Psalm 4: Sleeping in the Light
At twilight the king prays, and the strings answer. “For the director of music. With stringed instruments.” This is not private religion. Psalm 4 is a public lament turned evening catechism—a lesson in how a heart comes to rest while the city’s torches still flicker.
God of my righteousness
David opens, “Answer me when I call to you, my righteous God” (New
International Version). In Hebrew it is “Elohei tzidqi”—not simply
“righteous God,” but “God of my righteousness,” the One who both
declares and defends my right. He adds, “In distress you have made room
for me.” The verb means “you have widened me.” Ancient Israelites spoke
of trouble as a narrow place; God is the spaciousness. Luther heard here
the grammar of justification; God does not merely supply comfort—He
becomes our standing.
Confronting the powerful
“O sons of man” likely reads “bnei ish”—men of rank. David isn’t
scolding the masses; he’s calling out the influencers who “love empty
things.” In a harvest culture, “grain and new wine” signaled success—and
often the favor of Baal. Archaeology and Ugaritic texts show harvest
feasts centered on fertility gods. Against this, David dares to say,
“You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new
wine abound” (New International Version). Joy in Yahweh competes with,
and surpasses, the economy.
Tremble, then be still
“Be angry, and do not sin” (New International Version) translates rigzu,
which can mean “tremble.” The sense is: let holy awe shake you; but on
your bed, be silent. In Israel, the bed was the place of nightly examen.
Jews to this day recite Scriptures before sleep; the early church placed
Psalm 4 at Compline. Paul quotes this line in Ephesians 4:26 and adds,
“Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.” Deal with the
storm before the night; return your soul to harbor.
The Face that shines
“Let the light of your face shine on us” echoes the priestly blessing
(Numbers 6:24–26). Calvin noted that true good is not possession but
Presence. Augustine heard deeper music: in “I will lie down and sleep,”
he saw the Church imitating Christ, who slept the sleep of death and
rose in peace. When God’s face shines, we are carried through the
dark—whether the darkness is a room, a season, or a grave.
Right sacrifices and right silence
“Offer right sacrifices” (zivkhei-tzedek) can mean sacrifices that are
just, or sacrifices offered justly—with a whole heart. The
superscription “with stringed instruments” reminds us that worship
involves resonance. After words, there is Selah: a pause while the
strings hum. Learn the pause. In a loud age, silence is not empty; it is
faithful.
The sabbath of the nerves
“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, LORD, make me dwell
in safety” (New International Version). The Hebrew “together I lie down
and sleep” hints at an integrated life—no divided heart keeping vigil
with anxiety. Jesus slept in the storm because He lived before the Face.
Each night is a small baptism: we surrender consciousness and trust
awakening to Another’s keeping.
Suggested hymn: “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended.”
Cross-references
- Numbers 6:24–26; Habakkuk 3:17–18
- Ephesians 4:26; Philippians 4:6–7
- John 14:27; 2 Corinthians 4:6
- Psalm 3; Psalm 91
Prayer
Lord of my righteousness, widen my narrow places. Shine Your face upon
my dim rooms. Teach me the holy tremble that ends in quiet trust.
Receive the sacrifice of my attention, my anger, my desire for control.
Give me joy deeper than harvests and peace stronger than storms.
Tonight, let me lie down and truly sleep, for You alone make me dwell
secure in Jesus Christ. Amen.