)
From the heights of salvation, the psalmist now turns to the most basic, creaturely reality: our daily food.
"Who gives food to all flesh, For His lovingkindness endures forever." (Psalm 136:25 LSB)
This is a staggering turn. After rehearsing the mighty acts of creation and redemption, the psalm concludes with the universal, mundane act of God feeding His creatures. This is deliberate. The God who flung the stars into space and drowned Pharaoh's army is the same God who provides the rain for the wheat that becomes your toast in the morning. This is an assault on all forms of practical Deism, the idea that God wound up the world like a clock and then left it to run on its own.
No, God is intimately involved in the sustenance of His creation. He "gives food to all flesh." This is what theologians call common grace. His provision extends beyond the boundaries of the covenant people. He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. The unbeliever who shakes his fist at heaven still eats a sandwich provided by the very God he denies. This universal provision is an expression of God's goodness, a testimony to His nature.
But for the believer, this common grace is received as a covenantal blessing. It is a sign of His particular hesed toward us. When we sit down to a meal, we are not just refueling. We are participating in a covenant renewal ceremony. We are acknowledging that the same faithful love that snatched us from hell is the love that now sets a table for us in the presence of our enemies. Every meal is a reminder that we are utterly dependent upon Him, not just for our salvation, but for our supper. And so, we give thanks. We give thanks for the bread, and we give thanks for the cross, because both flow from the same eternal, unchanging fountain: "For His lovingkindness endures forever."
Conclusion: Living in the Litany
So what do we do with this? We are to live inside this psalm. We are to learn the rhythm of this great litany until it becomes the instinctive beat of our own hearts. When you are confronted with your own sin and weakness, your "low estate," you must train your soul to answer back, "But God remembered me, for His hesed endures forever." When you are pressed by adversaries, when the culture rages, when you are tempted to fear, you must declare, "He has snatched me from greater foes, for His hesed endures forever." When you receive your paycheck, when you eat your dinner, when you enjoy any good gift, you must confess, "He gives food to all flesh, for His hesed endures forever."
This is how we fight unbelief. Unbelief is forgetfulness. It is the failure to connect our present circumstances to the past faithfulness of God. This psalm is the great enemy of forgetfulness. It is a weapon. It teaches us to see the hand of God in everything, from the grand sweep of salvation history to the particulars of our own lives.
The ultimate expression of this remembrance, this deliverance, and this provision is found at the Lord's Table. At this table, Christ tells us to "do this in remembrance of Me." Here we remember our low estate, and how He descended into it for us. Here we remember how He snatched us from our adversaries by His own blood. And here He gives food to our flesh, the true food of His body and blood, given for us. And the reason for this entire feast, from beginning to end, is the same reason that echoes through this psalm and down through the ages. We come to this table and we receive this grace because His hesed, His covenant loyalty, His steadfast love, endures forever. Amen.