The Fixed Resolve of a Living Soul Text: Psalm 146:1-2
Introduction: The Sanity of Hallelujah
We live in an age that is going collectively insane, and the root of the insanity is a frantic search for a stable place to stand. Men are trying to build their houses on the shifting sand of their own autonomy, their own feelings, their own self-declared identities, and they are bewildered when the tide comes in and washes it all away. They are looking for a foundation in the very things that are, by nature, foundationless. The result is a cacophony of shrieking, a culture of perpetual grievance, and a society that is coming apart at the seams.
Into this asylum, the Psalter speaks with a clear, ringing sanity. And this particular psalm, Psalm 146, begins with the great command that is also the great conclusion. It begins with "Hallelujah," which is simply Hebrew for "Praise Yahweh." This is not a suggestion. It is not an emotional outburst for the particularly bubbly among us. It is a command, a summons to sanity. It is the fundamental duty of every creature that draws breath, and it is the central activity of the sane man.
This psalm is the first of the final five "Hallelujah" psalms that conclude the entire Psalter. It is as though the entire book, with all its lament, its pain, its confusion, and its wrestling, has been building to this great, final, explosive crescendo of praise. The end of the matter, after all the battles and tears, is this: Praise the Lord. This is where history is going. This is the final word. All of creation will end in a massive, universe-shaking Hallelujah Chorus. The question before us is not whether God will be praised, but whether we will join the choir.
In these first two verses, the psalmist gives us a model for this sanity. He issues the great call to praise, he internalizes that call personally, and he makes a fixed, lifelong, covenantal resolve. This is not a fleeting feeling; it is a settled determination. It is the grammar of a life that has found its proper center, its true north. And in a world that has lost its mind, this is the only path back to reality.
The Text
Praise Yah!
Praise Yahweh, O my soul!
I will praise Yahweh throughout my life;
I will sing praises to my God while I have my being.
(Psalm 146:1-2)
The Universal and the Personal (v. 1)
The psalm opens with a staccato command and an immediate, personal application.
"Praise Yah! Praise Yahweh, O my soul!" (Psalm 146:1)
The first phrase, "Praise Yah," is a summons to the entire covenant community. It is a corporate call to worship. This is what we are doing when we gather on the Lord's Day. The minister stands and says, in effect, "Let us worship God." And the people respond by praising His majesty. Worship is a conversation, and it begins with this great, objective call. It is not about how you feel. It is a declaration of who God is and what is due His name. His name is Yah, a shortened form of Yahweh, the covenant name of God. He is the self-existent one, the God who is, and who was, and who is to come. He is the God who makes promises and keeps them. This is the God we are called to praise.
But true worship cannot remain a mere corporate activity or a formal declaration. It must be driven down from the head into the heart. The psalmist immediately models this for us. He takes the general call and applies it directly to himself: "Praise Yahweh, O my soul!" He is preaching to himself. This is something every Christian must learn to do. Your soul is not your sanctified self; it is more like a rambunctious toddler that needs to be constantly instructed, disciplined, and directed. David does this elsewhere: "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God" (Psalm 42:5). Here, the psalmist commands his own soul to get in line with reality. He is telling his own inner man to stop navel-gazing, to stop worrying, to stop complaining, and to get on with the main business of existence, which is to praise Yahweh.
This is a crucial discipline. Your feelings will lie to you. Your circumstances will distract you. The world, the flesh, and the devil will conspire to drag you down into the mud of discontent. You must take yourself in hand. You must look your own soul in the eye and say, "We are not doing that. We are doing this. We are praising Yahweh." This is not self-help; it is self-command under God. It is the recognition that the objective reality of God's glory is infinitely more important than the subjective reality of my current emotional state.
The Fixed, Lifelong Resolve (v. 2)
From this personal command, the psalmist moves to a settled, covenantal vow. This is not a momentary decision, but a lifelong posture.
"I will praise Yahweh throughout my life; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being." (Psalm 146:2)
Notice the determined future tense: "I will praise." This is a fixed resolve. This is a man who has made up his mind. Praise for him is not a weekend hobby. It is not something he does when the mood strikes or when the worship band plays his favorite song. It is the settled policy of his entire existence. "Throughout my life" and "while I have my being" are parallel phrases that drive the point home with the force of a hammer. As long as there is breath in my lungs, it will be used to praise God. As long as I exist, my existence will be oriented toward the worship of my God.
This is what it means to be a living sacrifice, as Paul describes it in Romans 12. Worship is not just the first hour on Sunday morning; it is the offering of your entire being, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Your work is worship. Your parenting is worship. Your rest is worship. Every part of your life is to be an act of praise to God. This is the difference between a Christian and a mere church-goer. The church-goer visits the "worship department" for an hour a week. The Christian understands that his entire life is the worship department.
And notice the beautiful possessive: "my God." This is the language of covenant. This is not some abstract deity, some impersonal force. This is the God who has revealed Himself, who has bound Himself to His people by promise, who has come near. For the psalmist, this was through the covenant with Abraham and Moses. For us, it is through the blood of the new and better covenant in Jesus Christ. He is our God, and we are His people. This is the foundation of our praise. We do not praise Him in order to get Him to be our God. We praise Him because He already is our God. Our praise is the fruit of a relationship that He established by sheer grace.
To "sing praises" is to give joyful, ordered, skillful expression to this praise. It is not enough to have a heart full of gratitude; that gratitude must come out. It must take form. It must be spoken, sung, and declared. This is why God gave us psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. Our praise is not to be a silent, private affair. It is meant to be audible, corporate, and beautiful. We are to "play skillfully with a loud noise" (Psalm 33:3). This is the glad and noisy business of the redeemed.
Conclusion: The Only Alternative to Praise
The rest of this psalm goes on to give the reasons for this fixed resolve. The psalmist immediately contrasts this lifelong praise of God with the folly of trusting in princes, "in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation" (v. 3). This is the great choice that is set before every human being. You will either praise and trust Yahweh, the everlasting Creator, or you will praise and trust something He made, something that will inevitably let you down.
There is no third option. You are a worshiping creature. You were designed to praise. If you do not praise God, you will not praise nothing; you will praise something else. You will praise your political party. You will praise your career. You will praise your children. You will praise your own intellect. And whatever you praise, you will serve. And whatever you serve, you will become like. And because all of these things are finite, created, and temporary, they will ultimately turn to dust in your hands, leaving you empty and desolate.
The call of this psalm is a call to align yourself with reality. It is a call to stop trying to drink from broken cisterns that can hold no water and to turn to the fountain of living waters. It is a call to make the same resolve as the psalmist. To preach to your own soul. To command it to do the one thing it was made to do. And to settle the matter, once and for all, that for the rest of your days, as long as you have being, you will praise the Lord.
This is not a burden; it is a glorious liberation. It is to be set free from the crushing weight of having to be your own god. It is to find your small, finite life caught up in the infinite, glorious purpose of the one who made you. So, let the world continue in its frantic and insane pursuit of meaning in the meaningless. As for us, let our resolve be fixed. Hallelujah. Praise Yahweh, O my soul. I will praise Yahweh as long as I live.