The King

And then Peter and John, after they're set free, they go and gather with the church, and they tell the church what happened. So in verse 24 of Acts chapter 4, it says that when they heard it, the church lifted their voices together to God and said — this is their prayer —

24 Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them, 25 who through the mouth of our father David, Your servant, said by the Holy Spirit, "Why did the Gentiles rage, and the peoples plot in vain? 26 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers were gathered together, against the Lord and against His Anointed" —

So just a flat-out quotation of Psalm 2 in their prayer, and they say:

For truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the people of Israel.

But then they say to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place. This is the earliest record of persecution of the church for the sake of Jesus. I think it's important to notice how they respond. They don't stage a protest. They pray. They gather together and they pray. This is the earliest prayer recorded of the early church. And they pray together around Psalm 2 and the reality that it lays out — that we are in the midst of a conflict, and that the nations and the kings and the peoples are doing whatever they can to do their own thing in their own way.

So verse two says:

2 Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his anointed, saying, "Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us."

Read that story of Peter and John. I've never been arrested for preaching Jesus. Probably nobody in this room has. So sometimes we read these things and we go, "Well, I guess that doesn't really apply to me." But the nations are raging. The kings and the peoples are plotting. And the cosmic rebellion is at play, whether we like to think about it or not, and we're in the midst of it. It's inescapable.

So I haven't been arrested, but I've been mocked. I've been ridiculed for my faith in Jesus. I remember in university being picked on by some professors for daring to have faith in Jesus. There's one instance in my life that stands out. Joan and I had just been married for a little bit. I was on staff at a church as a youth pastor, and the church went into some really intense conflict. Shocking, I know — hard to imagine that kind of stuff happening, but it did. And it got really, really bad, to the point that me and the other pastoral staff, we all resigned.

So I was at a very, very low point — like, I'm just getting started in ministry and I'm having this terrible taste in my mouth from this experience, and it's just bad, and I got to make some money. So I did what I knew how to do. I'd worked in restaurants since I was a teenager, fourteen. So I went and found a job at a local restaurant. I remember going in and interviewing with the manager. I got weird vibes off the guy in the interview. He was arrogant and intense and boastful, but he hired me, and that was good enough for me.

But as I started working there, I just kept getting these weird vibes from him, and he would put me in weird situations, and it always seemed like he was watching me. It was just a strange experience. Every time I would close, he would offer me drinks, and every time there was just so many weird things going on. After about three months working at this restaurant, it's closing again one night, and instead of trying to offer me some drinks, he goes, "Hey, come sit down." He says, "Do you know why I hired you?" And I was like, "Well, because you needed a waiter and I can do that." And he says, "No." He said, "Let me tell you a story."

"The last restaurant I managed was in another state, and I hired a pastor. And I don't like Christians," he said. "And I made it my goal to tear him down. And it worked. He started drinking with us every night. He ended up hooking up with a waitress. He blew up his marriage. He blew up his ministry. He blew up his faith." He said, "When you walked in to interview and I saw on your resume that you were a pastor, I thought to myself, good, I can do that again." It was so amazing to me. He says, "But I don't think I can do that with you."

I've thought about that a lot. What is it in a man's heart that has so much hatred towards God that he wants to tear down another man's faith in God? That's the reality of much of the world that we inhabit. Just very rarely is it that explicit toward our faith.

See, so verse one again says:

1 Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?

The word "plot" here is a word that means to growl, to murmur, or to mutter. It's actually a really interesting word. It's the identical verb used in Psalm 1, where it says, "Blessed is the man who meditates on the law day and night." That word for "meditate" is the same word as "plot" here. It's this idea of muttering and murmuring — the same verb, opposite object. The blessed man mutters over the Torah; the nations mutter against the Lord. It's not accidental that it's the same word. Psalm 1 and Psalm 2 function as a unit. They're the only two psalms in the Psalter that don't have a title of their own, and they're both framed by the word "blessed." Psalm 1 starts with "blessed." Psalm 2 ends with "blessed."

In fact, many of our ancient traditions and documents attest to Psalm 1 and 2 being a singular unit. So the Psalms open — the first two Psalms, whether it's two or one — with the blessing of God's Word and God's King, and rebellion or obedience to both. So what do the nations plot for?

1 Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? 2 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed.

In a world of constant political upheaval and turmoil, again, it's not hypothetical for the ancient Near East or for us today. It's just a Tuesday or a Wednesday or a Thursday or any day — conflict and strife. But this is not merely political rebellion. They set themselves against the Lord and against His Anointed. The freedom they are searching for is freedom from God. That's what's happening in the ethos of the world and of the culture, and they're trying to free themselves.

3 "Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us."

The idea of bonds and cords is imagery from farming — of an oxen with his yoke that fits a purpose. It's the oxen trying to burst free from the farmer. "Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us." You guys, this is where the psalm really needs to hit home for us — not as truth for somebody else, or about somebody else, but truth for us. Because while it is true of them out there, whoever they may be, it is true of every one of us in here. Every single one of us has felt the rule of God as oppression in our life. That thing that you want to do that God says you shouldn't do. That thing that you don't want to do that God says you should be doing. The reality is, if we're honest, there are many times that the rule of God over our lives doesn't feel like a blessing but a burden — like God is holding out on us, like He's some cosmic killjoy.

I know I've felt that. I know I felt that as a young man. I know I feel that today. I don't like to admit that, but it's just reality. There are all sorts of things — like, I like to hold a grudge. I know I'm probably the only one in here, but I like to. And then I read the Scripture: forgive. How many times? Seven times. I don't want to. I really spent some time this week thinking about this, like, "God, show me — what are the areas of my heart, what are the areas of my life where I feel like You're not for me, You're against me, where Your law feels like a cord around me?" Forgiveness came to mind. And anger came. I like to be angry. I realized when I was young, it was outward and visible. Now today, I like to clothe it in self-righteousness — "Oh, I'm angry like Jesus when He was flipping the tables." But then there's that little voice of the Spirit in the Scripture that says:

20 "For the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God."

And I'm like, why not? See, we all struggle with this obligation that comes from the reality that God is our Creator and we are His creation. Just the brute fact and reality of that means that we have obligation and responsibility to Him. And there's something within the sin nature of each one of us that resents and rebels against this. Psalm 2 is not about just the kings or the powerful. Psalm 2 is about all of us who have been made as God's imagers, who have rejected and rebelled against God's rightful rule and gone our own way.

Now, God's response to this rebellion — God's response to the kings and the people and humanity, His creation, rebelling against Him — is fascinating. In Psalm 2, we have a threefold response. First, God laughs. Then, God has wrath. And then thirdly, He installs His King.

4 He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.

First, laughter. There's a beautiful play on words here happening in the Hebrew. Back in verse two, the kings of the earth "set themselves" — yatsab, it means they took a stand. So here you imagine the kings of the earth, the powers of the earth, gathering together and standing up to go against God. And Psalm 2 goes, "Yeah, God doesn't even stand up. He sits on His throne and He laughs." He's at rest. While the kings stand and strain for a throne they think is contested, God rests on the throne that only He can inhabit.

I think — and Dan started walking down this path in his welcome — I think some of us really need to take this in. There's a type of Christian today that experiences every cultural loss, every argument, every immorality masquerading as morality, every institution that betrays its origin, as a threat to God's will. That kind of Christian is not full of the fruit of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control.

Instead, that kind of Christian is brittle, anxious, combative, perpetually the martyr, tossed by the waves of the news cycle — whatever the urgent gripe of the day is. Listen, church, God is on His throne. Full stop. He's on His throne. Do you remember how they prayed in Acts 4? God, surely what You said in Psalm 2 is true. Yeah, there's Pilate, and there's this, and there's the Gentiles, and there's the people of Israel, and they're all against You — but they're still under Your sovereign control. God is on His throne. There's no rebellion, no kingdom, no power that ever has a chance of changing that. So the culturally anxious Christian is a Christian who has lost sight of God's absolute power and sovereignty.

And let me be clear here: God's laughter is not cruel. It's not laughing at people in pain or anything like that. God is laughing at the absurdity of clay saying to the potter — who not only formed it but made it — "I want to be in charge." How could you not laugh imagining that clay can organize a coup?

He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.

The second part of this verse is interesting. Derision — it means to deride, or to stammer. I think there's some irony at play here by the psalmist. The mutterers take counsel against God. They're muttering against God, and those mutterings go up to the heavens, and they're just animalistic growls. And so God's response is to stammer back to them. There's this beautiful irony: you give up this noise — that's all it is, is noise.

But verse 5 takes it up a notch.

Then he will speak to them in his wrath and terrify them in his fury.

So yes, God laughs, but it's not the laughter of indifference. The laughter answers the absurdity of the conspiracy; the wrath answers its seriousness. Just because God is secure in His rule and cannot be threatened doesn't mean that He doesn't care about the rebellion. In His wrath He will speak, and the result is terror. Do you know what that word means there — terror? God's wrath at the rebellion against His Christ.

Again, this is the reality: the sovereign God who spoke all that is into existence has now been moved to wrath. And I know — and Dan started walking down this road — there are so many today who are not comfortable with the idea of a God of wrath. And it's often presented as though a God of wrath and a God of love are mutually exclusive, when in fact the opposite is true. They're absolutely mutually dependent. God's wrath is a result of His love. If God was indifferent, if He didn't care, He wouldn't be wrathful. Just stop with the laughing — like laughing lightning bolts, right? Like this. But no, no, no, there's something else going on here. Because He loves His creation, He is angered when His creation foolishly rebels against Him.

But notice what He does and what He doesn't do in His wrath, because all the options are open to Him. He could punish, He could inflict pain, He could snap His fingers and everybody's gone. But He doesn't. What does He do? He speaks. And what He says is the point of the psalm.

As for me, I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill.

So the people rebel. God laughs at the absurdity of it. He's righteously angered at the people for their wickedness and foolishness. And His response: "As for me, I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill." The word "set" there is carrying a heavy load. It's a liturgical word — a coronation word. It means to install or to consecrate. When a king was installed in the ancient Near East, there was always a liturgy, a ceremony. The king would be clothed in kingly garments, often have a crown or headpiece put on his head. There would be a formal covenant document. There would be a proclamation and a presentation to the people. Often there would be an anointing. The setting of a king, the establishing of a king, is an event of magnitude that is symbolically represented in all these different ways. Hold on to that thought for a second — we'll come back to it.

But I want you to notice: He doesn't set His King in response to their rebellion. He says, "I have set my King." He's already set Him. The rebellion did not cause or delay the installation of the King by a single day, because God's throne is not at threat.

Now the psalm begins to turn from God speaking to the King, to now the King speaking from His perspective. Verse 7:

I will tell of the decree: The Lord said to me, "You are my Son; today I have begotten you.

On the day of coronation and installation, that "begotten" language is part of that whole process. We have records of this in Mesopotamia and Egypt and all sorts of other cultures.

This is this ancient Near Eastern idea that when a king is established and inaugurated and coronated, there's this begotten language that comes in. Let me be really clear because I don't want to jump back into a fourth century heresy this morning. Jesus did not become God's Son. He always was God's Son. What this text is saying is that there was a point in time where Jesus is coronated as the king. So the king says, I'll tell you that God did this. God is the one that made me and established me as the king.

Paul picks up this thought in Acts 13, once again quoting from Psalm 2. He says:

32 We bring to you the good news that what God promised to the fathers, 33 this he has fulfilled to us their children by raising Jesus, as also it is written in the second Psalm, "You are my Son, today I have begotten you."

The logic here is fascinating. Paul says the resurrection of Jesus is the demonstration and vindication of the Son's kingship. We see that the anointing and the mantle of kingship has been placed upon Jesus by the reality that He's done something that nobody else was able to do — come back from the dead, defeat death. This is what the king does.

The author of Hebrews says it this way, Hebrews 5:5:

5 So also Christ did not exalt himself to be made a high priest, but was appointed by him who said to him, "You are my Son, today I have begotten you."

So high priestly language, kingship language — Jesus as prophet, priest, and king — they all come together. But listen to what he says: "did not exalt himself." What strikes me about that is this "he did not exalt himself" language. In Philippians 2, he didn't grasp or seize the mystery and majesty of Christ's kingship. His priesthood is that he didn't exalt himself. He didn't grasp it. He didn't try to make it for himself. He received it, and it was given to Him by the Father. Do you see how it's the exact opposite of what Psalm 2 is doing? The kings, the peoples of the earth, are plotting and striving to take it for themselves when it's not to be taken. Jesus receives it because it was meant to be given.

Verse 8 continues, the king says:

8 Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession.

This is a Hebrew psalm in the Hebrew Scriptures. But Jesus is not simply the king of Israel. He is the King of kings and the Lord of lords. He is the king of everyone, everywhere. This is not just Israel's king — it's our king. He's the king of the whole earth. He's the one who is given the only name by which men might be rescued, redeemed, saved.

Last week, I said something I want to hit again: everything God does for the Son, He does for those who are in the Son. Everything God has done for Jesus in His faithful obedience — the resurrection, the glorification, the ascension — all that God has done for Jesus, God will do for those that are in Jesus. This is the hope and the promise of the gospel.

Paul says it this way, Galatians 3:

27 As many of you as were baptized into the King Christ, you have put on the King. 28 So there's now no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female — none of those distinctions matter when you're in the King. 29 And if you are the King's, then you are Abraham's offspring and heirs according to promise.

Over and over again, Paul will use this imagery: put on Christ, clothe yourself in Christ. That's an image I want to unpack for just a moment. So Psalm 2 describes this coronation of the king, and a part of that coronation of the king is the clothing in kingly garments. This made me think about Adam and Eve.

In Genesis 1, they're created and given a dominion mandate — rule the earth, subdue it. They're brought into Eden, the sacred space, the temple of God, to work and to serve with God as His imagers, as kings and priests. But Adam was never coronated as king. This struck me this week. When we get to Genesis 2, the end of Genesis 2 — one of my favorite verses — they were both naked and had no shame. Sometimes we read that from our cultural perspective and we go one of two ways: "Oh, that's gross," or "That's really cool." But for the ancient Near Eastern reader, Adam's being presented as God's icon, God's imager, God's king, but he's not clothed as a king. So they would read that and go, "Well, when's he going to be clothed?"

And this is where the story goes wrong, because Adam does get clothed, but he's clothed in the garments of skin after he falls. He's never established and instituted in that kingship role. He fell. And this is why Christ came to do what Adam didn't. And Jesus was clothed. He was clothed in His resurrection. As I already mentioned, He was clothed in the righteousness of His faithful obedience.

And when we come into Christ, we are clothed in Him and in His kingship and power. Back to Psalm 2 — this is again God speaking to the king, and the king recounting it. He says,

9 You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.

That doesn't sound much like the warm and fuzzy Jesus of our culture, does it? You shall break them. You shall dash them in pieces. Well, first of all, what is He breaking? He's breaking their rebellious counterfeit rule. He's going to shatter the little mini kingdoms that have been developed as a result of rejecting the rightful rule of God.

He'll break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter. There's an interesting ancient Near Eastern practice — we don't have records of Israel doing it, but Egypt and some of the other surrounding nations do. It's interesting, the "dash" language; it's kind of part of a magical incantation sometimes. They would take these clay vessels and write the names of their enemy kings on them, and then they would crush them on the ground and shatter them as this symbolic sign of their dominance. I think the psalmist is picking up on this cultural reality and going, you know, the day is going to come when Jesus is going to take a clay vessel with the name of every power, every king, and everyone that has rejected His rule, and it will be shattered.

This is not destruction of the individual. It's demotion. It's the tearing down of the walls that we have built. Interestingly enough, when the New Testament quotes this verse in the book of Revelation, three times, it uses an alternative vocalization. In Hebrew, the consonants are written and then the vowels are just little dots, and there are different ways that the same consonants can be pronounced. And when the New Testament quotes Psalm 2 about the shattering with the rod of iron, it uses the alternative vocalization — not that of "shatter," but of "shepherd."

When Jesus shows up in the book of Revelation, He doesn't have a shattering rod in His hand. He has a shepherd's rod in His hand. And the hand holding the rod is the hand of the slaughtered Lamb, pierced by the nails that held Him to the cross. You see, the One who comes to shatter and to shepherd is the One who is not unacquainted with grief. The One who knows suffering. He knows what suffering is. He's the One who bore our sins upon the cross.

Now, we read this and it's not in contradiction to the Jesus who says, "Come to Me, whoever wants to come." It's not in contradiction to the Jesus who says, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." It's just the reality that one day — one day — Jesus is going to bring the rebellion to an end. That's where the psalm goes in its conclusion: a choice. It's not the choice we want. It's not the choice of will you submit to the King. It's a choice of how will you submit to the King. It says this:

10 Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth. 11 Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.

In its closing, the psalm directly addresses the rebels. It calls them to make a wiser choice. And I love what it calls them to do: serve the Lord with fear. Serve the Lord. That word in the Hebrew, abad, it's a really important word. The psalmist is calling the rebels to return to their rightful place and role — not as enemies of God, but as imagers; not as competitors with God, but as co-laborers with God; not as an alternative kingdom, but to take their place firmly in the kingdom that they were made for.

It's the word used in the creation of Adam in Genesis.

15 The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it.

That's the word — the word here for "work it" is the word for "serve." This is the word that was on the lips of Moses over and over and over again as he stood before Pharaoh. So, Exodus 8:1, for example:

1 The Lord said to Moses, "Go in to Pharaoh and say to him, 'Thus says the Lord: Let my people go, that they may serve me.'"

See, we were made by God for a purpose. You were made by God on purpose for a purpose. You were made to work, to serve, to worship. This is not mindless submission. It's so much more than duty.

Serve the Lord with fear and rejoice with trembling. When I think about the reality of who I am, who I have been, what I have done, how I have been like the kings and the peoples in this psalm — when I think about the reality and the weight of my sin, of my brokenness, how I've not only hurt myself but hurt others — when I think about the reality of what I deserve, and then Christ gives me grace, it drops me to my knees that He would know me, that He would love me, that He would seek me out, that He would save me, that He would rescue me.

See, but there's more.

When I think that God would not only do that, but then would call me to once again take my place as His imager and serve Him and serve with Him — forget about it. I go from my knees to my face, like this is what it means to serve with fear and to rejoice with trembling. I can't believe how good God is to me. And I've met you, most of you, and you're not any better. The fact that God loves you, the fact that He sent a King to do what you didn't do, to do for you what you couldn't do, to rescue you and restore you and redeem you, and then not just say, "Game's up." No, to say, "Now let's go. You got a role. You got a place. You've got a meaning. You've got a reason. Come and join Me in My work of life and beauty and order. Take your place as My imager. Take your place as My son, as My daughter."

See, church, hear me again. This is not limited to kings and rulers and the powerful people. I've unpacked this before, but in reality, when we reject God's rule and go our own way, we are in essence creating our own little kingdom. This is the problem at creation. There's one kingdom where everybody does God's will. In the cosmic conflict, in the fallen rebellion, it's the introduction of all these counterfeit kingdoms. Some are bigger than others. Some of them, it's just my own little personal, private kingdom. But they've all got to come down and they've all got to surrender. And they all will surrender to the kingship of Jesus.

So He says:

12a Kiss the Son, lest He be angry, and you perish in the way, for His wrath is quickly kindled.

But first, kiss the Son. This is an invitation. And again, this is formal liturgical allegiance. The King is coronated. He's clothed. He's crowned. He's announced. He's produced and proclaimed. And the people come to the King, and culturally for us it might be "kiss the ring" — to kiss the Son is an acknowledgment of surrender and submission. It's an acknowledgment of "I am with You. I am in You. You are my King."

So the psalm says, be wise. Make a better choice. Don't wait to be forced. Come willingly and kiss the King, lest He be angry and you perish in the way, for His wrath is quickly kindled. Now, there's a way to read this that's absolutely devastating. And it turns Jesus into this quick-tempered, harsh — like, "I've got to impress Him or He's going to get really mad." That's not what the text is saying. The word here for "quickly" — it's a word that means "certainly." Here's the logic: it's not that Jesus has a short temper and could burst at any time. It's communicating that wrath is not a possibility — it's an eventuality. And life is short. We've learned that, haven't we? Far shorter than we'd like it to be. Sometimes life is short, and tomorrow isn't promised. And so, be wise and return to your rightful King while you still have time, before it's too late.

And then it ends with this:

12b Blessed are all who take refuge in him.

That should resonate, because we've heard that a lot in the summer Psalms. In fact, last week we heard it twice in Psalm 34, verse 8 — probably the most well-known verse in there:

8 Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!

And then Psalm 34 concludes in verse 22:

22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants; none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

So let me say it again: what God does to Christ, what God does for Christ, God does to those who are in Christ. In a couple of weeks, we're going to be watching the kings and rulers of ancient Israel in 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings. I chose this psalm for that very reason. As we walk through that together, I want your eyes to be open and looking to see how the kings of Israel walked versus how the King of Kings walked. But church, let me say it again — this is not a psalm about or for someone else. This is a psalm about and for me and you. It's a call to all rebels, all imagers, all who are called to serve and worship the Lord. It's for all who have felt burdened by the rule of God.

Let me say this as bluntly and clearly as I can: the idea that freedom and joy and meaning and purpose and happiness will be found in freedom from God — in going our own way — is one of the greatest lies of the world today. Personally, I don't know of anything that's been tried more and proven false than that reality. "Oh, you'll be happier. You'll be better off. You'll be more blessed if you go your own way." As Proverbs sums it up pretty well:

There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.

Freedom is not freedom from God. It's freedom in God. It's freedom with God. Joy, freedom, blessing is found by those who choose to run to God, who kiss the Son, who taste and see that the Lord is good. Those who take refuge in Him will never be condemned. Blessed is the man.

Blessed is the woman who takes refuge in the Lord. So, you may not like to think of yourself as a rebel, someone trying to usurp God's authority, God's kingdom, and God's throne, but more often than we'd like to admit, that's exactly who and what we are.

And Psalm 2 calls me and it calls you: lay down the rebellion. Return to the Son. Serve, worship, work with and for the One who made you for Himself as His imager. Amen.