Psalm week 3 — The King Who Suffers, Shepherds, and Reigns | Psalms 22–24

Psalms 22–24 form one of the Bible’s most remarkable portraits of Jesus. Journey from the cry of the suffering King, through the comfort of the Good Shepherd, to the triumphant entrance of the King of Glory. Discover how these psalms proclaim the Messiah centuries before His birth and reveal God’s faithful plan of redemption.

Transcript

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May the Lord bless you and keep you and make his face shine upon you. May he be gracious to you and turn his face toward you and bring you peace. Matter mind.

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Ancient book. Psalm 1 showed us the blessed way. Psalm 2 revealed the Lord's anointed King. Psalms 3 through 8 taught us how the righteous pray when that way becomes painful. They pray while surrounded. They pray morning and night. They pray with trembling. They pray through tears. They bring injustice before the judge. And they look up and remember. O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth. Now we come to Psalms 22 through 24, and the prayer journey deepens. Psalm 22 begins with one of the darkest cries in Scripture. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Psalm 23 answers with one of the most trusted confessions in Scripture. Psalm 24 ends with one of the strongest royal declarations in Scripture. Who is this King of Glory? Three Psalms, three movements, cry, shepherd, glory. The cry of Psalm 22 rises from darkness. The shepherd of Psalm 23 walks through the valley. The gates of Psalm 24 open before the king of glory. We should be careful. The text does not tell us that these Psalms were originally written as a formal trilogy, but in their present sequence, they create a powerful canonical journey. The whole earth stands before the King of Glory. The movement is not from suffering to denial. The valley remains, the enemies are still present, but none of those things receives the final word. The cry is not the end of the story. The shepherd remains present. The king of glory still reigns. Psalm 22 teaches us that faithful people cry. Psalm 23 teaches us that faithful people are shepherded. Psalm 24 teaches us that faithful people worship the King of Glory. The episode begins with felt abandonment. It ends with universal kingship. It begins with one suffering voice. It expands to the congregation, then to the afflicted, then to the nations, then to generations not yet born. It passes through the shepherd's pasture, paths, valley, table, and house. Then it lifts its eyes over the whole earth and asks, Who may approach the Lord? Who is this King of Glory? This is not three unrelated teachings. It is one movement. Suffering becomes prayer. Prayer becomes testimony. Testimony becomes praise. The shepherd remains present. The King of Glory reigns. And when the New Testament opens these Psalms in the light of Jesus, the movement becomes even clearer. Jesus enters the cry. Jesus reveals the shepherd. Jesus reigns as the risen Lord. But we will not rush there. First, we must hear the Psalms inside Israel's covenant worship. We must let Psalm 22 cry. We must let Psalm 23 guide us through the valley. We must let Psalm 24 examine our hands, our hearts, and our allegiance. Only then are we ready to see how the story reaches its fullness in Jesus. The cry is real. The shepherd is near. Each of these Psalms is connected to the Davidic collection. The heading commonly translated of David should be respected. It may indicate authorship, association, dedication, or placement within a Davidic collection. We should not claim more precision than the text gives us. Psalm 22 does not identify the exact historical event behind its suffering. We should not confidently place it during Saul's pursuit, Absalom's rebellion, or another specific crisis. The Psalm became larger than one unknown moment. It became language for the suffering faithful. Psalm 23 uses imagery David knew well. David had been a shepherd. David became a king. But the confession is larger than autobiography. The Lord is my shepherd, became a covenant confession for generations of God's people. Psalm 24 belongs to Israel's worship. It declares the Lord as creator, holy king, and victorious divine warrior. Its question and answer language may reflect a procession or sanctuary entrance. That is plausible. But the text does not identify the exact ceremony, so our approach must stay careful. We will use strong claims where the text is clear. We will mark probable reconstructions as probable. We will distinguish original setting from later fulfillment, and we will let the movement of the Psalms carry the teaching. Psalm 22 begins with anguish. The sufferer experiences God is far away. Yet he continues to say, My God, that matters. The feeling of abandonment has not erased the covenant address. The relationship is wounded by experience, but it has not been surrendered. The sufferer remembers that Israel's ancestors trusted the Lord. He remembers dependence on God from birth. He describes mockery, bodily collapse, exposure, enemies, and danger. Then the prayer turns. The sufferer anticipates telling God's name in the assembly. The afflicted will eat and be satisfied. The nations will remember and turn to the Lord. Future generations will hear what God has done. Private suffering becomes public testimony.

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Public testimony becomes worldwide praise.

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Rod, staff, enemies, table, anointing, overflowing cup, goodness, steadfast love. The house of the Lord. This is not merely a poem for the final moments before death. It is a confession for the whole journey. Then Psalm 24 widens the frame. The earth belongs to the Lord. The world and all who dwell in it belong to him. The worshiper asks, Who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Clean hands and a pure heart are required. Then the gates are summoned to open. The King of glory enters. So the sequence is clear. Psalm 22 asks, Where is God when the righteous suffer? Psalm 23 answers, The Shepherd is with the worshiper, even in deep darkness. Psalm 24 declares, The Shepherd is not only near, he is the universal king. The Lord who walks with the sheep is the Lord of hosts. The one who prepares a table is mighty in battle. The one who guides the individual owns the whole earth. Cry, shepherd, glory. The cry is not the end of the story. The shepherd remains present. The king of glory still reigns. It carries the sense of being left, abandoned, or left behind. The sufferer feels distant from divine rescue. At the moment, rescue is most needed. He cries by day. There is no answer. He cries by night. There is no rest. This is not mild disappointment. This is spiritual anguish. And scripture gives the anguish words that matter. Faithful prayer is not always calm. It does not always begin with clarity. Sometimes it begins with, Why?

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Why are you far away?

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Why is there no answer? Why does the pain continue? The Psalms do not shame that prayer, they preserve it. But notice the first two words, My God. Eli, Eli, my God, my God. The cry begins with forsakenness. It also begins with belonging. The sufferer feels abandoned, but he has not stopped speaking to God. He does not say, There is no God. He says, My God, where are you? That is lament. Lament is not the abandonment of faith. It is wounded faith refusing to stop speaking to God. The experience says distance. The covenant address says relationship. The sufferer holds both. You feel far away. You are still my God. This is one of the most important lessons of Psalm 22. Covenant faith does not require us to deny felt distance. It teaches us where to speak from, inside it. Then the sufferer remembers, yet you are holy. Our fathers trusted in you. They trusted, and you delivered them. When present experience gives him little evidence of rescue, he borrows courage from the remembered faithfulness of God. Israel's ancestors cried, God delivered. They trusted. They were not put to shame, but the memory creates tension. God delivered them. Why does rescue feel absent now? The sufferer is not reciting history as a quick solution. He is bringing history into the argument of prayer. You were faithful before. You are still holy. You remain the God of Israel's praise. So why do I feel abandoned now? This is covenant prayer. It remembers what God has done and asks him to act according to his character. Then the language becomes more painful. But I am a worm and not a man. Scorned, despised, mocked. People stare, they shake their heads, they use his trust in God against him. He trusted in the Lord. Let him deliver him. Let him rescue him, for he delights in him. Mockery does something cruel. It takes the language of faith and turns it into a weapon. The sufferer trusted God. Now the crowd uses that trust to deepen the humiliation. They do not only say, You are weak, they say, your God has failed you. This is suffering made public. It is pain under observation. Pain under ridicule. Pain surrounded by voices interpreting it as divine rejection. Still, the sufferer remembers. You took me from the womb. You made me trust at my mother's breast. From my mother's womb, you have been my God. The psalm moves from ancestral memory to personal memory. God was present before the sufferer could explain faith. God held his life from the beginning. This is not sentimental. It is an argument of dependence. I have belonged to you from birth. My life began under your care. So do not be far from me now. The repeated plea is nearness. The opening said, Why are you so far? Now the sufferer asks, Do not be far from me. The deepest need is not merely changed circumstances. It is God's presence. Trouble is near. The sufferer asks God to be nearer. Then the imagery closes in, strong bulls surround him, lions open their mouths, dogs encircle him, evildoers gather around him. The sufferer is poured out like water, bones are out of joint. The heart melts like wax. Strength dries like broken pottery. The tongue clings to the mouth. Psalm 22 does not separate the human person into neat compartments. The whole person suffers, the body weakens, the heart melts, the voice dries, the crowd mocks, God feels far, death feels near. This is why we must not explain the pain away too quickly. The psalm gives suffering weight. Faith does not require us to call agony easy. Then we reach a difficult textual line. Psalm 2216 has an important Hebrew and translation question. Some translations read, They pierced my hands and feet. The traditional Mesoretic form is often rendered like a lion, my hands and feet. Other ancient textual evidence supports a verbal reading. We should not make this disputed phrase carry the whole teaching. The gospel connections to Psalm 22 do not depend on one debated line. The Psalm's larger pattern is already clear. A righteous sufferer is surrounded, mocked, exposed, weakened, threatened by death. His garments are divided, lots are cast for his clothing. He cries for God to come near and rescue him. Then the petition reaches its sharpest point. But you, O Lord, do not be far off. O you my help, come quickly to my aid. Deliver my soul from the sword. Save me from the mouth of the lion. The sufferer has moved through felt abandonment, remembered trust, humiliation, bodily collapse, and danger. But he is still praying. That may be the greatest act of faith in this section. He has not received the outcome yet. He has not reached the public testimony yet. He has not seen the nation's turn. But he keeps addressing God. My God, do not be far. Come quickly. Deliver me. Save me. This is covenant perseverance. The cry is not polished, but it is directed. The pain is not small, but it has been brought before God. The sufferer experiences God as distant, yet he refuses to stop saying, My God. The cry is not the end of the story. Near the end of verse 21, the prayer turns. The Hebrew can be rendered abruptly. You have answered me. Punctuation and verse division require care. Whether we hear those words is the end of the petition or the first note of assurance. The movement is unmistakable. The suffering voice begins anticipating testimony. I will tell of your name to my brothers. In the midst of the congregation, I will praise you. The sufferer has been isolated. Now he sees the assembly. He has been mocked publicly. Now he anticipates praising God publicly. The rescue will not remain private. The sufferer intends to tell the gathered people what God has done. This is the word kahal, the assembly, the congregation, the gathered covenant community. The psalm does not present deliverance as a private spiritual possession. Deliverance creates testimony. What God has done must be told. The rescued person returns to the people and says, Praise Him, glorify him, stand in awe of him. Why? Because God has not despised the affliction of the afflicted. He has not hidden his face forever. He has heard. This is important. The psalm began with felt abandonment. It now testifies that the Lord has heard. The movement is not. The psalmist simply felt better. The movement is confidence and divine response. The sufferer now anticipates public praise. And the circle begins to expand. First, the suffering individual cries. Then the congregation hears. Then the afflicted eat and are satisfied. Those who seek the Lord praise him. Then the ends of the earth remember. The families of the nations turn to the Lord. Then future generations hear. The psalm moves outward. Individual. Assembly. Afflicted. Nations. Future generations. Deliverance becomes larger than private relief. The rescued sufferer turns pain into testimony. Testimony into gathered praise. Gathered praise into witness for the nations. This is one of the most beautiful movements in the Psalter. The psalm begins with one voice in darkness. It ends with generations proclaiming the righteousness of God. The suffering has not been wasted. It becomes proclamation. The afflicted are not invisible. They eat. They are satisfied. They praise. The nations are not outside God's concern. They remember. They turn. They worship. Why? For kingship belongs to the Lord. There is the royal center. The nations turn because the Lord rules over them. The suffering righteous one is not the ultimate king. The Lord is. Psalm 22 begins with apparent divine absence. It ends with divine kingship over the nations. The cry of one sufferer opens into the reign of God over the world. This does not mean every faithful sufferer will see every resolution within the same earthly moment. The Psalms themselves know waiting. They know death. They know unanswered questions. But Psalm 22 declares that suffering does not possess the final word in God's covenant story. God's righteousness will be proclaimed. The word zadaka can speak of righteousness, justice, rightness, and faithful action. The last generation does not praise the sufferer's emotional strength. It proclaims what God has done. A people not yet born will hear. He has done it. The final testimony is about the righteous action of God. The psalm began. It ends. He has acted. That movement is not cheap. It travels through mockery, weakness, exposure, danger, deathly dust, urgent prayer, and testimony, praise, food for the afflicted, worship among the nations, proclamation to future generations. The cry becomes a witness. The suffering becomes part of a story told to people not yet born. And this prepares us for Psalm 23. Because Psalm 22 has asked for God to come near. Psalm 22 began with distance. Psalm 23 centers on presence. Not only. The Lord shepherds Israel. But the Lord is my shepherd. This is covenant confession. The God of Israel is near enough to guide one life. Shepherding in Scripture includes more than tenderness. A shepherd feeds, leads, protects, corrects, counts, searches, defends, brings the flock home. In the ancient world, kings were also described as shepherds. The image could speak of governance, provision, protection, justice, and responsibility. So Psalm 23 presents the Lord as caring shepherd and royal shepherd king. Israel's kings may shepherd under God. But the Lord remains the true shepherd. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. This does not promise that the worshiper receives every desire. It confesses that the shepherd will not fail to provide what is needed for the journey. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside waters of rest. The sheep do not create the pasture. They do not locate safe water alone. They are led. The life of faith begins with dependence. The shepherd knows where life is found. He restores my soul. It can speak of life, self, person, living being. The shepherd restores the worshipper's life. The whole person. He revives what has been depleted. He returns what has wandered. He renews the life entrusted to him. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. The phrase can speak of right and reliable paths. The shepherd does not merely lead to easy places. The right path is not always the painless path that becomes clear in the next verse. Even though I walk through the valley of deep darkness, I will fear no evil. The traditional phrase is the valley of the shadow of death. The Hebrew can also communicate deep or deathly darkness. It includes mortal danger. But it should not be limited to the final moment of physical death. It speaks to every place where darkness becomes deep enough to threaten the traveler. Notice the shepherd does not prevent every valley. The psalm does not say, Because the Lord is my shepherd, I never enter darkness. It says, Even though I walk through it, covenant life includes valleys. Danger remains possible. Enemies still appear. Is not proved by the absence of dark places. It is proved by his presence within them. And here the language changes. At first, David speaks about the shepherd. He makes me lie down. He leads me. He restores me. But in the valley, David speaks directly to him. You are with me. In the green pastures, David speaks about God. In the darkest valley, he speaks to God. The darkness has made the prayer more direct. The shepherd is no longer described from a distance. He is addressed, you are with me. That is the center of Psalm 23. Not the pasture, not the table, not the overflowing cup. Presence. The answer to the valley is not explanation.

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It is companionship. You are with me. You are with me.

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Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. The rod represents active shepherding authority. It can defend, direct, count, correct. It can also carry royal associations. The staff is support. Something leaned upon, something that steadies and guides. His authority protects, his support steadies. This is not passive sentimentality. The shepherd is strong enough to defend and near enough to support. And the image shifts. He prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. The Lord is now pictured as host, but the royal and shepherding themes remain close. The shepherd king sustains the worshiper. The enemies have not vanished, they are present. But they no longer control the table. The enemies can watch. They cannot cancel God's hospitality. They cannot remove the worshipper's place. They cannot overturn the shepherd's provision. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows. The picture is honor, welcome, abundance. The worshiper who passed through deep darkness now sits at a table prepared by God. This is not a promise of shallow luxury. It is the assurance that enemies do not define the covenant relationship. The shepherd does. Then comes one of the strongest closing lines in the Psalms. Surely goodness and steadfast love shall follow me all the days of my life. The word chest speaks of steadfast love, covenant loyalty, faithful mercy. And the verb translated follow can carry the stronger sense of pursuit. The psalmist is still being pursued. But the pursuers have changed. Enemies pursued David. Danger pursued him. Threat followed him. But now he confesses that God's goodness and covenant love pursue him. They do not stroll casually behind. They follow with intention. The worshiper, who once feared hostile pursuit now, sees himself pursued by mercy. This does not erase the enemy. It places the enemy inside a greater reality. God's goodness is after him. God's covenant love will not release him. And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for length of days. The journey ends in God's presence. The shepherd leads toward home. Pasture is not the final destination. The valley is not the final destination. The enemy's presence is not the final destination. The house of the Lord is. Psalm 23 portrays the whole covenant life: provision, rest, restoration, guidance, right paths, deep darkness, presence, protective authority, support, enemies, hospitality, abundance, pursuing covenant love, life before God. We often hear Psalm 23 at funerals, and it rightly speaks hope in the face of death. But it is not only a deathbed poem, it is for every day, every path, every valley, every table, every threat, every season in which the faithful need to remember. The Lord is my shepherd. The right path is not always the painless path. The valley remains a valley. But I do not walk alone. The cry is not the end of the story. The shepherd remains present. And the shepherd of Psalm 23 is about to be revealed as the King of Gory in Psalm 24. Psalm 24 begins with ownership. The earth is the Lord's in the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein. Before the gates open, the Psalm tells us who owns everything. The earth does not belong to its strongest rulers. It does not belong to the loudest nations. It does not belong to those who temporarily hold military, cultural, or economic power. The earth belongs to the Lord. Everything that fills it belongs to him. Every land, every creature, every nation, every person. The shepherd of Psalm 23 is not a local tribal deity. He is creator and universal king. He has founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers. The world exists because he established it. His kingship rests on creation ownership. Then the psalm moves from the whole earth to the holy hill. Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord? Who shall stand in his holy place? The universal king is also holy. His ownership of creation does not make access casual. The worshiper must be examined. The answer comes. He who has clean hands and a pure heart. Hands speak of outward action. The heart speaks of inward allegiance, desire, and intention. Holiness is not outward performance alone. It is not inward sincerity alone. Clean hands and a pure heart belong together. What we do matters. Whom we serve matters. The psalm continues. He does not swear deceitfully. The holy place cannot be approached with divided allegiance. Worship is not a religious moment, covering an unexamined life. The king owns the whole person, hands, heart, words, desire, allegiance. The worshiper receives blessing from the Lord and righteousness from the God of salvation. Again, holiness is not self-manufactured greatness. The person seeks God, receives from God, belongs among the generation of those who seek his face. Then the scene changes. Lift up your heads, O gates. Be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of Glory may come in. The language is dramatic. The gates are addressed as though they must rise to make room for the entering King. Who is he? Who is this King of Glory? The answer: the Lord strong and mighty. The Lord mighty in battle. Then the command is repeated. Lift up the gates. Open the ancient doors. The King of Glory enters. Again comes the question: Who is this King of Gory? The Lord of hosts. He is the King of Glory. The title, Lord of Hosts, presents him as commander of heavenly and earthly forces. He enters as victorious ruler. He is not a vulnerable guest seeking permission. He is the unconquered king. The glory here is cavod. Weight, honor, splendor, majesty. The gates open before the weight of divine kingship. Psalm 24 may reflect a sanctuary procession or entrance liturgy. The question and answer form fits that possibility, but the exact historical ceremony is not named. We do not need to reconstruct every detail to hear the psalm. The Lord owns creation. The worshipper must approach in holiness. The victorious king enters. Creation ownership. Covenant holiness. And the sequence from Psalms 22 and 23 now reaches its height. Psalm 23 confessed, You are with me. Psalm 24 summons the gates to open before his victorious presence. The one who seemed distant is the king who enters. The one who shepherded one life owns the whole earth. The one who walked through the valley is mighty in battle. The one who prepared the table is the Lord of hosts. This corrects any small view of God. The shepherd is tender, but not weak. The shepherd is personal, but not private. The shepherd cares for one worshiper and rules all creation. The gates do not open before David, they open before the Lord. David may be king, but the Lord is the King of glory, and the King's holiness examines his worshippers. We cannot separate the comfort of Psalm 23 from the holiness of Psalm 24. The shepherd who comforts also leads in right paths. The king who welcomes also requires clean hands and a pure heart. Grace does not make allegiance irrelevant. Worship is not casual. The whole earth belongs to him. The cry is not the end of the story. The shepherd remains present. Psalm 22 gives us explicit New Testament quotation and strong gospel illusion. Psalm 23 gives us a wider biblical shepherd pattern fulfilled in Jesus. Psalm 24 gives us biblical. Theological fulfillment, and a later Christian ascension interpretation that must be labeled carefully. We begin with Psalm 22. Matthew and Mark record Jesus praying its opening words from the cross. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Jesus deliberately enters the prayer of Israel's suffering righteous one. The Gospels do not record him audibly reciting the entire psalm. We should not claim that they do. But the opening cry places his suffering within Psalm 22's world. And the gospel writers use more than the opening verse. The mockery around the cross echoes the psalm. People shake their heads. They challenge God to rescue him. His garments are divided. Lots are cast for his clothing. The Gospels repeatedly use Psalm 22 to interpret the cross. Jesus does not merely resemble the suffering righteous one. The evangelists intentionally place Psalm 22's language and imagery around his suffering. But the New Testament does not stop at the cry. Hebrews quotes Psalm 22, 22. I will proclaim your name to my brothers. In the midst of the congregation, I will praise you. Hebrews places those words on the lips of Jesus. The suffering son stands among his brothers and leads the congregation in praise. That means the New Testament follows Psalm 22's movement. Jesus' suffering becomes testimony among his brothers. The cry does not receive the final word. Israel's leaders are expected to shepherd. Many fail. Ezekiel 34 condemns the false shepherds. God declares that he himself will seek his sheep, yet he also promises one Davidic shepherd over them. And Jesus says in John 10, I am the good shepherd. He knows his sheep, he calls them, he gathers them, he protects them, he lays down his life for them. This is not a claim that every detail of Psalm 23 directly predicts Jesus separately. It is the fulfillment of the wider biblical shepherd identity and work. The Lord who shepherds his people reveals his shepherding faithfulness fully in Jesus. Jesus is the good shepherd, the great shepherd of the sheep, the shepherd and overseer of our lives, the chief shepherd. He enters danger, he lays down his life, he gathers scattered sheep, he leads through deathly darkness. The shepherd of Psalm 23 and the sufferer of Psalm 22 meet in him. The shepherd becomes the lamb who gives himself. The one who guides through the valley enters the valley himself.

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We should not present it as a direct New Testament fulfillment statement. But Christians have long heard the lifted gates and the entering king in connection with Jesus' resurrection, ascension, and heavenly enthroned. That is a biblical, theological, and liturgical reading, and it fits the wider New Testament proclamation. Jesus is risen, exalted, Victorious, all authority in heaven and earth belongs to him. He is seated above every authority, power, and dominion. All things are placed under his feet. He is the image of the invisible God.

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So while the New Testament does not explicitly label Psalm twenty-four an ascension prophecy, it reveals Jesus as the universal reigning Lord in that wider light.

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The summons carries full Christian resonance. Lift up the gates, the victorious King reigns. Jesus enters the forsaken cry of Psalm twenty-two, and carries righteous suffering through death into the praise of the congregation.

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He reveals the shepherd of Psalm twenty-three, laying down his life, gathering his sheep, and leading them through deathly darkness, and he is proclaimed throughout the New Testament as the risen and victorious Lord, the universal king, whose reign gives Psalm twenty four its fullest Christian hope.

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The shepherd gave his life.

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God feels far. Prayer feels unanswered. Mockers surround him. Strength leaves him. Death feels near. But the cry still says, My God. The relationship has not been surrendered. The sufferer remembers. He asks God to come near. He continues praying. Then the psalm turns. Deliverance becomes testimony. Testimony becomes praise. The congregation hears. The afflicted eat and are satisfied. The nations remember and turn. Future generations proclaim God's righteousness. The psalm begins with one sufferer crying. It ends with generations hearing what God has done. The cry is not the end of the story. Then Psalm 23 speaks, The Lord is my shepherd. He provides, he restores, he leads on right paths. The right path is not always painless. It passes through deep darkness. But in the valley, the prayer becomes personal. You are with me. His authority protects, his support steadies, enemies remain present, but they no longer control the table. Goodness and covenant love pursue the worshiper.

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The shepherd remains present.

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The earth belongs to the Lord. Everything in it belongs to him. The Holy King examines hands, hearts, words, and allegiance. Then the gates are summoned to open. Who is this King of Gory? The Lord strong and mighty. The Lord mighty in battle. The Lord of hosts. He is the King of glory. The King of Glory still reigns. And Jesus stands at the center of the Christian reading. He prays the forsaken cry. The gospels place Psalm 22 around his cross. Hebrews carries the Psalm Beyond Suffering into congregational praise. Jesus reveals the shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. He enters deathly darkness and leads his people through. He rises. He is exalted. He reigns over every power. So the movement of Psalms 22 through 24 becomes a proclamation of hope. Suffering does not lead to denial. Suffering becomes prayer. Prayer becomes testimony. Testimony becomes praise.

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Psalm twenty-two teaches that faithful people cry.

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Psalm twenty-three teaches that faithful people are shepherded. Psalm twenty-four teaches that faithful people worship the King of Glory. The righteous may suffer, the faithful may walk through deep darkness, the nations may arrange, enemies may remain near, but suffering does not receive the final word.

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Walk the way, modern mind, ancient book.

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May he be gracious to you and turn his face toward you and bring you peace. Walk the way.