Kings and queens don’t mean much to us today. The British royal family makes the news from time to time, but it’s usually because of their clothing styles and romantic escapades. They are almost completely relegated to figurehead status. They’re an expensive British habit.
But there was a time when kingship meant something. Royalty meant rule. Sovereignty demanded obedience. People bowed before thrones.
Part of the American story is the rejection of monarchy. Where others have found security in the longterm rule of a single sovereign, we have an overwhelming urge to unseat anyone who is at the top too long. Athletes, musicians, actors, politicians, and anyone else in our celebrity culture, we love to see them fall from their great heights.
But a strong concept of kingship is absolutely essential to any biblical spirituality. Of the many metaphors for God in the Bible — Shepherd, Father, Rock, Fortress, etc. — the image of God as King towers over them all. In fact, the others barely register in comparison. Because of this, every other metaphor merely modifies how we view God as King. He is the King who shepherds us. He is the King who adopts us and fathers us. He is the King who is the rock we can hide behind. And so on.
The Psalms immerse us in this language of God’s sovereignty and Psalm 99 does so exuberantly if briefly, offering some unique perspectives that shape our spirituality in response to Yahweh’s kingship.
It begins with a simple, two-word statement that defines everything else that follows: Yahweh reigns!
(Most translations render the divine name Yahweh as “the LORD” in all caps. There are reasons for this, including the third commandment and Jewish reading tradition, but I think it’s a mistake. The main reason being that it’s not what the text actually says. The second being that when we trade a name for a title, our relationship with that person is changed. But for this post, we’ll use the NIV and deal with it.)
The LORD reigns,
let the nations tremble;
he sits enthroned between the cherubim,
let the earth shake.
Great is the LORD in Zion;
he is exalted over all the nations (Ps. 99:1-2).
God’s reign here very intentionally includes all nations, all the earth. Yahweh’s rule over his people Israel is referenced, but the psalmist is adamant that this rule extends to everyone everywhere — “let the nations tremble … let the earth shake … he is exalted over all the nations.” Each stanza ends with the tremors that overtake the world when Yahweh is exalted over them and they realize just who they are dealing with. They are overcome with awe, with humble reverence in the presence of a power far beyond anything they’d ever imagined.
This global wonder is matched by a local familiarity with the kingship of God. What the rest of the world is just becoming aware of, God’s people have known and honored for a long time.
As the first line states, Yahweh reigns. He’s already king. He’s already ruling.
The part about “he sits enthroned between the cherubim” is a reference to the ark of the covenant in the Most Holy Place in the temple. In one way of thinking of it, the ark was merely a pretty storage box, containing the stone tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed, Aaron’s rod that budded, and a container with some manna in it. But the ark was far more than that. Covered in gold, it had a cherub on each end with wings stretched toward the middle. Between those cherubim was where the Presence of God sat. Yes, sat. For this was God’s throne.
Now, was the temple in Jerusalem the real throne room of God? Not really. It was a representation of the heavenly throne room of God, with the ark being a representation of the heavenly throne of God. But here’s the thing with images and symbols: For them to have the power they’re intended to have, we need to treat them as if they are the reality they symbolize. (Treating the bread of communion as “just a symbol,” removes all power from it. Receiving it as the “real presence” of the body of Jesus actually nourishes us with his life. This isn’t magic. This is the intent of the symbol Jesus gave us. This isn’t a mind trick. This is experiencing the reality behind the symbol, since symbols exist to point to realities and not just to ideas.)
Is God’s throne really in heaven? Yes. Is the ark God’s throne right here in the middle of us on earth? Yes.
This is why the psalmist continues by stating, “Great is Yahweh in Zion.” Zion is the little mountain on which Jerusalem was built. And on Zion’s summit sat the temple, God’s courtroom and home in the middle of his people.
God is already enthroned at the very heart of his people. And all the world is coming to realize that he is King over them as well. Therefore, they should join us in worshiping him.
Let them praise your great and awesome name —
he is holy (Psalm 99:3).
Psalm 99 does something we see elsewhere in the Psalms which drives grammar teachers nuts. It switches back and forth between addressing Yahweh directly to talking about him. But I think it’s brilliant.
The psalm starts out talking about God, his kingship and greatness. It’s all third person and objective. But the psalmist simply can’t stay objective. He gets caught up in what he’s describing. And because of that, he can’t just talk about God. He has talk to God.
We’re pretty used to this in worship. We hear the Scriptures read and sermons preached about God. But we also sing and pray to God. There’s a continual back and forth throughout each worship gathering, weaving objective words about God with subjective words to God. Some people hate this. They feel like they’re talking about someone in the room as if he’s not there.
But we do this more often than we realize. We do it when we’re introducing two people who don’t each other or don’t know each other very well. I may say to Mary, “This is Joe. He’s a carpenter and he can build just about everything. He’s been a very loyal friend to me.” And then I might turn to Joe and say, “I’ll never forget the time you stood up for me.”
That’s what’s going on here. We’re being told who God is. But the psalmist can’t help but turn to God and speak to him directly. It’s an important pattern for us all. We introduce others to God and learn more about him from one another. But we always turn toward him and engage him ourselves, refusing to leave him awkwardly standing in the room while we only talk about him and never talk to him.
And then at the end of verse 3, the psalmist adds something else. Not only is Yahweh the King, he’s holy. Each of the three sections of the psalm ends with a simple statement of the holiness of God: “he is holy” (v. 3), “he is holy” (v. 5), and “Yahweh our God is holy” (v. 9).
Now, holy means “set apart” or “other,” but I prefer the word “different.” God is strange. He’s not what we expect. He’s different from every other concept of “God” that’s out there.
When Psalm 99 was written, there were lots of competing concepts of “God” floating around, especially among the nations the psalm has already referred to. They had Baal and Apsu and Ra and long lists of other major and minor deities. And the psalmists wants his listeners to know that Yahweh is different from the rest. He’s different because he’s the King of the whole world. But not only that, he’s different because of his character. The way that he goes about exercising his kingship is different from the ways others exercise their power. He’s holy. He’s different.
But he’s not just different from ancient concepts of “God.” He’s different from many of our current conceptions.
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard people say, “The God I believe in …” and then articulate things their “God” would or wouldn’t do. Sometimes, they say, “I could never believe in a God who …” and inwardly I cringe. Because what we end up with is a DIY God that doesn’t actually exist outside of our minds.
The biblical term for that kind of God is “idol.” And the Scriptures don’t speak highly of idols or the people who worship them.
So, what is this different, holy God like?
The King is mighty, he loves justice —
you have established equity;
in Jacob you have done
what is just and right (Ps. 99:4).
The power of the King isn’t used for himself, but for others. He doesn’t use it to push people down, but to lift them up.
So much of the power in the world is used in ways that lead to injustice. The rich get richer on the backs of the poor. The vulnerable get abused by the strong. The insiders exclude the outsiders. We see it every day.
In the ancient Near East, the nations were used to harsh gods, lustful gods, angry gods, abusive gods. The Babylonian pantheon created humans as slaves. Our purpose was to feed them at their gluttonous banquets or suffer their wrath. Not so with Yahweh. He doesn’t enslave; he set slaves free. And amazingly, Jesus washes our feet and offers himself as our feast.
Just as Yahweh’s kingship is already known among his people, so his justice is known among them as well: “in Jacob you have done what is just and right.” The rest of the world can believe in the justice of the world’s King because it’s already been evident in Jacob, in the people of Israel.
And so the psalms breaks out in a call to worship with a chorus that will be repeated at the end of the psalm with a few elaborations.
Exalt the LORD our God
and worship at his footstool;
he is holy (Ps. 99:5).
The footstool is associated with the throne, again pointing to the temple on Zion. The reason the footstool is mentioned is that those who worship there are bowing down to the ground.
We exalt Yahweh and humble ourselves, knowing he is good and loving him for it.
Again, we know he is good because that’s how he’s treated his people. That’s why we have all those biblical stories. And so the psalmist gives us a brief history lesson in two parts.
Moses and Aaron were among his priests,
Samuel was among those who called on his name;
they called on the LORD
and he answered them.
He spoke to them from the pillar of cloud;
they kept his statutes and the decrees he gave them (Ps. 99:6-7).
Moses and Aaron led the Exodus by which God rescued his people and established them as a nation. Samuel anointed the first two kings of Israel, establishing the monarchy. Samuel is rarely referred to outside of 1 Samuel but shows up here since the psalm is centered on kingship and he was Israel’s kingmaker.
But the main thing we humans do, as expressed by these key people in Israel’s history, is call on God. It’s mentioned twice. And what does God do? It’s mentioned twice as well. He answers. He speaks. And when he speaks, we obey. We keep his statutes and decrees.
That in a nutshell is our relationship with God: In our need, we call out to the King in prayer. Hearing us, he answers, speaking to us the words we need to hear (even if we don’t always like them). And hearing what he says, we do what the King says. We “keep” these words, not only obeying them, but treasuring them.
LORD our God,
you answered them;
you were to Israel a forgiving God,
though you punished their misdeeds (Ps. 99:8).
Any reference to either the Exodus or Israel’s kings has to deal with the messes associated with them. Just as there were ten plagues and Ten Commandments, there were also ten acts of rebellion against God in the wilderness during the Exodus. And there was more bad than good among the kings of Israel and Judah.
We’re all a mess. Every single one of us is a fiasco. We just are. We are called to be holy just as Yahweh is holy — to be different from the people around us just as Yahweh is different from those lustful, abusive gods — but we’re more like the culture around us than like Jesus. But thankfully, the justice of God is matched by the forgiveness of God.
Even so, God lets our sins leave their marks. We don’t get away unscarred. And this too is a mercy.
I have a scar on my left hand from when I was in fifth grade. It’s the result of the foolish combination of a hammer, a screwdriver, and a bullet. When the bullet exploded, it ripped apart the fleshy part of my hand. My fingers were spared and I lack any significant injury, but I do have a pretty nice scar. And I’ve never hit a bullet with a hammer since then.
Exalt the LORD our God
and worship at his holy mountain,
for the LORD our God is holy (Ps. 99:9).
In the final chorus, we are called to exalt Yahweh our God. He is the King. And he uses his kingship for the sake of justice. For Yahweh our God is holy. He’s different from us and from any other “God” concept we or others have. He’s far better.
And we do this worship at his holy mountain, at his special mountain, at Zion. It is the center of the earth in a biblical imagination.
Kingship and worship radiate out from Zion and return to Zion.
That cherub-flanked throne and that Jerusalem temple are the seat of Yahweh’s kingship and worship. This is why Revelation 21 offers us an image of a New Jerusalem the size of the known world descending to earth and filling all the world with the kingship and worship of God (Rev. 21:9-21). Because of this, the entire world has become the temple of God as it was intended to be when God created it in the first place, erasing the need for any other temple (Rev. 21:3, 22). On that day, Psalm 99 will have been fulfilled.