Holding Faith and Trust in the City of Lies

Psalm 120 opens the collection of fifteen Songs of Ascents (Psalms 120–134), a group of short pilgrimage psalms sung by Israelites as they traveled up to Jerusalem for the great festivals. The superscription, 'A Song of Ascents,' anchors the psalm in the rhythm of covenant life: faithful Israelites physically ascended toward the dwelling place of God's name, and in doing so they rehearsed their trust in the One who 'answers' from Zion. Within this pilgrimage sequence, Psalm 120 functions as the threshold lament—the worshiper arrives already burdened, not by the journey's terrain but by the moral climate among whom he or she sojourns. The psalm names two geographical stand-ins for hostile cultures: Meshech, a far northern people associated in the Table of Nations (Genesis 10:2) with distant, warlike tribes, and Kedar, a desert people descended from Ishmael (Genesis 25:13) whose tents were proverbial for raiding and unrest. By pairing these names, the psalmist paints a picture of being squeezed between violent worlds—neither at home in the citadel of covenant nor in the wilderness of the tent. The imagery of 'a warrior's sharp arrows, with hot coals of broom-wood' (v. 4) is widely understood as a mashingal, or proverbial taunt, against the deceitful tongue: just as burning broom-wood scorches and arrows pierce, so slander wounds deeply and inflames quarrels. The vocabulary of judgment is implicit here; the theology of exile and divine discipline runs beneath the surface, because a community whose speech has become weaponized against its own members is itself a sign of life lived apart from shalom. For the faith-filled reader, the psalm therefore provides more than personal comfort—it offers a diagnostic: when 'I am all peace; but when I speak, they are for war' (v. 7), the disciple recognizes that the path of trust must run uphill, toward the God who hears, before it can run outward, toward the neighbor. The psalm thus sets the entire Ascents collection on its true foundation: faith is not the absence of conflict but the habit of carrying every conflict into the presence of the answering God.

Set in the Davidic era of united Israel's kingdom centered in Jerusalem, a period marked by royal worship, pilgrimage songs, and trust in Yahweh's protection.

Psalm 120 teaches that faith is verb-shaped before it is noun-shaped. Verse 1 is the entire theological thesis in a single line: 'In my distress I called to the LORD—who answered me.' Faith begins as an action under pressure—calling (qara'). The Hebrew verb qara' is the same verb used for Abram's 'calling upon the name of the LORD' (Genesis 12:8) and for Israel's cry from Egypt (Exodus 3:7). To have faith in this psalm is not first to affirm propositions about God; it is to lift the voice. The second movement of faith is trust (batah), which appears implicitly in the certainty with which the psalmist can petition God against a 'deceitful tongue': he does not doubt that God hears, only that the human court is unsafe. Third, faith is the willingness to remain in the discomfort of contrast. The singer lives 'with Meshech' and 'among the clans of Kedar,' yet declares, 'I am all peace' (v. 7). Faith, then, includes the costly confession that one's own peace is not contingent on the surrounding culture. Finally, faith here is forward-looking. The psalm is the first rung of an ascent that will climax in Psalm 134 with night-time blessing and in Psalm 122 with the prayer 'May they be secure who love you' (shalom). The faith that begins in calling will mature into communal shalom. For the Christian reader, the trajectory is unmistakable: Christ, the greater pilgrim, ascended not to Jerusalem only but through Jerusalem to the Father (John 20:17), and He now invites His people to walk in the same upward trust. The deceitful tongue is finally judged at the cross, where the words 'I am he' (Mark 14:62) silence every slanderer, and the coals of broom-wood fall on the One who absorbed them so that His people could ascend without burning.

1. Make calling your first reflex, not your last resort. When deceitful speech wounds you—whether at work, online, or in family—train yourself to voice a short, specific prayer before you vent, text back, or escalate. Psalm 120 models a 24-hour response time: distress → call → God's answer. The discipline is brevity plus direction. 2. Name the contrast without pride. 'I am all peace; but when I speak, they are for war.' The psalmist does not deny the hostility around him; he simply refuses to let the surrounding war redefine his identity. In a polarized culture, ask the Spirit to keep your inner 'I' aligned with shalom even when the room chooses conflict. 3. Watch your own tongue. The psalm names arrows and coals as the fruit of deceitful speech (v. 4). Before forwarding the message, before posting the comment, before repeating the rumor, ask: would this word be an arrow in someone's chest? Faith and trust grow downward as well as upward—they take root in a mouth that refuses to weaponize language. 4. Treat your small group or church as a 'school of ascent.' The Songs of Ascents were sung in community, not alone. Find a few believers with whom you can rehearse Psalm 120 honestly—sharing the Meshechs and Kedars of your week and praying one another upward. 5. Remember where the road ends. The first step of the ascent is a cry for help; the last step is a night-song of blessing (Psalm 134:1-3). Your present distress is real, but it is rung one of fifteen. Keep climbing.

Lord, I confess that I am still on the lower slopes. My tongue has sometimes been an arrow, and sometimes the target. Teach me to call upon You before I call upon anyone else. Grant me the steady trust of a pilgrim who knows that You answer, even when the road is long and the city of lies surrounds me. Plant Your shalom in me so that, like the psalmist, I can be 'all peace' in rooms that choose war. Carry me up these fifteen steps, one prayer at a time, until I stand in Your house and bless Your name. Amen.