In The Wilderness-- Psalm 63

A Davidic Psalm. When he was in the wilderness of Judah.

O God, You are my God
I earnestly seek you.
My very being thirst for you
Like a parched and exhausted land with no water
So I have looked for You in the sanctuary
To see your power and your glory
For your faithful love is better than life
My lips will praise You.
So I bless you all my life
I will lift up my hands in Your name.
My soul is satisfied with fatness
My mouth offers praises with joyful lips
When I remember you on my bed
I meditate on you in the watches of the night,
For You have been my help
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to You,
Your right hand supports me
Those seeking to destroy my life
May they go to the depths of the earth
May they be split apart by the sword
May they be a prey for jackals.
But the king will find joy in God
All who swears by Him will glory
For the mouths of those who speak lies is stopped


He was running, running, running. His breath burst within his chest, painfully. Across the desert he wandered, cracks in the ground, jagged rocks rising from the parched land like bones. No matter where he looked, there was disaster. The soldiers would capture him for sure.
One of his finest companions, Uriah, was beside him. “Sir,” he panted, running beside his master, “Let us hide among the crooked rocks. Perhaps we could hide and gain some rest.”
“No,” David gasped, each stride desperately pointed in a particular direction.
“But, sir! Surely they will capture us!”
“No, we will get there first. Come!” David turned to enter the rocks. Uriah looked, mystified at David’s response. Did he listen to him or not? David runs around a few tall finger-like stones then stops, breathing heavily for a full five minutes until his lungs quieted. David was whispering, repeating like a mantra, “This is not the shelter I seek, this is not the shelter I seek.”
Behind him, Uriah could hear the soldiers walking close behind him. “The traitor must have run into these rocks, Sire. Only he would be so stupid to stop in the only hiding place in all this area. We will find him quickly. And destroy him forever.”
David gasped. The king! The king is with them. How David longed to grasp hold of his hand and beg for forgiveness, for whatever he had done. David knew that if he could just talk to the king, explain to him what the reality is, all this unpleasantness would be behind him.
“Do you think he is really in here, son?” Saul’s words were slurred as if he were drunk or drugged. David was infuriated. What have they done to my lord?
“Yes, sire. He will be dead in moments and your fears can be put to rest.” Fears! Thought David. This liar had drugged his king, convinced him that he was Jonathan, and then spread lied about David! Anger enflamed David’s mind. He would pay—this little man would squirm and moan in pain.
But the contingent of the king entered the rocks, turning dangerously close to David and his two men. Just as the last man entered the shelter, David ran out, straight across the open desert. Uriah shrugged and looked at the other man, and ran, following David.
The sun beat down on them, pushing them across the desert, causing precious moisture to escape from their bodies, dripping, wasted, upon the parched ground. In the distance, however, Uriah was making out a community. It was bare, only a few tents resting in the middle of empty wilderness, but it was clearly where David was heading.
They continued to run without rest until they reached the first tent. David ran right past it, to other tents in the community. Uriah paused and looked behind him. The king’s soldiers would be close behind them, but they haven’t finished looking through the rocks yet. Uriah breathed easier. There would be a little time. They could escape, if only they would leave this camp quickly.
Uriah turned toward the tents and walked through a few of them. On the other side of the camp, he spied David’s other men. “Adino!” Uriah called, and the two embraced, kissing each other on the cheeks. “How did you come here?”
“David sent us before you left. Didn’t you know?”
Uriah shrugged. “For once, he kept his own counsel.’ Uriah looked around, “Where is he? I know he came over here.”
Adino’s face scrunched up in disgust, “He didn’t greet us—not even to wave. He passed by as if we were strangers—or worse, enemies!—and ran into a tent there.”
“Which one?”
“That one over there.”
Uriah followed Adino’s finger, and walked to the tent. The flap was left open—stupid, allowing all the cool air of the morning escape to mix with the afternoon heat—so Uriah ducked under the flap and spied his master.
At the far end of the tent was the holy of holies, the seat of the Most High. There at the top were the seraphim—the angels that upheld the power and glory of God himself. Uriah struck, stunned. He had never seen such a sight before. For all of David’s clear devotion to Yahweh, Uriah was a foreigner, a Hittite, and his gods were different. But still, such an idol as this, with such clear power! No wonder David was so devoted!
And there was the man himself, prostrate before the image of the seat of God, murmuring. No, wait. He wasn’t just mumbling a prayer. He was singing! Uriah could make out some of the words, “My soul is satisfied… your right hand supports me…” Uriah mocked his devotion to himself. David sometimes could be so obtuse—not even seeing what situation he was in!
“My lord, the soldiers will soon leave the rocks and they will know where we…”
“SHUT UP! Just shut up! Don’t you think I know all that? This is where I am supposed to be.”
“Surely you don’t want us all to be captured…”
“We won’t be! And even if we are, what I am doing here is more important than life itself.”
“More important than your men?” Uriah scoffed. “Is your song to your god worth your faithlessness to your men who dedicated themselves to you?”
“I was up all night, Uriah,” David’s eyes were wild, almost insane. Uriah stayed silent, fearing David’s reaction. “And a song came to me, as if in a dream. ‘O God, you are my God,’ I sang in the midst of my enemies. And I knew that I had to reach the Sanctuary. I had to be before my God. Deliverance is not to be found in hiding, but in devotion. Don’t trust in me, Uriah. I am just a man. Trust in God.”


Raining, raining, raining. He awoke, cold and in the storm, with a light shining in his eyes and a shout in his ears. “Excuse me sir! Will you please come out of the tent!” Cops, he thought dejectedly. Why can’t they leave me alone? All I’m trying to do is sleep.
He got up to obey the command when he stopped suddenly. He could hear sniffing along the front of the tent. A K-9 unit. Suddenly fear gripped his heart. It was only a month ago when his friend, camped only a short distance from this very place, was attacked by a police dog. His leg and arm was all chewed up and he spent a week in the hospital. The doctors say he will walk again. Eventually. But the scars on his face and the fear in his heart would never heal. Never.
One of the cops was yelling, “C’mon—get out of there!”
“I’m coming!” David yelled back sharply. He arose out of his bag, put on his hat, and escaped under the tent in the back.
Damn, it was cold! He had no shoes and no coat and the icy wind blew on him, causing pellets of freezing rain to pelt his bare face. He dipped his head down to allow his hat to block the worst of the weather and he turned aside behind a tree. Shit! He stepped right into his latrine. And it was cold, too! What else could go wrong?
“He’s not in there,” he heard a shout a few yards back. “He must have gotten out through the back! C’mon!” Footsteps ran after him, and he escaped for his life.
His only deliverance was that he knew the small patch of woods better than the cops. For the last month he had been finding and following a three inch wide path through the woods to his camp in the dark. Even in the pitch black of 1am, he could follow it out. The cops didn’t know where he was going.
As David ran past tree after tree, swerving through the branches, he had time to consider. What have I done wrong? Perhaps they looking for a criminal, like they were last month. But probably they were just kicking him out. Maybe a neighbor saw him enter the woods and it took them all night to find his camp. Damn. That place is gone. As well as my tent. And my blankets. And food.
Don’t I have the right to sleep? It wasn’t my choice to be homeless. I don’t have much choice about it now. Don’t the cops know how difficult life is here? David has been outside for three years, and each winter is more difficult than the last. He had to stay in the urban area in order to take advantage of the services that were available there, but even with the few charities available, none of them had enough resources to get him off the street. To get him a truck to sleep in. To recover the tools someone had stolen from him so he could get back to his trade.
But David knew that the cops didn’t care about that. They saw him as a criminal, a thief of air and water and uncared-for property because he did not have the money or employment to pay for four walls and a roof.
Only five minutes later, however, he was out of woods, and the shelter of the trees fell behind him. He had gained a head start in front of the cops, but now he was out in the open and they could set their dog on him anytime. They might even shoot at him, like they did that girl who panicked at a pull-over and drove away. She’s dead now. What was he to do?
The church. It’s right around the corner. If there is just a slight possibility the priest forgot to lock the door…
He ran down the block to the doors of the chapel. Behind him, a full block away, the cops were huffing, trying to shout, “Stop!” but getting caught up by their short breath. Please, be open, please… He tried the tall door and, miracle enough, it was open! David entered and tried to shut the door behind him, but it was slowed by one of those things that closed doors carefully. Damn, come on! Finally, the door was shut and he locked it.
Walking through the foyer, he walked into the sanctuary. The lights were all off. He must be here by himself. Perhaps he could crash here for the night, get up early and then figure out where he could get a new tent. And blankets. And a coat. And shoes. He sighed. It would be a long day, full of refusals and dirty looks, as if he wanted to be ill-prepared at the beginning of winter.
Then he looked at the front of the sanctuary. There was Jesus, arms open, heart exposed. David snorted in disgust. He was raised to not worship idols, he mused. Nevertheless, there was something peaceful here. He felt at ease.
The cops reached the door and were pounding at it. “Let us in, or we’ll break it down!” David turned toward the door in fear. It wasn’t solid—they could break it, if they wanted. He spun around, scanning the room. Where to hide, where to go…
Suddenly, strangely, he remembered his dream. David, the warrior, his namesake, running to the sanctuary of God, only to pray from deliverance from his enemies. He wouldn’t escape, even though he could. He even endangered his men, because he was certain that God would deliver him. If only he would pray.
As the cops pounded on the door, David went to the front of the sanctuary, bowed his knees, turned his face away from the painted Jesus, and began to recite the words he had memorized as a child in Sunday school, “O God, thou art my God. Early will I seek Thee. My soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and weary land where no water is…”
There was no hope, there was no escape. There is only God in this place. So only He could provide peace.

The presence of God gives us hope, even in the midst of calamity.