THE PSALMIST plaintively says, “I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.” (Psa. 73:3) When you and I look around at the circumstances of the world of people around us, we may be frequented by the same somber thoughts. There has and will always be, in this world, an inequality of opportunity. The rich do get richer, and more arrogant in their self-established pride. The poor do remain poor, and poverty breeds a disconsolate and oft-times generational prevailing dark hopelessness. But the Psalmist is looking beyond these normative circumstances at an issue that disturbs him far more deeply, and this brings him querulously into a need to understand God’s motivations—a dangerous thought indeed. He thinks, “Surely God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart.” (Psa. 73:1) How is it, then, that the wicked prosper, while the good suffer?
In two of the bible’s psalms, two men, both using the same metaphor, each reveal very personal information about their own walk of faith. The first seems to have had struggles that he has overcome; the second appears as one of fixed will and intentionally purposed moral and spiritual practices. We have no way to measure which of them is the more well formed in his worldview, for the information given is like several frames cut out of a moving picture. We don’t know which is nearer the middle or the end of their spiritual formation. We suspect that neither is near the beginning.
The first admits, “my feet had almost slipped.” (Psa. 73:2) He speaks in past tense; he once struggled with something—envy of the prosperity of the wicked—but overcame this as his eyes looked beyond the near and present. Paul had not yet written, “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” (1 Tim. 6:10) But, somehow, God’s grace had given him a view of something above and eternal—something that embodied Paul’s thoughts—and his incipient root of envy was plucked from him before it could bear the fruit of bitterness. This trial over, he can say, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psa. 73:25-26)
The second states, not brashly, but with full self-assurance, “My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled.” (Psa. 17:5) Has he ever had to struggle morally, wavered in his actions? We don’t know, but our own experiences lead us to believe that he must have—it simply belies the human condition that someone might never, ever, not even once, have erred. But it is only a passing thought, and we continue to appreciate and admire his personal truth statements. They have the air of an authenticity that we strive towards, and wish was ours. He too has observed and avoided the wicked, “Though people tried to bribe me, I have kept myself from the ways of the violent through what your lips have commanded.” (Psa. 17:4) And he claims before God, “Though you probe my heart and examine me at night and test me, you will find that I have planned no evil.” (Psa. 17:3a, b, c) Why? Because “My mouth has not transgressed.” (Psa. 17d) James had not yet written, “If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check.” (Jam. 3:2) Perhaps James read Psalm 17 as inspiration, as do we also.
As we reflect on our own stories, many remember the beginnings of our journey of faith in whatever churches we started out in at whatever age. Most of us had none of these markers of clearly formed spiritual authenticity. Our trials befuddled us, and the door of heaven in the brass ceiling above us was more often than not closed to our prayers. (cf. Deut. 28:23) We didn’t know how to hear the voice of God, let alone know how to speak with him. Our actions began to change, but without clear direction. We needed someone to show us how to do these things, but oftentimes what we saw and heard simply didn’t work for us; we would emulate other’s inspirations, but find no true solace for our soul. In order to have an authentic spiritual life, we needed a perfect man to emulate, someone who had never, ever, not once, erred. “To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. ‘He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.’” (1 Pet. 2:21-22) If we are found by, and if we find Jesus, we find the rest our souls have always desired. For this we were made.
Ultimately, our understanding of the tortuous paradox of the coexistence of evil with good has to be shifted, and this is no mere theoretical construct, to not a different frame of reference, but a different realm of judgment. If we are to be sure-footed in our moral and ethical and practical walk through this world, we must find resolution Our first Psalmist, struggling as we all do with these weighty matters, came to this satisfying conclusion: “When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me till I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood their final destiny.” (Psa. 73:16-17)
Only when we fully comprehend not just the final destiny of the wicked, but also that of the good, can we be established firmly in the path for our life. Jesus spoke of this, so that we would grasp firmly hold of our faith. “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.” (Matt. 25:31-34)
Q. Do my feet stray neither to the left nor to the right?
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