Psalm 18 Sermon PART 3B — The Warfare Language

anglican sermon, spoken-word homily, liturgical / choral-less church ambience

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We have looked at how the Christian Church 
reads David's righteousness claim.
There is one more difficult passage in this psalm 
that we need to handle 
before we move to the closing doxology.
Let me address it directly.

[SECTION SEVEN — The Warfare Language]
[Cello note steady]
[Preacher — careful, deliberate]

In verses twenty-eight through forty-five, 
David celebrates military victory 
in language that can make modern Christians uncomfortable.

He speaks of God teaching his hands to war.
He speaks of pursuing his enemies and overtaking them.
He speaks of beating them small as dust before the wind.
He speaks of the strangers fading away 
and being afraid out of their close places.

I do not want to soften this language.
It is what the psalm actually says.
David did fight wars.
He did defeat his enemies in battle.
He did experience God 
as the one who gave him military victory.

There has been a tendency in some modern preaching 
to spiritualize this language 
so completely that the psalm seems to be talking 
about nothing in particular — 
the enemies become abstractions, 
the warfare becomes interior, 
and what David actually meant 
is dissolved into edifying metaphor.

I want to resist that move.

David meant what he said.
His enemies were real people 
with real swords and real armies.
The deliverance he celebrates 
is rescue from people who would have killed him 
if God had not intervened.
The psalm does not exist apart from this history.
It is grounded in the actual military and political life 
of the king of Israel 
in the tenth century before Christ.

[SECTION EIGHT — Christ Transforms the Warfare]
[Cello note slightly warmer]
[Preacher — measured, careful]

But here is what the New Testament does with this language.

The same God who gave David military victory 
sent his Son to win a different kind of victory.

Not over Philistines and Edomites.
Over death itself.
Not by sword and spear.
By absorbing violence into his own body 
and breaking its power from the inside.

When Christ stood before Pilate 
and was asked whether he was a king,
he answered that his kingdom 
was not of this world.
If it were, he said, his servants would fight.
But it is not, 
and they would not.

This is the transformation 
that the New Testament makes 
of the warfare imagery.
The kingdom that David fought for 
becomes the kingdom that Christ wins differently.
The hands trained for battle 
become the hands that heal lepers, 
that bless children, 
that break bread, 
that are nailed to a cross.
The pursuit of enemies 
becomes the pursuit of the lost sheep 
into the country of death itself,
where Christ went 
to bring them home.

So when Christians today pray Psalm eighteen,
we pray it through the cross.
The enemies are no longer human armies.
The warfare is no longer territorial.
The victory is the victory Christ has won 
over sin, death, 
and the powers that have held humanity captive.

[SECTION NINE — Reading Honestly Through the Cross]
[Cello note steady]
[Preacher — settled, pastoral]

This is not dissolving the psalm into metaphor.
I want to be careful about this distinction.

We are not saying 
that the psalm did not mean what it said.
We are saying 
that the psalm has been transformed 
by what Christ has done.
The David whose enemies were Philistines 
gave way to the greater David 
whose enemy was death.
And the warfare that the Old Testament celebrated 
gave way 
to the cross 
on which the warfare was finally ended.

This is what typological reading means 
at its best.
We do not erase the original meaning.
We see the original meaning 
as the early form 
of a pattern 
that finds its fulfillment 
in something greater.

And the something greater 
is not less violent than the original.
It is more violent — 
in the sense that it absorbs 
all the violence the world can produce 
into the body of one man 
on a Roman cross.
But the violence is now inverted.
The warrior receives the wounds 
rather than inflicting them.
And by receiving them 
he ends the cycle 
that David's victories could only continue.

This is why Christians can pray Psalm eighteen 
with full voice 
without becoming people of violence.
The psalm has been baptized into the cross.
The hands trained to war 
have become the hands pierced for our salvation.
And the great enemy that has been overthrown 
is the enemy 
that David's victories could not finally defeat — 
death itself, 
which has now been broken open 
by the rising of the one 
whose hands were never lifted in violence 
even when violence was inflicted upon him.

[end]

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[intro] [British Scholarly-Pastoral Anglican Sermon] [Mid-sized Anglican parish church acoustic] [Single sustained low cello note] [Faint church ambient] [Preacher — continuing, careful with difficult material] We have looked at how the Christian Church reads David's righteousness claim. There is one more difficult passage in this psalm that we need to handle before we move to the closing doxology. Let me address it directly. [SECTION SEVEN — The Warfare Language] [Cello note steady] [Preacher — careful, deliberate] In verses twenty-eight through forty-five, David celebrates military victory in language that can make modern Christians uncomfortable. He speaks of God teaching his hands to war. He speaks of pursuing his enemies and overtaking them. He speaks of beating them small as dust before the wind. He speaks of the strangers fading away and being afraid out of their close places. I do not want to soften this language. It is what the psalm actually says. David did fight wars. He did defeat his enemies in battle. He did experience God as the one who gave him military victory. There has been a tendency in some modern preaching to spiritualize this language so completely that the psalm seems to be talking about nothing in particular — the enemies become abstractions, the warfare becomes interior, and what David actually meant is dissolved into edifying metaphor. I want to resist that move. David meant what he said. His enemies were real people with real swords and real armies. The deliverance he celebrates is rescue from people who would have killed him if God had not intervened. The psalm does not exist apart from this history. It is grounded in the actual military and political life of the king of Israel in the tenth century before Christ. [SECTION EIGHT — Christ Transforms the Warfare] [Cello note slightly warmer] [Preacher — measured, careful] But here is what the New Testament does with this language. The same God who gave David military victory sent his Son to win a different kind of victory. Not over Philistines and Edomites. Over death itself. Not by sword and spear. By absorbing violence into his own body and breaking its power from the inside. When Christ stood before Pilate and was asked whether he was a king, he answered that his kingdom was not of this world. If it were, he said, his servants would fight. But it is not, and they would not. This is the transformation that the New Testament makes of the warfare imagery. The kingdom that David fought for becomes the kingdom that Christ wins differently. The hands trained for battle become the hands that heal lepers, that bless children, that break bread, that are nailed to a cross. The pursuit of enemies becomes the pursuit of the lost sheep into the country of death itself, where Christ went to bring them home. So when Christians today pray Psalm eighteen, we pray it through the cross. The enemies are no longer human armies. The warfare is no longer territorial. The victory is the victory Christ has won over sin, death, and the powers that have held humanity captive. [SECTION NINE — Reading Honestly Through the Cross] [Cello note steady] [Preacher — settled, pastoral] This is not dissolving the psalm into metaphor. I want to be careful about this distinction. We are not saying that the psalm did not mean what it said. We are saying that the psalm has been transformed by what Christ has done. The David whose enemies were Philistines gave way to the greater David whose enemy was death. And the warfare that the Old Testament celebrated gave way to the cross on which the warfare was finally ended. This is what typological reading means at its best. We do not erase the original meaning. We see the original meaning as the early form of a pattern that finds its fulfillment in something greater. And the something greater is not less violent than the original. It is more violent — in the sense that it absorbs all the violence the world can produce into the body of one man on a Roman cross. But the violence is now inverted. The warrior receives the wounds rather than inflicting them. And by receiving them he ends the cycle that David's victories could only continue. This is why Christians can pray Psalm eighteen with full voice without becoming people of violence. The psalm has been baptized into the cross. The hands trained to war have become the hands pierced for our salvation. And the great enemy that has been overthrown is the enemy that David's victories could not finally defeat — death itself, which has now been broken open by the rising of the one whose hands were never lifted in violence even when violence was inflicted upon him. [end]

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