Commentary on Psalm 37:1-9

I had a seminary professor who insisted that when we wrote about someone else’s point of view, even someone whose words and actions we found problematic, reprehensible, or “wicked” (verse 1), we should write in such a way that they would say, “You have represented me fairly. This is what I think, and this is why I think this way.” If we are not sure they would respond this way as the judges of whether they were represented fairly (just as we would surely want to be the judges of whether we were represented fairly), we still had work to do. It was not uncommon for this professor to hand papers back and tell her students to try again because they had not stepped out of their own convictions, biases, and judgments enough to “refrain from anger, and forsake wrath,” and the result led “only to evil” (verse 8). This professor taught in the spirit of Psalm 37.

The verb in the phrase “do not fret,” which opens this psalm and is repeated three times (verses 1, 7, 8), can be variously translated as to burn, be kindled, rival, try to outdo, or become indignant. It speaks of a hot, competitive, “envious” (verse 1) anger that cannot see clearly because of a singular focus on those labeled “wrongdoers” (verse 1). This is the kind of “steam coming out the ears” anger that can result in mirroring the behavior that the fretting one finds so upsetting. The psalmist, looking back on his long life (verse 25), knows well the cycles of violence and evil that are perpetuated when people respond to situations out of fiery fretting and do not patiently “trust in the LORD” for a just and secure future (verses 3–6).

In this season of unceasing breaking news in the United States, the phrase “do not fret” may feel impossible for many. This wisdom may sound idealistic or even problematic, like a naïve call to toxic positivity or to a complacent passivity that ignores the plight of the “poor and needy” (verse 14).

The preacher will want to preach with empathy and pastoral care. This psalm is intended as a comforting assurance for hearers of the Lord’s trustworthiness precisely at a time when there is clear reason to fret—the psalmist acknowledges that people are plotting against his hearers, drawing their swords, and even killing “those who walk uprightly” (verses 13–14). Thus, this psalm is not starry-eyed advice from one who is out of touch with the realities of the world. It is not meant to deny the validity of people’s emotions or their good desire to do something about the wickedness they see.

Fretting doesn’t just happen. Fretting is a signal that the fretter’s values have been crossed; it is a vital alarm that something is wrong. One who has never fretted has never taken in the depth of humanity’s sinfulness and capacity to harm one another and the planet we live on. As the famous Viktor Frankl saying goes, however, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

For Christians, the space of which Frankl speaks is filled with many things. It is filled with the command to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18; Matthew 19:19; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27); the command not to judge, lest you set yourself up as a god, “knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5, 22; Matthew 7:1–5); and the command not to “bear false witness against your neighbor” (Exodus 20:16; Deuteronomy 5:20). Martin Luther extends the latter to coming to our neighbor’s defense, speaking well of them, and interpreting “everything they do in the best possible light.”¹ Try doing that in this quick-to-judge, “us and them” world when what the person or people do has you fuming with anger!

Beyond these commandments, of which even we who think of ourselves as the faithful and righteous ones cannot be trusted to fulfill even one (see also Romans 7:14–25), the space between the stimulus of fretting and our response to what we see is filled with trust in the one who is faithful to act: the Lord our God. This is who the psalmist points us to over and over again (verses 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9). He doesn’t say more than he knows. He doesn’t try to give the specifics of exactly when and how wrongdoers will “fade like the grass and wither like the green herb” (verse 1), but he proclaims that God’s promises are sure, that God is our “refuge,” “help,” and “salvation” (verses 39–40), and that trust in the Lord leads to life (verses 3–4).

Ultimately, in the space between the stimulus of our fretting and our response stands the cross of Christ. The trustworthiness of God to which the psalmist points is embodied in the One who was plotted against and had the sword drawn against him (verses 12–14), but who responded from a place not of fretfulness but of mercy, saying from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).

Through the Holy Spirit, this One even now knocks on the doors of your people’s hearts as you preach, saying, “Peace be with you” (John 20:19), putting their old; fretting, fixating selves to death; and raising their new selves with new hearts (Ezekiel 36:26) to freedom and “delight in the LORD” (verse 4) who upholds them (verse 17).

Imagine what is possible now. How might it differ to respond from a place of trust rather than fretting?

Notes

1. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert, eds., The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, trans. Charles P. Arand et al. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000), 353.