Psalm 93 reflection

Kelly Madden

1 The Lord is King and has put on glorious apparel; * 

the Lord has put on his apparel and girded himself with strength.

2 He has made the round world so sure * 

that it cannot be moved.

3 Ever since the world began, your throne has been established; * 

you are from everlasting.

4 The floods have risen, O Lord; the floods have lifted up their voice; *

the floods have lifted up their waves.

5 Mightier than the sound of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, *

the Lord who dwells on high is mightier.

6 Your testimonies, O Lord, are very sure; * 

holiness adorns your house for ever.

(New Coverdale (BCP2019))

Time and tide, we are told, do not wait. They move on. They bring change, irresistibly. Such expressions are remnants of ancient cosmologies. Modern ways of thinking have weakened our ability to understand biblical imagery and symbolism, even if we have not had much training in the empirical tools of modern science. We must relearn the ancient way of seeing. Psalm 93 is a lesson in the biblical language primer. 

Here we have two central, opposite motifs of cosmology: time and space. These opposites are found in symbolism common to many ancient cultures, represented in constant battle.

Time is change, the wheel turning around the axle, cycles, ephemerality, dynamism, and danger, manifested in seas, great waves, and floods. Oceanfront property is so valuable partly because of the ever-changing vista of the sea. 

The spatial motif is stability, the pillar supporting the square-framed house, permanence, stasis, and security, manifested in dry land and especially the mountain height. If we enjoy watching the sea even during a storm, it’s from a warm and dry home, safe inside, looking out. 

The Almighty rules over both time and space, from the primordial, flooded first stages of his creation, to the habitable world we see by the third day of Genesis 1. 

Occasionally, God lets the waters slip the leash. They roar. They threaten us. The marvels of modern underwater exploration, with its videography and diving technologies, and childhood swimming lessons at the local pool—they all hide this reality from us. But watch videos of tsunamis and floods, or even just a seabather surprised by a wave, and try to imagine. Since its founding in 1642, the fishing town of Gloucester, Massachusetts, alone, has lost 10,000 fishermen to the sea. The sea is darkness and mystery, the dwelling place of monsters. The sea is awesome, fearful. 

But not to God. 

Kingdoms rise and fall. God’s creative work endures. But the Lord himself is “from everlasting to everlasting”—beyond time and change. He reigns from the heights. His dominion, his throne and his house, are unshakeable. He speaks to the waves, calms the storm, re-establishes the limits of the waters. Holiness—his unpolluted, unchanging purity and goodness—makes his house beautiful. 

What is your vantage point in the storms of life? Are you snug inside, as it were, whatever the weather? Have you built your life on his Word (“testimonies”)? If so, Jesus says later, claiming this imagery for himself, your life will not fall. (Matt. 7:24ff) Even should you die, you are secure in him, in the assurance of his resurrection, and yours. His everlasting life is your future also. 

(For more on this biblical symbolism, see Matthieu Pageau,The Language of Creation: Cosmic Symbolism in Genesis: A Commentary, 2018.)