To the pain

There are just a few perfect movies out there and The Princess Bride is one of them. Immensely quotable, a former roommate recorded the audio from the movie and listened to it over and over and over again during a summer he spent on a fishing boat in Alaska.

One of the many great scenes in the movie is when Wesley faces the evil Prince Humperdink and challenges him to a duel not to the death, but to the pain.

Wesley: “To the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet, below the ankles. Then your hands, at the wrists. Next, your nose —”

Humperdink: “And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.”

Wesley: “I wasn’t finished. Next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right.”

Humperdink: “And then my ears. I understand. Let’s get on with it!”

Wesley: “Wrong! Your ears, you keep, and I tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness shall be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman that cries out, ‘Dear God, what is that thing?’ will echo in your perfect ears. That is what ‘to the pain’ means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.”

As with the rest of the movie, the scene derives its humor from being so over-the-top. But there are times when we suffer that we want others to suffer for what they’ve done to us. We don’t want them to die. We want them to suffer “to the pain.”

Wanting this doesn’t feel very Christian, especially with Jesus telling us to forgive our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us. But the feeling is genuine. And there are times when we can’t get to the forgiving and positive praying for other until we’ve first had the chance to pray “to the pain” prayers against our tormentors.

Psalm 59 is one of a handful of “to the pain” psalms. The superscription places the prayer historically: “When Saul had men sent to watch David’s house in order to kill him.” The story is found at length in 1 Sam. 19:11-17. It’s a sad one, where his father-in-law, King Saul, sends men to kill David. And Saul’s daughter, Michal, who is married to David, puts an idol in their bed to make it seem as if David is sleeping there. This raises all kinds of family issues, plus the question: What are David and Michal doing with an idol in their home?

All that to say, life has gone haywire. Relationships are severely twisted. Personal pain is everywhere. And so, in the middle of all this, David prays.

Deliver me from my enemies, O God;
    be my fortress against those who are attacking me.
Deliver me from evildoers
    and save me from those who are after my blood (Ps. 59:1-2).

David starts with a plea for deliverance. “Help” is one of our most basic prayers. There are times when we’re weak and vulnerable and the powerful one have it in for us. The elementary playground, the office boardroom, the local bar, the church coffee hour, the wrong neighborhood, the job review, the basketball court — there are lots of places where we find ourselves at the mercy of others and “help” comes to our lips.

Having looked to God for help, David’s eyes shift from God to his haters, and his language shifts from “you” to “they.” He will keep shifting back and forth throughout the psalm.

See how they lie in wait for me!
    Fierce men conspire against me
    for no offense or sin of mine, LORD.
I have done no wrong, yet they are ready to attack me.
    Arise to help me; look on my plight! (Ps. 59:3-4).

An honest reading of 1 Samuel shows David to be a political animal. Before he ever fights Goliath, he goes from group to group within Israel’s army, asking the same question over and over: What will the king give to the one who defeats the giant? (See 1 Sam. 17:25-31.) And it works. He gets an audience with the king which leads to him be named champion of Israel. He does this sort of thing often.

Is it wrong to be aggressive in your self-promotion? Not at all. I just read a comment about the people at the Grammy Awards. The musician said something to the effect of “We’re not the best musicians out there. We’re the best at promoting ourselves.”

But people who promote themselves make enemies, especially among those whom they have leapfrogged along the way. We read that “Whatever mission Saul sent him on, David was so successful that Saul gave him a high rank in the army. This pleased all the troops, and Saul’s officers as well” (1 Sam. 18:5). But I’m pretty sure not “all” were pleased. Enemies were made and they waited their chance to bring down the golden boy.

We don’t like to think of having enemies, but sometimes our successes lead to jealousies and people choose to ally against us. There are plenty of unwritten rules out there that we may break while believing we’re playing by the book.

Having looked at those out to get him, David turns again to God in a plea for help.

You, LORD God Almighty,
    you who are the God of Israel,
rouse yourself to punish all the nations;
    show no mercy to wicked traitors (Ps. 59:5).

Now, if this is an internal affair among the people of Israel, why does David say, “rouse yourself to punish all the nations”? That’s the kind of language you might expect if the enemies were Philistines or Babylonians, not Israelites. Some commentators suggest that this psalm doesn’t refer to David’s situation but was written or edited later to refer to larger national conflict.

But it’s not uncommon to use outsider language with adversaries. It’s not uncommon for a sibling to say, “You’re not my brother!” And I can’t count how many times I’ve seen squabbles on Twitter where someone from one theological persuasion will write about those of another, “No follower of Jesus would ever ….”

It’s so common to over-emphasize divisions between us and others when we’re angry with them. And the use of outsider language is one of our tried and true ways of doing so. We do it to cause emotional pain when we’re unable to cause physical pain. And sometimes these cuts go the deepest.

The call to withhold mercy is easy for us to brush over, but it’s easily as intense as the call to punish. Where punishment is an active doling out of suffering, withholding mercy is a passive refusal to give the good within one’s power. Together, they can team up like co-dependent parents — one who abuses and one who allows the abuse. Asking for this matched set only comes from a deep experience of pain.

They return at evening,
    snarling like dogs,
    and prowl about the city.
See what they spew from their mouths —
    the words from their lips are sharp as swords,
    and they think, “Who can hear us?” (Ps. 59:6-7).

We get the first of two chorus in the psalm, with verse 6 repeated in verse 14 and verse 10 repeated in verse 17. The first chorus is about “them,” and the second is about God, matching the back and forth nature of the psalm.

They are dogs. And not pet dogs. They are wild and dirty and hungry and ready to bite. They are vicious and fearless and sly.

But this set of “they” seems different from the “they” who entered David’s apartment to kill him. This set of “they” are the ones who poisoned King Saul against David by their words. “Their lips are sharp as swords.” They kill from a distance, using others as their weapons. These are David’s real enemies.

They are God’s enemies too, because they think they can do whatever they want without God noticing it. “Who can hear us?” is really “God is deaf.”

But God does notice what’s going on. And he gives a mirthless laugh similar to that of Ps. 2:4. Their posturing and self-importance is cartoonish and will leave them in a slapstick pile on the ground.

But you laugh at them, LORD;
you scoff at all those nations.
You are my strength, I watch for you;
    you, God, are my fortress,
    
my God on whom I can rely (Ps. 59:8-10a).

“I watch for you” is David’s basic posture. Yes, his eyes dart to the side to keep his haters within sight. But his primary focus is on God. That’s where the real action is.

“Haters gonna hate, hate hate,” as Taylor Swift croons. But better than shaking it off, we look to God on whom we can rely.

And then we get to the “to the pain” part of the psalm.

God will go before me
    and will let me gloat over those who slander me.
But do not kill them, LORD our shield,
    or my people will forget.
In your might uproot them
    and bring them down.
For the sins of their mouths,
    for the words of their lips,
    let them be caught in their pride.
For the curses and lies they utter,
    consume them in your wrath,
    consume them till they are no more.
Then it will be known to the ends of the earth
    that God rules over Jacob (Ps. 59:10b-13).

Let them suffer, but don’t let them die. Let them be a constant reminder to people of what God does to liars like them. In that, it matches Wesley’s words to Humperdink. And yet the ultimate goal is different. It’s not revenge. It’s evangelism.

While this is surprising on the surface, there is a logic to it. A quick consequence is quickly forgotten. (That’s one of the reasons why David donated the sword and armor of Goliath to a shrine. He wanted the victory to be remembered. See 1 Sam. 17:54 and 21:9.) But a long, drawn-out consequence will be a continual reminder. And the reminder will not be of David’s desire for revenge, but of God’s commitment to justice.

When the vulnerable see the drawn-out downfall of the arrogant, they are reminded that there is a God after all. And that this God does not let the powerful do whatever they want.

They return at evening,
    snarling like dogs,
    and prowl about the city.
They wander about for food
    and howl if not satisfied (Ps. 59:14-15).

David returns to his first chorus, remembering what kind of people these violent tormentors are. They are insatiable.

And then he turns to God again. God gets the final word. God gets David’s last and lingering glance. The haters have gotten enough attention.

But I will sing of your strength,
    in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
    my refuge in times of trouble.
You are my strength, I sing praise to you;
    you, God, are my fortress,
    
my God on whom I can rely (Ps. 59:16-17).

The morning is an image of hope throughout the Psalms.

I may be benighted now, swallowed in darkness. But the morning cannot be held back. It will come and no man can stand in its way. God’s coming victory is assured. And so too are the songs of praise I will sing when that victory is accomplished.

And so the chorus rises again in anticipation. The chorus of evil has ceased. But the chorus of God resonates, echoing on and on and on as the psalm fades.