
The Psalms easily contain some of the most beloved and revered texts of Scripture. We are quick to resort to them whenever we are confused, weary, anguished, hurt, or lost. We seek them out because they seem to possess an uncanny ability to speak into the pain and noise we endure on a daily basis. Though lyrical and poetic, the Psalms are nonetheless honest. Indeed, what makes them so beloved is their sheer relatability. Even as they are populated with peoples, places, and practices that are foreign to us, they seem to correspond to situations with which we are all too familiar. This is just to say that the Psalms are human. All of mankind’s deepest longings are put into Hebrew verse, so to speak, making them an effective way to cope and/or celebrate.
The problems facing mankind have not changed all that much since the days of the psalmists, even though the world around us has. It makes sense, then, that the very first of the Psalms is concerned with the most foundational truths in all of life — namely, the chasm that exists between the righteous and the wicked. The psalmist, whoever he was, uses the imagery of trees and chaff to demonstrate the vast difference between those who are blessed and those who are not. “He is like a tree,” he says, “planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away” (Ps. 1:3–4). The difference could not be more apparent. Indeed, the contrast is as great as the difference between the mighty sequoia of the Sierra Nevada and the discarded shell of a boiled peanut in the bleachers.
Understanding this difference is not only the concern of this psalm, it is also the concern of the rest of Scripture. We could very well abridge the drama of God’s revealed Word to what the psalmist describes in the first Psalm. There is a pathway to blessing, to standing in the light of being known by the Lord, without the slightest hint of guilt or dread. That, in effect, is what is revealed in the whole of Scripture. To wrap our minds around this crucial difference between the righteous and the wicked, the trees and the chaff, we should note three distinct lessons the psalmist conveys.
A lesson about resistance.
The blessedness of which the psalmist speaks is identified by what it resists, by what it does not do. “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,” we read, “nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers” (Ps. 1:1). The psalmist makes an immediate connection between the one who is “blessed” and the one who refuses to entertain the allure of those who oppose the Lord. That is the common denominator among the wicked, the sinners, and the scoffers, each of which describes those who mock and disparage the Lord at every turn. The “counsel,” or advice of the wicked, is expressed in a cascading slide into convenience. From walking to standing to sitting, the Lord’s adversaries insist that their method for finding and enjoying life’s blessings is just as legitimate and fulfilling as God’s. But in their dismissal of the Lord’s wisdom, they likewise abandon any hope of ever experiencing true blessing, which only comes from God. The lives of these God-opposers are consumed by hostility toward all that he has deemed good and right. They are full of their own “counsel” and are eager to invite others to participate in their hellbound cause. Such is where the need for resistance emerges.
The word “resistance” likely conjures an array of ideas in your head, many of which are no doubt filled with images of conflict, struggle, and heroic feats of strength. We have an innate affinity for such things. In some ways, we are attuned to the concept of picking up a sword and resisting something, much like we are fond of picturing ourselves decked out in Arthurian armor to withstand the devil’s schemes (Eph. 6:11ff). But the Bible’s portrait of resistance is much less akin to Lancelot and more like laying down and listening. This is the subversive message expressed in verse 2, where the songwriter completes the picture of the one who is blessed by supplying what he does do. Rather than following the wisdom of the wicked, “his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night” (Ps. 1:2).
The blessed person is keen on actively resisting what the world offers, but, to be sure, this resistance does not look like a heroic skirmish on a battlefield. Instead, it looks like muttering the words of God to yourself at midnight. It looks like a continual “delight” in the “law of the Lord” (Ps. 1:2), which, for the psalmist, meant the Torah, that is, the first five books of the Old Testament. Though we are often prone to think too narrowly when we come across the term “law,” like the rest of Scripture, the objective of the Torah is to unfold God’s heart. More than just obeying a to-do list, the Torah contains the words of God’s hope and promise for his people. Perhaps it would be more helpful to render the psalmist’s words this way: “His delight is in the revelation of Yahweh.” At the time of composition, that is how God had revealed himself: through the law. But, for us, we possess the fullness of God’s elaborate self-revelation whenever we hold a Bible in our hands.
There is a wealth of delight to be found within the pages of Scripture, even the Torah. In fact, from the very beginning, God embedded his words as the foundation of his people’s blessing (Josh. 1:8; Deut. 6:6–7). This is indicative of the psalmist’s ambition. This song, in a sense, is a corporate response of resistance to the so-called wisdom of the wicked. As in the days of old, there is only one surefire way to resist the wisdom of the wicked — namely, by rehearsing the Wisdom of the Word (Ps. 1:2). True blessing comes from constantly meditating and musing on the revealed truths of Jehovah God.
A lesson about subsistence.
This blessedness is also recognized by what it feeds on, that is, its subsistence. “He is like a tree,” the psalmist sings, “planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Ps. 1:3). Through the vivid picture of a tree being planted by a flowing river, the writer continues to explain the contrast between the righteous and the wicked. The tree is able to soak up all the needed nutrients from the nearby stream, which allows it to grow from a flimsy sapling into a strapping, sturdy oak, with branches that reach far and wide and roots that plunge deep into the earth. This tree is fruitful and durable, which is an apt metaphor for those who are blessed.
But it is critical that we do not miss what makes this true to flourish and thrive. In short, it is not about the tree, specifically, but about where it is planted (Ps. 1:3). Properly speaking, this tree is a transplant, which is what the word “planted” implies. This tree did not originate from this stream but was planted there by someone else on purpose. There was a loving, caring intent to see this tree thrive. Someone else is directly responsible for its flourishing, and the same is true for those who are blessed by God. The blessed person is not blessed because they are so tree-like, because they are so strong and sturdy in and of themselves. Rather, the blessed person receives the blessing of God, and that is what makes them strong and sturdy, like an oak by a vibrant stream. The blessing of God is not a prize to be achieved. It is a gift to be received.
Trees, of course, cannot plant or re-plant themselves. Neither can we work our way into God’s favor. Just like the tree that has been transplanted in order that it might thrive, the blessing of God is something that is done to us (Ps. 92:12–15). It is God’s Spirit that roots us and plants us firmly in the soil of God’s Word. This is what allows us to prosper. The fruit we bear is the result of the Spirit’s labors in us and on us. It is his work, not ours, that ultimately matters. As the apostle Paul would later write, “For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13). It is only as we subsist on the rich, verdant soil of the revealed Word of God that we are not only made to resist but to flourish. If we try to subsist on anything else, we will end up like the chaff that is thrown away and tossed to the wind.
“The wicked are not so,” continues the psalmist, “but are like chaff that the wind drives away” (Ps. 1:4). “Chaff,” of course, is a term that refers to the dry, scaly casing of a head of grain. In layman’s terms, it is similar to a peanut shell. It is arid and light and indigestible to human beings. The chaff of any harvested grain is good for livestock feed and little else. This, then, brings the contrast full circle. Whereas the tree is rooted and fruitful, the chaff is rootless and barren. God’s blessing only comes to those who are planted in the rich soil of the Word and are made to saturate in the life-giving water of the Spirit. “The one who says no to the world (Ps. 1:1) and yes to Yahweh’s word (Ps. 1:2) is the one who is both rooted and lively (Ps. 1:3),” comments Dale Ralph Davis (19). There is nothing nutritional about a diet of chaff. Unlike the blessed person, those who take counsel from the wicked, the sinners, and the scoffers are attempting to subsist on nothing of value, on indigestible rubbish. Those who are taking counsel from the wisdom of the world are trying to survive on nothing but peanut shells. No one can subsist on that for very long.
A lesson about existence.
This brings us, at last, to the ultimate difference between trees and chaff, between the righteous and the wicked, and it concerns our ultimate existence. “Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,” the psalmist says, “nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish” (Ps. 1:5–6). Once again, the songwriter emphasizes the contrast that has been at the center of this entire stanza by plainly stating what will become of the wicked, the God-opposers. Those who step into eternity opposing the Lord, stiff-arming his benefits, will not be able to stand on judgment day. They cannot stand because they have no roots, and they have no roots because they have not been planted by the water of the Word. In the end, their way is nothing but oblivion and destruction. They will be brushed aside and tossed to the wind like the chaff at the end of the winnower’s fork (Isa. 17:13). Because they have chosen to fill themselves on nothing but their own wisdom, their ultimate existence is one of eternal perishing (Matt. 3:12). This is the ominous thud that closes this oft-quoted psalm.
But the contrast could not be more beautiful or more hopeful. Whereas the wicked are unable able to stand or endure that fateful day of judgment, the righteous can and will stand on that day because the righteous are those who are known by the Lord (Ps. 1:6). This might sound like a curious hope, but it is, in fact, one of the more precious and profound truths in all of Scripture. To be “known” by God is to be seen by him, which is suggestive of deeply personal knowledge. The fact that the Lord “knows the way of the righteous” is indicative of his perceptive grace, which sees us for who we are and blesses us anyway. This gets to the heart of God’s revealed Word, which aims to show us the way in which we are blessed. Blessing doesn’t come by us trying to make ourselves better or more lovable; by doing more and trying harder. That is the “counsel of the wicked”; that’s chaff. Those who are truly blessed are those who have received God’s most foundational message — namely, that he knows us for who we are and dies for us anyway (Rom. 5:8).
This, then, gives us the fullest picture of what that pathway to blessing looks like — it is a way that is entirely concerned with the gift of God’s blessing. How are human beings able to stand in the light of God’s judgment? How are frail men and women able to face the onslaught of grief and loss without withering? How are we who are so prone to imbibing on the wisdom of the wicked able to resist? It is the Word that matters, especially the Word enfleshed. You see, it is the Christ of God who perfectly accomplishes the wisdom of this psalm. “The Lord knows the way of the righteous,” Jared C. Wilson says, “because he is the way of the righteous” (27). And he establishes that way for us at the very beginning of his vicarious life and ministry when he withstands the taunts and the “counsel” of the devil in the wilderness through the rehearsal of his Father’s words (Matt. 4:1–11).
Jesus’s resistance to Satan’s wisdom to turn stones into bread, to throw himself off the top of the temple, and to kneel before him showcases the divine fact that the subsistence of the blessed is nothing more or less than God’s own words and that the existence of those who are blessed is wrapped up in worshiping him alone. Your ultimate existence and mine are tethered to the true and better Incarnate Blessed One who comes to flawlessly fulfill every single syllable of Scripture. The battle for your blessedness was already fought and won by the Christ of God. And it is through him alone that we resist. It is on him alone that we subsist and exist. There is only one pathway to a life of faith and blessing: through what Christ alone has done.
Works cited:
Dale Ralph Davis, The Way of the Righteous in the Muck of Life: Psalms 1–12 (Ross-shire, Scotland: Christian Focus, 2020).
Jared C. Wilson, “Day 10: The True Man,” The Sinner / Saint Devotional: 60 Days in the Psalms, edited by Daniel Emery Price (Irvine, CA: 1517 Publishing, 2018).