Caught in the Gap

Many are saying of my soul, “There is no salvation for him in God.” Selah  Psalm 3:2  NASB

No salvation – Man on Fire Do you think God will forgive us   MOVIE CLIP

“You think God will forgive us for what we’ve done?”  Rayburn replies, “No.”  Such is the life of those who sin.  Oh, wait a minute, that’s all of us!  It’s fairly easy to draw this conclusion, isn’t it?  We all face the ultimate accuser—that voice within that tells us over and over that we are undeserving, guilty, and irredeemable.  And we believe it.  Our moral injuries are frighteningly persuasive.  Who could possibly forgive the things that we have done?  My list is long—and terrifying.  I try not to think about it, but it comes back to me in the dark of the night.  Too late for apologies (as if they could repair the damage).  Too long past for restitution.  I live with the ghosts.  And who could possibly banish them?

“There is no salvation for him.”  That’s the conclusion of anyone who knows us deeply enough.  There aren’t many because we shield our outer persona from those prying eyes, but sometimes we pull back the cover and then the real “me” shows itself.  Therapists are trained not to offer judgment, but I suspect that even they are morally offended by some of our confessions.  Perhaps a priest is better, although I doubt it.  No human being can really offer the kind of forgiveness we really need because every human being struggles with the same darkness.  David touches the nerve in this verse.

First, notice that “soul” is not the right translation.  The word is familiar to us: nepeš—person.  The whole of me.  Not just my “spiritual” component but rather the fully homogenized, integrated person that I am.  The Hebrew context of “salvation” is really “rescue,” without the Christian overtones of heavenly escape.  The psalmist is not describing his detractors as those who claim he will never find forgiveness and heavenly reward.  The statement is simply that God will not rescue him from present peril.  Why won’t God intervene?  Because he doesn’t deserve it.  The thinking is typically ancient Semitic.  God demands obedience.  Infractions are punished by withdrawing protection.  And as we learned from the story of Job, a man unprotected can be assumed to be at odds with his deity.  Like Job’s friends, we often draw the same conclusion.  Sinners deserve what they get.

In this verse, the negative particle is ʾên.  Scotts comments:

This word is basically a negative substantive used most frequently in the construct form (ʾên). The word therefore has no single meaning and the exact translation must be determined in each context. The negative concept is always present wherever the word is used. It is characteristically used to negate a noun or noun clause, . . .^[1]

“You think God will forgive us for what we’ve done?”  “No,” replies Rayburn.  Most of us concur.  We are also likely to treat the other important Hebrew term with the same approach.

yāšaʿ and its derivatives are used 353 times. The root meaning in Arabic is “make wide” or “make sufficient”; this root is in contrast to ṣārar “narrow,” which means “be restricted” or “cause distress.” That which is wide connotes freedom from distress and the ability to pursue one’s own objectives. To move from distress to safety requires deliverance. Generally the deliverance must come from somewhere outside the party oppressed. In the ot the kinds of distress, both national and individual, include enemies, natural catastrophies [sic], such as plague or famine, and sickness. The one who brings deliverance is known as the “savior.” The word may be used, however, in everyday life free of theological overtones^[2]

Perhaps now we have a better understanding of the Hebraic name of the Messiah (yĕšûʿâ).  The Messiah does not come in order that sinners may somehow be forgiven and welcomed to Paradise.  That isn’t rescue.  The Messiah comes to deliver us from imminent peril, and in most cases, that imminent peril resides within us.  I need to be rescued from myself long before I will be fit for heaven.  God forgives.  He has always shown mercy.  Forgiveness does not depend on the crucifixion.  What happens at the cross, and more importantly, at the resurrection is a divine statement that we may be rescued from ourselves.  We can answer Denzel’s question with a resounding “Yes,” because the words from the cross tell us that our inner enemy no longer has the power of death over us.  At last we know we can be free from those reminders that we are unworthy.

Finally, there’s a tiny foreshadowing in this verse.  When the enemies proclaim there is no rescue, they imply that God no longer protects the psalmist.  This suggestion asks us to recall two other biblical events: Job and Adam.  As we will see in the following verses, the allusion to the Genesis story is a reflection of Adam’s experience after the Fall.  Adam fails to realize God’s protective enclosure.  Job, on the other hand, seems to be an example of exactly what the enemies, and Job’s friends, say is the case—that there is no salvation for him.  Yet Job, unlike Adam, refuses to doubt God’s faithfulness.  With these two stories in mind, the psalmist is about to rewrite their meanings.  Perhaps that’s why he concludes this verse with selah, a word in traditional Judaism that means “what is conclusive, finished, certain” by emphasis.  We will see how important this is in the next few verses.

Topical Index: salvation, yāšaʿ, crucifixion, Messiah, forgive, Psalm 3:2

^[1] Scott, J. B. (1999). 81 אַיִן. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 37). Moody Press.

^[2] Hartley, J. E. (1999). 929 יָשַׁע. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 414). Moody Press.