It’s Not About You
May You increase my greatness and turn to comfort me. Psalm 71:21 NASB
My greatness – What was the opening line of the vastly popular book, The Purpose-Driven Life? Oh, yes, “It’s not about you.” A sort of oxymoron, don’t you think? The book sold millions of copies precisely because readers believed that it was in fact all about them. The book succeeded because people felt empty. They wanted something more. A purpose. So, in spite of the disclaimer, the reason people bought the book was for their own benefit. Sort of like the fact that Christian evangelism is essentially egocentric. It’s all about you getting to Heaven. So, we shouldn’t be too shocked when the psalmist suddenly claims that if God revives him and rescues him from all his troubles and distresses, his greatness, not God’s, will be magnified. In fact, he asks God to be sure to make him gĕdûllâ, that is, important, powerful, and praiseworthy. You can’t miss it: gĕdûllâ plus the suffixed ʾănî. “Greatness of me.”
Does this seem a little odd, a little egotistical? All along this poem has been about God’s righteousness and power, the poet’s miserable state, the terrors that face him, the need for God’s rescue, and his plea not to be abandoned. Now, suddenly, the words shift. Now it’s about me! My greatness. My comfort. My victory. If we’re not careful, we’ll think that the poet views God like a private genie. If he wrote, “Your greatness will increase,” we’d accept that as proper reverence and worship. We wouldn’t think another thought about it. But that’s not what he writes. He writes about his benefit, and as we will see, his victory.
What brings on this sudden change? Well, maybe it’s not so sudden. In typical Hebrew fashion, the opening stanzas of the poem are about God’s goodness, God’s righteousness, and God’s willingness to assist. Once that’s established, the poem moves to cries and pleas, not based on the worth of the author but on the pre-established graciousness of God. Then comes the answer, a kind of proleptic declaration of resolution where the author assumes his prayer has been answered, once again, not because he deserved an answer but because his God is the kind of God who does not refuse mercy. If we read enough Hebrew poetry, this is exactly what we’d expect. It’s not egotism because it truly has nothing to do with the worth of the supplicant. Rather, it’s a form of praise, once more acknowledging the character of YHVH.
“For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6:6 NIV).
How much more praise is apparent from the life of someone spared? That’s the real argument. If the author perishes, no one will be left to praise the Creator, but if he is revived (brought back to living), then all that he does and all that he is acts as statements about the graciousness of God. The psalmist assumes (on good grounds) that God would rather have those who praise Him than those who disappear into the earth no matter how righteous they might have been. Speaking is better than silence, even if the tombstone says, “Here lies a man who always served his God.” If the prophet is correct, and the psalmist assumes he is, then mercy is divine currency that needs to be spent to be appreciated.
Topical Index: gĕdûllâ, greatness, ego, mercy, Psalm 71:21
