Psalms 68

Psalm 68 is a parade, and it is best read as one, with the noise turned up. It begins with the words Moses shouted every time the ark of the covenant was lifted to move through the wilderness, God arises and his enemies scatter, and then it follows God on the march. He rides on the clouds, a title Israel's neighbors gave to their storm god and this psalm takes for the LORD. Before he does anything else he is named as the father of orphans and the defender of widows, the God who puts lonely people into families and walks prisoners out into the open. Then the psalm remembers the road: the earth shaking at Sinai, rain pouring on the desert, the flock settling into the land, kings fleeing so fast that the women at home divide the loot, snow on a black mountain. Bashan, with its many peaks, looks on jealously as God chooses a small hill called Zion for his home, and arrives there with ten thousand chariots, leading captives and receiving tribute, a verse Paul would later turn around to describe Christ ascending and giving gifts. In the middle of the triumph is a line for ordinary days: blessed be the Lord, who carries our burden every day. Then the procession itself comes into view, singers in front, musicians behind, girls with tambourines between, Benjamin and Judah and Zebulun and Naphtali in their places, all heading into the sanctuary. The psalm ends by inviting Egypt and Cush and every kingdom on earth to join the singing, because the God of Israel, awesome in his sanctuary, gives strength to his people.