Psalms 39:1 - Meaning and Application

David here remembers, and leaves on record, what was going on in his heart during his troubles. It is good for us to do the same, so that what was wrong may be corrected, and what was right may help us next time.

He first recalls the promises he had made to God, to walk carefully and be very cautious about what he did and said. When we are tempted to sin, especially a certain sin, we should call to mind the solemn vows we have made against it. God can remind us of those vows, as in Jeremiah 2:20, where he says, “You said, I will not transgress,” so we should remind ourselves too.

David remembers that he had generally decided to be very careful in his conduct. “I said, I will take heed to my ways” (Psalm 39:1). That was a good resolution, and one he should never take back. It is a great duty for each of us to watch our ways, while others live carelessly. We should firmly decide to do so, and renew that decision often, because a bound promise is easier to keep. Once we have made that resolution, we must keep bringing it back to mind, since it is a covenant we should never forget.

He also remembers that he had especially promised to guard against sins of the tongue, to avoid speaking in ways that would dishonor God or hurt the generation of the righteous (Psalm 73:15). It is not as easy as we would like to keep from sinning in thought. But if a bad thought rises up, we should lay a hand on our mouth, stop it there, and not let it go further. This is such a high level of self-control that if anyone does not offend in what he says, he is a mature person. It is also so important that if someone seems religious, but cannot control his tongue, his religion is worthless.

David had resolved, at all times, to watch against sins of speech. “I will keep a bridle, or muzzle, on my mouth.” He would keep a bridle on it, like one keeps control of a horse, and a muzzle on it, like one restrains an unruly dog. Strong, steady resolve, helped by God’s grace, can keep corruption from breaking out in words, though the tongue is hard to rule.

He would especially guard himself when there was the greatest danger of doing harm, “when the wicked is before me.” If he was with wicked people, he would be careful not to say anything that might harden them or give them cause to blaspheme. Good people who fall into bad company must watch their words closely. Or, if “the wicked is before me” means in his thoughts, then when he considered the pride, power, and success of evil people, he felt tempted to speak badly, and so he would be doubly careful. The stronger the temptation, the stronger our resolve must be against it.

In line with these promises, he struggled hard to hold his tongue. “I was dumb with silence; I held my peace even from good” (Psalm 39:2). His silence was commendable, and the more he was provoked, the more praise he deserved for keeping quiet. Watchfulness and firm resolve, by God’s grace, can do more to control the tongue than we might think, even though it is an uncontrolled evil.

But what are we to make of his keeping silent even from good? Was he wisely refusing useful talk before the wicked, so as not to cast pearls before swine? I think rather that this was weakness. Because he thought he could not speak safely, he said nothing at all, and went to an extreme. That was against the law, which calls us to keep a wise middle path. The same law that forbids corrupt speech also requires words that are good and helpful for building others up (Ephesians 4:29).

The less he spoke, the more he thought, and the hotter his feelings became. Covering up the trouble did not remove it. “My sorrow was stirred, my heart was hot within me” (Psalm 39:3). He could restrain his tongue, but he could not yet calm his spirit. As he kept thinking about his troubles and about the success of the wicked, the fire within him grew stronger.

People who are often unhappy and easily irritated should not brood over their troubles too long. When they keep their minds fixed on what hurts them, they feed the fire of discontent, and it burns harder. Impatience is a sin that starts inside us, in the way we think, and shows itself in the burning unrest that follows. If we want to prevent uncontrolled feelings, we must first correct uncontrolled thoughts.

At last he spoke, and what he said was to the point. Some take his words as a failure of his earlier resolve, and think that he sinned with his tongue. They understand what follows as a rash wish to die, like Elijah (1 Kings 19:4) and Job (Job 6:8-9). But I think it is better understood as a correction of his mistake in being silent too long. He had held back from speaking anything good, but he would not do that any longer. He had nothing to say to the wicked around him, because he did not know how to say it rightly. Then, after much thought, the first thing he said was a prayer, and a serious meditation on a subject we all need to think about.

He asks God to make him feel the shortness and uncertainty of life, and the nearness of death. “Lord, make me to know my end and the measure of my days” (Psalm 39:4). He does not mean, “Lord, tell me exactly how long I will live and when I will die.” We cannot rightly pray for that, because God has not promised to reveal it. In his wisdom, he has kept that knowledge among the secret things that do not belong to us, and it would not be good for us to know it. Rather, David means, “Lord, give me wisdom and grace to think about it and to use that knowledge well” (Deuteronomy 32:29).

The living know that they will die (Ecclesiastes 9:5), but few want to think about death. So we need to pray that God would, by his grace, overcome our natural dislike of that thought. “Lord, make me consider what death is.” It is my end, the end of my life and of all the work and pleasure that belong to it. It is the end of all people (Ecclesiastes 7:2). It is the final close of our time of testing and preparation, and the awful entrance into a time of reward and judgment. For the wicked, it is the end of every joy. For the godly, it is the end of every grief.

“Lord, help me know my end, to become more familiar with death, and to feel how great the change will be” (Job 17:14). Help me think seriously about what it means to die. “Lord, help me consider how few my days are, since they are fixed by your wise plan” (Job 14:5). The end is set, and my days are limited. They will soon be counted and finished.

When we think of death as far away, we are tempted to put off preparing for it. But when we remember how short life is, we see that we must do what lies before us, not only with all our strength, but with all possible speed. “Lord, help me consider how weak I am, how small my supply of life is, and how faint my spirit is, which is like the oil that keeps a lamp burning.” Every day shows us that this earthly tent we live in is wearing out. Lord, make us see this, so we will secure homes in the house not made with hands.

He also thinks about how brief and empty life is, and he brings that truth before God for relief under life’s burdens, as Job often did. He also brings it before himself, so he will be stirred up to the work of life. Human life on earth is short and does not last, and that should make us hold it loosely and prepare for the end (Psalms 39:5). “You have made my days like a handbreadth,” the width of four fingers, a very small measure that we always carry with us, always before our eyes. We do not need a rod, a pole, or a measuring line to size up our days, and we do not need arithmetic to count them. Our time is short, and God has made it so, for the number of our months is with him. It is short, and he knows it is short: “It is nothing before you” (Psalm 39:13; Psalm 79:11).

Human life on earth is also empty and without lasting value. So it is foolish to cling to it, and wise to make sure of a better life. Adam, meaning man, is Abel, meaning breath or vanity, in his present state. He is not what he seems to be, and he does not have what he hoped for. He and all his comforts are always uncertain, and if there were no life after this one, then, all things considered, he would have been made in vain. He is vanity because he is mortal and changeable.

Notice how strongly this is said. First, every person is vanity, without exception, high and low, rich and poor, all alike. Second, he is vanity at his best, when he is young, strong, healthy, wealthy, honored, and at the height of prosperity, when he feels safe and thinks his position is firm. Third, he is entirely vanity, as vain as anyone could imagine. All of man is all vanity, as it may be read, because everything about him is uncertain. Nothing is solid and lasting except what belongs to the new man, the renewed person in Christ. Fourth, “surely” shows this is certain truth, though we are very unwilling to believe it and need it repeated to us again and again. Fifth, “Selah” is added as a call to pause and think. Stop here and reflect carefully, so you can apply this truth: every person is vanity.

To prove that man is vain because he is mortal, the psalmist mentions three things. First is the emptiness of our joys and honors: “Surely every man walks,” even when he walks in style or in pleasure, “like a shadow,” like an image, like a vain display. When a man makes a great show of himself, his fame quickly passes away, and his pomp is only empty display (Acts 25:23). It is just a show, and so it is a vain show, like a rainbow, whose bright colors soon vanish because it rests on a cloud, a vapor. Life is like that too (James 4:14), and so are all its pleasures.

Second is the emptiness of our griefs and fears. Surely they are troubled in vain. Our worries are often groundless, because we upset ourselves for no real reason, and what troubles us often comes from our own imagination. And they are always useless. We disquiet ourselves in vain, because no amount of worry can change what things are or alter God’s plan. Things will still be what they are after we have fretted about them.

Third is the emptiness of our cares and hard labor. A man works hard to pile up wealth, but it is like heaps of manure in the furrows of a field, useless unless it is spread out. When he fills his storerooms with his goods, he does not know who will gather them up or who will receive them after he is gone, because he cannot take them with him. He does not ask, “For whom am I laboring?” and that is his folly (Ecclesiastes 4:8). Even if he did ask, he could not know whether the one who gets it will be wise or foolish, a friend or an enemy (Ecclesiastes 2:19). This too is vanity.