Scripture Reading: Psalms 108-110

Some mountains don’t rise from the earth—they rise in the soul. They form quietly through the slow build of pressure, the sting of injustice, or the subtle weight of doubt. And while we often long for God to move them instantly, the psalms remind us that His power doesn’t always begin with removal—it often begins with realignment. These aren’t psalms offered after the victory—they are prayers breathed in the middle of the climb.

Psalm 108 – Praise Before Victory

Before a single step is taken into battle, David sings. His heart is not stirred by adrenaline or strategy, but by confidence in the faithfulness of God. “O God, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and give praise, even with my glory” (Psalm 108:1). This is not reactionary praise—it is preemptive, rising not from present security but from trust in a God who does not change. David calls upon the dawn to awaken, declaring that worship will not wait for the outcome but will precede it. His voice rises with resolve because he knows the One who reigns above every outcome.

This psalm, which draws from the words of Psalm 57 and Psalm 60, stitches together praise and petition into a single anthem of trust. David’s courage is not manufactured—it is inherited from the promises of God. He rehearses the power and the covenant of the Lord, saying, “God has spoken in His holiness: ‘I will rejoice; I will divide Shechem and measure out the Valley of Succoth’” (Psalm 108:7). The language is not poetic filler—it is covenantal confidence. When God speaks, He does not speak vaguely; He speaks with precision, naming places, portioning land, and reclaiming what was once contested.

And then, in verses 8 and 9, David names names—not just to boast in territory, but to proclaim divine ownership over both allies and adversaries. “Gilead is Mine, Manasseh is Mine; Ephraim also is the helmet for My head; Judah is My lawgiver. Moab is My washpot; over Edom I will cast My shoe; over Philistia I will triumph” (Psalm 108:8–9). These aren’t mere tribal boundaries—they are declarations of spiritual geography. Gilead and Manasseh represent inheritance secured. Ephraim, the warrior tribe, is pictured as protection. Judah, from whom kings would come, is identified as God’s lawgiver. But the tone shifts when he speaks of Israel’s enemies—Moab reduced to a basin for washing, Edom treated like a servant over whom God tosses His sandal, and Philistia left not unconquered, but celebrating under divine dominion.

These verses do not merely describe territory—they reveal a God who rules with precision, a King who does not leave borders to chance, and a Lord who will not allow the threats of the enemy to rewrite His covenant plan. David sings with this vision in view—not because the battle is over, but because God’s promises have already gone ahead.

When we, like David, find ourselves facing territory we have not yet conquered—when the ground under our feet still shakes with uncertainty and the enemies of fear, failure, or delay draw near—it is the song that steadies us. Not the song of triumph once all is resolved, but the song of praise before the victory comes. For the God who measures valleys and rules nations is also the God who inhabits the praise of His people. “Through God we will do valiantly, for it is He who shall tread down our enemies” (Psalm 108:13).

Psalm 109 – Plea Under Pressure

There are moments when betrayal does not come from enemies on the outside but from voices once trusted—when opposition wears the face of someone familiar, and the heart aches not from distance, but from proximity. David opens this psalm not with declarations of strength, but with an exposed cry: “Do not keep silent, O God of my praise!” (Psalm 109:1). The God he addresses is not distant—He is the One David has praised, the One David trusts to speak when human justice falls silent. But as the psalm unfolds, David is not silent about his pain. He describes false accusations, slander, and attacks that twist truth into weapons: “They have also surrounded me with words of hatred, and fought against me without a cause” (Psalm 109:3). These wounds are not superficial—they are personal, calculated, and unjust.

David is not asking God to overlook injustice—he is asking God to intervene. The imprecatory language that follows is difficult to read because it is painfully honest. David prays for God to hold the accuser accountable, to expose the intent behind the lies, and to let the curse of the wicked return upon their own heads. These are not vengeful words spoken in rage—they are petitions from a heart that refuses to take revenge into its own hands. David’s cry may sound harsh, but it is handed upward, not outward. He brings his anguish before the throne rather than acting upon it.

And yet, even in his desperation, David’s posture shifts. “But You, O God the Lord, deal with me for Your name’s sake; because Your mercy is good, deliver me” (Psalm 109:21). The very same lips that named the betrayal also speak of mercy. He confesses weakness, not to gain pity, but because he knows the Lord draws near to the humble. He is mocked and misunderstood, “a reproach among men” (Psalm 109:25), yet he leaves his vindication in God’s hands, praying that his accusers would see and be ashamed—not for David’s sake alone, but so that the righteousness of God would be made known.

David does not end in anger—he ends in worship. “I will greatly praise the Lord with my mouth; yes, I will praise Him among the multitude” (Psalm 109:30). His circumstances have not yet changed, but his voice has returned to its rightful rhythm. The final verse is not a cry of collapse—it is a declaration of trust: “For He shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those who condemn him” (Psalm 109:31).

There are times in our lives when false accusation presses in and the weight of injustice feels unbearable—when doing good is met with evil and silence feels like abandonment. In those moments, the invitation is not to retaliate, but to release—to bring every wound before the One who still stands at the right hand of the afflicted. Like Jesus, who “when He was reviled, did not revile in return,” we are called to entrust ourselves to the One who judges justly (1 Peter 2:23). God does not ignore injustice, nor does He minimize the pain of betrayal. He sees. He hears. He responds. And in the place where falsehood rises, He will be our defender.

Psalm 110 – Power Declared

Some psalms echo the pain of man; others thunder with the decree of Heaven. Psalm 110 does not whisper—it declares. It opens not with a cry, but with a coronation: “The Lord said to my Lord, ‘Sit at My right hand, till I make Your enemies Your footstool’” (Psalm 110:1). David is not speaking about himself—he is seeing someone greater. These words stretch beyond the battlefield and beyond the throne in Jerusalem; they reach into eternity, into the heavenly realm where the Father speaks to the Son and appoints Him as King forever. This is not metaphor or liturgy—it is prophecy.

David describes a reign marked not by compromise, but by conquest. “The Lord shall send the rod of Your strength out of Zion. Rule in the midst of Your enemies!” (Psalm 110:2). The authority is not passive—it is active, extended, and unchallenged. Yet the people who follow this King do so willingly, arrayed in holy garments and full of youthful strength (Psalm 110:3). This is not a kingdom built on coercion—it is formed through the surrender of hearts, and its strength is found in the purity of its devotion.

Then the psalm reaches its priestly center. “The Lord has sworn and will not relent, ‘You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek’” (Psalm 110:4). No other figure in the Old Testament held both the office of king and priest—but here, David sees One who does. The reference to Melchizedek is not accidental; it is foundational. Like Melchizedek, this figure is both ruler and intercessor, reigning with justice and ministering with mercy. This verse, quoted multiple times in the New Testament, points directly to Christ, who alone holds eternal priesthood and unshakable dominion (Hebrews 7:17).

The final verses describe the fullness of His reign—not only in title, but in execution. “The Lord is at Your right hand; He shall execute kings in the day of His wrath” (Psalm 110:5). This is not a passive reign tucked into ceremony—it is global, decisive, and just. The King will judge the nations, shatter resistance, and lift His head in victory, even as He drinks from the brook in the way—refreshed and resolute (Psalm 110:6–7). There is no hesitation in this Messiah—only movement forward, crowned in authority and grounded in humility.

In a world that exalts influence yet trembles at instability, Psalm 110 reminds us that the throne of Christ is not symbolic—it is sovereign. His reign does not wait for permission, nor does it depend on human agreement. We do not follow a hopeful leader or a well-meaning prophet—we follow the risen and reigning King whose priesthood cannot be revoked and whose rule will not be undone. Even now, Christ sits at the right hand of the Father, reigning in both power and intercession, and “He always lives to make intercession for us” (Hebrews 7:25). When our strength feels spent or the enemy feels close, we do not need a new position—we need a renewed perspective. For the One who reigns in the midst of His enemies still reigns in the midst of ours.

Final Reflection

The mountains that move in these psalms are not the ones made of stone—they are the ones hidden beneath the surface of the heart: the mountain of pride that seeks control, the mountain of pressure that pushes against righteousness, and the mountain of fear that questions whether God still reigns when the enemy roars. In Psalm 108, David lifts his voice not because the battle is behind him, but because the promise is still in front of him. His praise is not reactive—it is resolute, declaring trust even before deliverance is seen. In Psalm 109, his plea rises from a place of betrayal and injustice, yet his voice, though strained, remains directed toward Heaven, not against man. And in Psalm 110, we are not just invited into David’s struggle—we are lifted into the throne room of the Messiah, the One whose rule is not momentary, but eternal.

This movement—from praise, to plea, to power—is not a progression of emotions, but a revelation of who God is in every season. When our hearts feel torn between singing and silence, between grief and glory, we are reminded that God receives our songs, hears our cries, and answers with strength. The King we serve is not passive in our pain, nor distant in our battles. He has already spoken, already sworn, and already secured the victory. And when the mountains within us begin to shift—when trust deepens, when surrender rises, and when faith fixes its eyes on the right hand of God—we will find that the mountains around us were never stronger than the God who reigns above them.

Prayer

Lord,
You are the God who steadies us before the battle, defends us beneath the weight of accusation, and reigns above every enemy with unshakable power. Teach us to lift our voices in praise not only after victory, but before it; to bring our pleas to You without fear that they will be ignored; and to see You rightly—as the exalted King, the eternal Priest, and the faithful Defender of our souls.

Where we have relied on our own strength, turn us again to trust. Where we have been wounded by false words or unfair judgment, let us find healing in Your nearness and hope in Your justice. And when we forget that You still rule, remind us—not through force, but through the fire of Your Word and the gentle weight of Your Spirit.

May our hearts remain steadfast, our faith remain anchored, and our hands remain lifted—because You, O Lord, are faithful.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Journaling Prompt

Which mountain are you standing in front of right now—one that invites praise, one that presses you with pressure, or one that challenges your perspective of God’s power? Reflect on where you’ve been tempted to take control, stay silent, or doubt that He reigns. What would it look like to lift your hands—not because the mountain is gone, but because He is still on the throne?

Our Scripture reading schedule for the days ahead:

Day	Date	Scripture Reading
Sunday	May 25	1 Chronicles 23-25

In Christ,

Mrs. O 🤍