Psalms 78:32-72

And—can you believe it?—they kept right on sinning; all those wonders and they still wouldn’t believe! So their lives wasted away to nothing— nothing to show for their lives but a ghost town. When he cut them down, they came running for help; they turned and pled for mercy. They gave witness that God was their rock, that High God was their redeemer, But they didn’t mean a word of it; they lied through their teeth the whole time. They could not have cared less about him, wanted nothing to do with his Covenant. And God? Compassionate! Forgave the sin! Didn’t destroy! Over and over he reined in his anger, restrained his considerable wrath. He knew what they were made of; he knew there wasn’t much to them, How often in the desert they had spurned him, tried his patience in those wilderness years. Time and again they pushed him to the limit, provoked Israel’s Holy God. How quickly they forgot what he’d done, forgot their day of rescue from the enemy, When he did miracles in Egypt, wonders on the plain of Zoan. He turned the River and its streams to blood— not a drop of water fit to drink. He sent flies, which ate them alive, and frogs, which drove them crazy. He turned their harvest over to caterpillars, everything they had worked for to the locusts. He flattened their grapevines with hail; a killing frost ruined their orchards. He pounded their cattle with hail, let thunderbolts loose on their herds. His anger flared, a wild firestorm of havoc, An advance guard of disease-carrying angels to clear the ground, preparing the way before him. He didn’t spare those people, he let the plague rage through their lives. He killed all the Egyptian firstborns, lusty infants, offspring of Ham’s virility. Then he led his people out like sheep, took his flock safely through the wilderness. He took good care of them; they had nothing to fear. The Sea took care of their enemies for good. He brought them into his holy land, this mountain he claimed for his own. He scattered everyone who got in their way; he staked out an inheritance for them— the tribes of Israel all had their own places. But they kept on giving him a hard time, rebelled against God, the High God, refused to do anything he told them. They were worse, if that’s possible, than their parents: traitors—crooked as a corkscrew. Their pagan orgies provoked God’s anger, their obscene idolatries broke his heart. When God heard their carryings-on, he was furious; he posted a huge No over Israel. He walked off and left Shiloh empty, abandoned the shrine where he had met with Israel. He let his pride and joy go to the dogs, turned his back on the pride of his life. He turned them loose on fields of battle; angry, he let them fend for themselves. Their young men went to war and never came back; their young women waited in vain. Their priests were massacred, and their widows never shed a tear. Suddenly the Lord was up on his feet like someone roused from deep sleep, shouting like a drunken warrior. He hit his enemies hard, sent them running, yelping, not daring to look back. He disqualified Joseph as leader, told Ephraim he didn’t have what it takes, And chose the Tribe of Judah instead, Mount Zion, which he loves so much. He built his sanctuary there, resplendent, solid and lasting as the earth itself. Then he chose David, his servant, handpicked him from his work in the sheep pens. One day he was caring for the ewes and their lambs, the next day God had him shepherding Jacob, his people Israel, his prize possession. His good heart made him a good shepherd; he guided the people wisely and well.