The Divine Economy of Pleasure
Introduction: The World's Metrics vs. God's
We live in a world that is obsessed with metrics. We measure everything. We measure gross domestic product, approval ratings, horsepower, gigabytes, and follower counts. Our entire civilization is built on the assumption that bigger, faster, and stronger is always better. The world’s heroes are the self-made man, the conquering general, the chiseled athlete. We are impressed by might, by power, by what the world calls strength. This is the wisdom of man, and it is a wisdom that is headquartered in the pride of life.
But the kingdom of God operates on a completely different economy, with a completely different set of metrics. God is not impressed by the things that impress us. He is not impressed with the strength of a warhorse or the speed of a soldier. His pleasure is not found in the flexing of created muscle, but rather in the bending of a created knee. This is a fundamental, worldview-shattering collision. If we do not grasp this, we will spend our entire lives trying to impress God with the very things He dismisses as trivial.
Psalm 147 is a magnificent hymn of praise to the God who is both transcendent and immanent. He is the God of the macrocosm, who numbers and names the stars (v. 4). But He is also the God of the microcosm, who heals the brokenhearted and feeds the young ravens when they cry (v. 3, 9). He is the God who manages the cosmos, covering the heavens with clouds and providing rain for the earth. And it is in this context, after cataloging the grandeur of God's cosmic and creational power, that the psalmist makes a radical turn. He tells us what God is not looking for, and then he tells us what brings God pleasure. And what brings God pleasure is the central hinge upon which a godly life turns.
This passage forces us to ask a foundational question: What are we living for? Are we living to earn the applause of men, using the world’s metrics of success? Or are we living for the pleasure of God, according to His stated desires? We must get this right, because to get it wrong is to waste your life polishing brass on a sinking ship.
The Text
7 Sing to Yahweh with thanksgiving;
Sing praises to our God on the lyre.
8 He is the One who covers the heavens with clouds,
The One who provides rain for the earth,
The One who makes grass to sprout on the mountains,
9 Who gives to the animal its food,
And to the young ravens which call out.
10 He does not delight in the might of the horse;
He does not take pleasure in the legs of a man.
11 Yahweh is pleased with those who fear Him,
Those who wait for His lovingkindness.
(Psalm 147:7-11 LSB)
Singing From a Full Granary (vv. 7-9)
The call to praise here is not a call to empty emotionalism. It is a call to substantive, content-driven worship.
"Sing to Yahweh with thanksgiving; Sing praises to our God on the lyre. He is the One who covers the heavens with clouds, The One who provides rain for the earth, The One who makes grass to sprout on the mountains, Who gives to the animal its food, And to the young ravens which call out." (Psalm 147:7-9)
Biblical praise is not like making a bread sandwich, with bread on both sides and nothing in the middle. It is a feast. The psalmist tells us to sing, and then he immediately gives us the lyrics. The reason for our song is God’s faithful, constant, and universal providence. Notice the chain of cause and effect. God covers the heavens with clouds. Why? To provide rain for the earth. Why? To make grass sprout. Why? To give food to the animals. This is a picture of God’s meticulous, fatherly care over all His creation. This is not Deism. God did not wind up the world like a clock and then walk away. He is actively, personally, and continually involved in the running of His world. Every cloud, every raindrop, every blade of grass is a direct result of His command.
He gives food to the animal, and specifically "to the young ravens which call out." This is a beautiful and pointed detail. In the law, the raven was an unclean bird (Lev. 11:15). In the popular mind, it was a creature of ill omen. And yet, God feeds them. Jesus Himself picks up this very illustration: "Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" (Luke 12:24). The logic is inescapable. If God cares for unclean birds, if He hears their croaking as a cry He must answer, how much more does He care for His own children? Our thanksgiving is rooted in this reality. We are not subject to blind chance or impersonal fate. We are in the hands of a God who manages the weather and the food supply for the benefit of His creatures, even the least of them.
This is the foundation of our praise. We sing with thanksgiving because we see His hand everywhere. The secularist sees only "natural processes." The Christian sees a personal God orchestrating those processes for His glory and for our good. Our worship is therefore intelligent. It is based on the observable facts of the world, interpreted rightly through the lens of Scripture.
The Rejection of Worldly Power (v. 10)
After establishing the basis of our praise in God's providence, the psalmist makes a sharp, polemical turn. He tells us what does not impress God.
"He does not delight in the might of the horse; He does not take pleasure in the legs of a man." (Psalm 147:10)
In the ancient world, these were the two premier symbols of military power. The "might of the horse" refers to the cavalry, the ancient equivalent of a tank division. The "legs of a man" refers to the infantry, the swift and powerful foot soldiers. This was how nations measured their strength. This was their confidence. This was what they trusted in for victory. And God says, "I am not impressed."
This is a direct assault on human pride and autonomy. Men trust in their own strength, their own technology, their own abilities. We still do this today. We trust in our armies, our economies, our political solutions, our educational systems. We look at our own resources and think that this is where our salvation lies. But God looks at all of it and yawns. "Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God" (Psalm 20:7). God is not impressed with created strength because He is the one who created it. For a man to boast in his strength before God is as foolish as a hammer boasting in its ability to drive nails before the carpenter who fashioned it.
This verse is a great leveling agent. It demolishes all our pretensions to self-sufficiency. God does not take pleasure in our raw talent, our physical prowess, our intellectual horsepower, or our financial portfolios. To trust in these things is to worship a created thing rather than the Creator, which is the very definition of idolatry. God is looking for something else entirely.
The Divine Pleasure (v. 11)
If God does not delight in human strength, what does He delight in? Verse 11 gives us the answer, and it is the heart of the passage and the heart of the Christian life.
"Yahweh is pleased with those who fear Him, Those who wait for His lovingkindness." (Psalm 147:11)
Here is the great reversal. God’s pleasure is not found in what we can do for Him, but in our recognition of what only He can do for us. He is pleased with two intertwined realities: those who fear Him, and those who hope in His mercy.
First, "those who fear Him." This is not the cowering, craven fear of a slave before a tyrant. This is not worldly anxiety. The fear of the Lord is a healthy, joyful, and foundational awe and reverence for God. It is the beginning of wisdom (Prov. 9:10). It is understanding who He is in His holiness and power, and who we are in our creatureliness and sin. It is the posture of humility that recognizes our utter dependence upon Him for everything, from the rain that grows our food to the grace that saves our souls. Fearing God means we take Him seriously. We take His commands seriously, His warnings seriously, and His promises seriously. It is the opposite of the casual, buddy-buddy flippancy with which our modern culture often treats God.
Second, this fear is immediately qualified and explained. It is the fear of "those who wait for His lovingkindness." The Hebrew here is chesed, that rich covenantal word that means steadfast love, mercy, and faithfulness. This is crucial. We do not fear God and then run from Him. We fear God, and therefore we run to Him. Our fear is not the fear that drives us to despair, but the fear that drives us to the only source of hope: His mercy.
To "wait for" or "hope in" His lovingkindness is to abandon all trust in our own merits. It is to admit that we have no horsepower of our own, no swift legs to run from His judgment. It is to stand before Him with empty hands, acknowledging our sin and our need, and looking to His promised mercy alone. This is the posture of true faith. It is a dependent waiting, a confident reliance on His character and His promises.
The Gospel According to Psalm 147
This psalm is a perfect summary of the gospel. The world says, "Impress God. Show him your strength. Run faster. Jump higher. Be better." The world operates on the principle of the flesh, of human achievement.
The gospel says, "You cannot impress God. Your strength is weakness. Your righteousness is filthy rags. Stop trying to justify yourself by the might of your horse or the legs of your own efforts."
And so what are we to do? We are to do what pleases Him. We are to fear Him enough to take our sin seriously. And we are to hope in His lovingkindness enough to believe His solution. And what is His solution? He sent His Son, Jesus Christ. Christ is the ultimate expression of God's chesed, His lovingkindness.
When you come to God, you do not come boasting of your might. You come because you have sinned. You come for mercy. And this psalm tells us that when you do that, when you abandon your own strength and hope in His mercy, God takes pleasure in you. Think of that. God, the creator of the stars, takes pleasure in a sinner who throws himself upon the mercy offered in Christ. He delights in receiving you. Why? Because when you do this, you are agreeing with His assessment of reality. You are agreeing that He is the strong one and you are the weak one. You are agreeing that He is the holy one and you are the sinner. You are agreeing that His mercy in Christ is your only hope.
Therefore, our entire Christian life is to be a living out of this principle. We are to sing with thanksgiving for His daily providence. We are to constantly repudiate trust in our own strength and the strength of the world. And day by day, we are to cultivate a joyful fear of God that causes us to hope, to wait, and to rest in His steadfast, covenantal love shown to us in the face of Jesus Christ. That is a life that is pleasing to God.