“Psalm 143: Rescue”
Original sermon given on March 26, 2025 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church from the Lenten series of Penitential Psalms from Repentance to Rejoicing.
Watch the sermon live.
“Psalm 143: Rescue”
Psalm 143
Psalm 143
In the name of the Living God and the Crucified Christ. Amen.
Full disclosure: I’ve never preached on this Psalm before, and in fact have never really even studied it until this sermon series. Perhaps this is because 143 comes up only once in the lectionary (assigned readings) every three years. Or maybe it as something to do with the fact that in addition to being one of the Penitential Psalms, it’s also one of the so-called “Imprecatory Psalms” — that is, one that is prayed against your enemies, often using curses and even graphic, violent language. (We get enough of that in the world, so who needs it in Church too, right? But more on the enemies in Psalm 143 later.)
But after immersing myself in this psalm of “rescue,” I think it’s going to move to the top of Pastor Jeff’s Power Rankings of Psalms. I’m going to write 143 in my “Lent Madness” Psalm bracket all the way to the championship. Why is it so compelling? Because the writer’s situation is so desperate, his prayer is in such earnest, and his rescue/ deliverance is so singularly dependent upon God.
We don’t know the particulars of this situation, but it’s clearly very desperate. “For the enemy has pursued my soul (my essential self); he has crushed my life to the ground; he has made me sit in darkness like those long dead. Therefore, my spirit faints within me; my heart within me is appalled/dismayed” (143.3-4).
We might say the writer is out of strength, out of time, and out of breath. Either literally, figuratively, or both, he’s in a “real dark place”. Either literally, figuratively (or both) his spirit (ruah/breath) faints and fails.
Although rather dark and desperate, in a way we might find this strangely reassuring. This is a lament God has given us in his word, and so He has also given us both the permission and power to pray it. And none of us prays this alone. Because every phrase in this psalm is so heavy with distress, no matter how difficult things get, you’re not alone in what you’re experiencing.”[1] Someone else has been through it. The writer has put pen and voice and song the desperate experiences of any of us when we feel the enemy pursuing, crushing, and burying us.
Because his situation is so desperate, his prayer is of such earnest intensity. The first words out of his mouth are, “Yahweh Hear!” “Adonai Shema! Listen to my cries for mercy.” (143.1) The intensity of his prayer is such that it overtakes him physically too. “I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.” (143.6) Maybe you can relate? Have you ever been in such a distraught situation that your prayers actually got physical? Flat on the ground? Literally on your knees? Praying while running as hard and fast and far as you can? Hands in your face? Arms lifted to God? Or that it felt like your very soul longed for God’s rescue like a dry desert needs water? This is an earnest prayer indeed. It’s words giving voice to any of us when we need rescue.
And I find this Psalm compelling because his rescue/deliverance is so singularly dependent upon God. There’s no other deliverer. No other name to call upon. No other love that can reach him. No other nourishment to revive his soul. No other’s works to recall. The pursuing and crushing and burying enemy has at least done this for him: taken him to a place where he knows only God can rescue: “Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord! I have fled to you for refuge. Teach me to do your will… Let your good Spirit lead me…” (143.9-10)
Note well not just that he calls upon the Lord alone for rescue, but also how he does. He knows God’s name and nature.
God’s name: Yahweh, the personal “I am that I am” given to Moses at the burning bush. This is the saving, rescuing God. There could be no more sure thing than God’s personal name, for what he’s called is who he is, and who he is how he acts.
God’s nature: at the heart of God is steadfast love and mercy. This is the God who seeks and saves; rescues and redeems the lost. This is the God who reaches deep into the darkness, right down to the bottom to where crushed bones lie.
And now for the enemies: Our Lord Jesus has told us what to do with our enemies: we are to pray for them, return no one evil for evil, and forgive as we have been forgiven. When Martin Luther read the imprecatory portions of these psalms — the prayers against the enemies — he often read them as prayers against the greatest enemies of sin and death and the devil. This is how I want you to read this Psalm, and it will come to life for you.
When Satan the Accuser won’t shut up about your past. When the weight of your sins drags you down into the darkness. When fear or despair pursues you night and day. Even when the last great enemy, death, snarls as you thinking he has the victory, remember who we cry out to. This is our God, creator of the heavens and the earth, who did not abandon us to our enemies but sent the one great Rescuer, Jesus Christ, Joshua Messiah.
Jesus Christ is the full and final revelation of the name and nature of God. “Jesus” so named because he will save his people from their sins. Christ/ Messiah, anointed one to march even into death and hell to rescue those defeated, imprisoned, enslaved. At his incarnation the rescue work was begun, at his cross and resurrection it is accomplished for all people of all time. Christ, our Rescue
I’d like to close with the most beautiful image in Psalm 143. Verse nine reads, “Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord! I have fled to you for refuge.” Another translation has it, “Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in you.” Fleeing into God as fortress; hiding in Him for protection and peace. St. Paul says in Romans 6 that in our baptism, we are buried into Christ Jesus. St. Paul writes in Colossians 3 that we died and our life is now “hidden with Christ in God.”
In Christ. That’s the only place I want to be.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
[1] Derek Kidner, Psalms, 475