Our Rescue Story
“He brought me out to a spacious place; He rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19 CSB
The story of king David is a well-known one. He slays a giant everyone else feared with a slingshot, is plucked from the fields where he cared for sheep to become king, is on the run from king Saul and later betrayed by his own son, sleeps with Bathsheba and kills her husband when she becomes pregnant, and mourns the loss of his best friend and his sons. He is cowardly and brave, grievously sinful and a man after God’s own heart. After the Lord saves him from Saul, David writes a song of thanksgiving to the God who had been with him throughout the tumults of his life. That song is recorded in 2 Samuel 22 and also becomes Psalm 18. This is what the author of 1 and 2 Samuel wanted Israel to know at the end of David’s life. David’s story is a rescue story and it’s our story as well.
In verses 4 and 5 David depicts a scene of destruction, captivity, and death. He is not just close to these things, he is wrapped around, entangled, and confronted by them. And so are we. So am I. My sin entangles me, its ropes pull me closer and closer to death. But, also, this broken world has wreaked destruction in my life. Death entered and stole from me earlier than I ever thought it would. I lost my husband, my parenting partner, the dreams and plans I had for the following decades of my life. In those months after Michael died, like David, I was terrified. I felt the “torrents of destruction” as I looked around and saw every aspect of my life and my daughters’ lives torn apart. It was not a slow and graceful change, it was a violent upheaval of all that was known and held dear. And even those who have not felt catastrophic loss as up close and personal as those of us who have lost a spouse, there is no missing how the ropes of sin, death, and brokenness entangle: mockery, betrayal, loneliness, anxiety, uncertainty. There is beauty in life and in the world, but there is also great darkness.
In the midst of his darkness, David turns to the Lord. “I called to the Lord in my distress, and I cried to my God for help.” And catch this…God hears him. David’s call for help “reached [God’s] ears” and God responded. He responded in anger and in power. Verses 7 and 8 tell us that the “earth shook…the foundations of the mountains trembled…because he burned with anger.” Death, sin, and destruction were grasping at his son David and God was not having it. God would not sit idly by when his beloved needed him. When I am exhausted trying to keep all the plates spinning, when I feel like an angry mom, when there is no one sitting next to me on the couch at night and I feel lonely, when my kids are grieving at bedtime and all I want is for them to go to sleep, I can cry out to my God for help, and he hears me. The God of the universe listens to me and he listens to you, his child.
How God saves David is the part of this Psalm that awes me. Verse 9 says that God “bent the heavens and came down, total darkness beneath his feet.” The darkness does not scare God or keep him away. In fact, it does the opposite. God, who is perfect and radiant light, enters into the darkness. He comes down to David, comes down to us, and steps into the darkness. In other translations, the phrase used is “He bowed the heavens.” Bowed as in we bow in worship, we bow in submission. I can’t help but think of Philippians 2, where Paul describes Jesus as emptying himself, taking on the likeness of man, and humbling himself even to the point of death on a cross. God knows we cannot save ourselves. Not from the consequences of our sin, but also not from the darkness that seeps into our life because of this broken world. I cannot parent on my own, I cannot find joy and hope on my own. God knew this and he came down, bowing down to earth, walking it as a human, suffering and grieving, and then dying. The Lord’s rescue plan was to bring the heavens down to earth, the light down to the darkness, the king down to his subjects. This is how lavish his love is for us.
Verse 16 says that God “reached down from on high and took hold of me; he pulled me out of deep water.” I have seen that in my life. When the darkness seems to overwhelm, he reaches down and takes hold. Where does he put David, me, you? In a spacious, secure place (verses 19, 33, 36). God brings us out of destruction and into a spacious place. The juxtaposition of the two places, the before and after rescue places, is almost palpable. Before David was entangled with ropes, he was stuck, unable to escape the weight of the destruction. And now, David is secure and free. Yes, this spacious and secure place is an eternity in heaven, but it is also a safe and comfortable place right now. David’s life at the end is not one of simplicity and ease. In the end, his own sin leads to a plague and many deaths in Israel. And yet, he says that the Lord “sets me securely on the heights” and makes “a spacious place beneath me for my steps.” Our spacious place is God’s presence, and, because of Jesus, we get the security and the light and the hope of that presence right now. On our most catastrophically tragic or even just busy days, God reaches down into our darkness and brings us out into his arms, the most spacious and secure place we could be.
Quietly, almost subtly, in verse 19, David says what is one of my favorite notions in all of scripture: “he rescued me because he delighted in me.” God does not listen, he does not rescue, he does not bow the heavens, he does not reach down, he does not enter the darkness because we deserve it or because he is obligated. It is not because he has something to prove or even some game to win. He meets us where we are and welcomes us into his presence because he wants to, because he loves us, because we delight him. Please don’t miss this. God delights in you. He delights in me. It is because of the joy he has when he thinks of us that he wants to do whatever it takes to be with us and to provide for us a safe space amid our “torrents of destruction.” Let him, sweet friend. Let him reach down, enter in, bring you into his presence, and radiate his delight.
Faithfully,