574_The deep longing of a pilgrim (Psalm 120) Psalm 120 In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me. 2 Deliver me, O Lord, from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue. 3 What shall be given to you, and what more shall be done to you, you deceitful tongue? 4 A warrior’s sharp arrows, with glowing coals of the broom tree! 5 Woe to me, that I sojourn in Meshech, that I dwell among the tents of Kedar! 6 Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace. 7 I am for peace, but when I speak, they are for war! A humanitarian worker once told the story of a 9-year-old Syrian refugee who arrived at a border crossing after walking for days through dangerous terrain. The boy was exhausted, blistered, and carrying only a small backpack. When he finally stepped onto safe ground, he asked, “Is this where peace starts?” He didn’t know the language, the culture, or what lay ahead. All he knew was that he was walking away from war and toward something he longed for but had never fully experienced—peace. That is the spirit of Psalm 120—the ache that pulls a pilgrim forward. It is the first of the fifteen “Songs of Ascents,” the sacred playlist of those who journeyed to Jerusalem for the great feasts of Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles. Three times a year, Israelites from every direction—villages, deserts, coasts, and far-flung regions—would climb the winding paths toward the holy city. As the elevation rose, so did their hearts. They sang these psalms not simply as tradition, but as a declaration of hope, desire, and longing for the presence of God. And the journey begins with a cry. “In my distress I called to the Lord, and He answered me.” The pilgrim does not start with celebration; he starts with desperation. Before he ascends, he acknowledges the valley he has come from. Before his feet climb the mountain, his heart rises in prayer. This is a testimony to the God who hears—“O You who hear prayer, to You shall all flesh come” (Psalm 65:2). The journey toward God always begins with the recognition that we need Him. The psalmist’s distress is specific: “Deliver me, O Lord, from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue.” There is no wound quite like the wound caused by deceit. Words, when twisted, can pierce the soul, distort reputation, and break trust. Sometimes the deepest valleys in our lives are carved not by circumstances, but by conversations—whispered accusations, hidden agendas, or subtle distortions that are meant to injure. Scripture is painfully realistic about this kind of suffering. In Psalm 52, David tells of Doeg the Edomite, a man whose half-truths brought about the massacre of innocent priests. David describes Doeg’s tongue as a “sharp razor”—cutting, deliberate, and destructive. What made the tragedy even heavier was that Doeg was himself in the house of God when he betrayed others. Proximity to holy things does not make a holy heart. David, however, describes himself as a “green olive tree in the house of God”—rooted, fruitful, and steady.
