When the Psalms Don't Make Sense at First
Learning to Be Formed, Not Soothed
I read Psalm 4 the other day, several times, and I could not understand it as a whole. Poetry has never been intuitive for me. I prefer writing that is straightforward, linear, easy to follow. The psalms often resist that. They speak in images, leaps, and turns that do not immediately reveal where the prayer is going.
Eventually, after rereading and consulting a commentary, the structure became clearer. Like Psalm 3, Psalm 4 carries multiple voices — but here the shifts feel even more pronounced. David speaks to God, to others, and to himself. The psalm moves in and out of these voices with a kind of spiritual agility I often envy.
What I began to notice is this: the psalm is not primarily about emotion. It is about formation.
Addressing God: Expectation Without Drama
David begins by speaking to God with quiet confidence:
“Answer me when I call… be gracious to me and hear my prayer.”
There is no panic here, no emotional performance. Just expectation. David assumes God hears. He assumes God acts. This is not wishful thinking; it is covenant trust.
I find this challenging. I expect answers, but often with a kind of hesitant hopefulness — half-wondering whether God is listening at all. David prays with a steadiness that I do not always possess.
Addressing Others (and the Inner Opposition)
Then the psalm shifts, unexpectedly, to a different audience:
“How long will you love vain words and seek after lies?”
Commentaries differ: this could refer to actual adversaries, spiritual opposition, or the internalised voices we carry as fallen human beings. In any case, David confronts false narratives — interpretations of reality that distort who God is and what is true.
This is where the psalm becomes uncomfortably relevant. Not every voice in me tells the truth. Not every thought deserves the authority I give it. The psalm exposes the instability of my own internal dialogue.
Addressing Himself: Reorientation, Not Catharsis
Then comes a turn inward:
“Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts… be silent.”
“Offer right sacrifices and put your trust in the LORD.”
Here David speaks to his own soul. Not to console it. Not to indulge it. But to reorient it.
This is not self-soothing.
This is not emotional ventilation.
This is moral and spiritual recalibration.
The psalm assumes that the self does not naturally drift toward truth. It must be guided, corrected, disciplined. Again, this challenges me: I have treated the psalms as emotional outlets, as ways to “process” what I feel. But Psalm 4 does not simply express the inner world — it reshapes it.
Returning to God: Rest Rooted in Reality
The psalm ends with a return to God:
“You have put more joy in my heart…”
“In peace I will both lie down and sleep…”
This sounds serene, but it is not cheap serenity. Nothing in David’s circumstances has changed. What has changed is his posture.
Not:
“I feel peaceful, therefore I trust.”
But:
“I trust, therefore I can sleep.”
That distinction is crucial.
I used to think the psalms were meant to capture emotion so that emotion could then guide thinking and behaviour. But that is a modern reading. The psalms were written not to validate my inner world but to train it — to teach me how to live truthfully before God even when my emotions lag behind.
The psalms do not say, “Feel this.”
They say, “Remember this.”
And in remembering, be formed.
So What Is Psalm 4 Doing in Me?
If the psalm’s aim were comfort, I would still be waiting. I do not feel particularly comforted. I do not feel dramatically changed.
But I can tell I am being formed — slowly, quietly — toward a way of trusting God that does not depend on clarity or emotional reassurance.
The psalm gives me a rhythm:
petition → correction → inward discipline → trust → rest.
It unsettles me before it steadies me.
It challenges me before it soothes me.
It trains me before it speaks peace over me.
And perhaps that is how it is meant to work.
Reflection Question
Where do you sense God inviting you to be formed rather than soothed — and how might that reshape the way you pray?