Psalm 65:(1-8), 9-13

Do you remember the 1992 Disney animated version of Aladdin? It is—and this is just an objective fact, so don’t bother arguing—the best cartoon Disney ever produced. The genie, voiced by the irreplaceable Robin Williams in the prime of his career, yields “phenomenal cosmic powers” which he puts memorably to use in several scenes and montages throughout the movie.

Each time he needs to grant a wish, or the question of the extent of his capabilities comes up, the genie treats us to a joyous outpouring of power. The whole world responds to the genie’s call-to-arms: pieces of furniture sprout legs and dance; fruit spills forth from bowls and trays; animals defy their very shape and nature for the sake of joining the genie’s song. Even the genie’s own essential form seems utterly free of the constraints of reality: he can dance amid his own two hands and harmonize meaningfully with himself.

Behold: the God of Psalm 65.

This is no somber hymn of repentance, no bulky meditation on God’s absence. If you ever again read Psalm 65 without a big band trumpeting waa-waa-waaaaa (bum bum) in your mind’s ears as Robin Williams insists “You ain’t never had a friend like me,” then I will not have done my job.

In Psalm 65, the earth positively purrs with the presence of God! The verses tumble one after another in rapid staccato, as if the psalmist can hardly finish a thought without eagerly tripping over the next (“You think that’s good—wait till you hear what else about this God!”). In the first four verses alone—before we even get to the personification of the world itself—God answers prayers, receives all people, forgives overwhelming sin, and draws all chosen to his house where he fills them with good things.

This God, though, this God is so much bigger than what transpires between the divine and the human, says the psalmist. This God plucks mountains forth from the earth and soothes with equal ease the temper of the sea and the roaring of the nations. This God holds nothing back: drenching the land with life and rain and abundant bounty. This God makes garments out of gladness which he drapes over hills and meadows.

Every step of the way—and this is important, terribly important, wonderfully important—there is not one jot of resistance. Like the inanimate objects in the genie’s melody, the valleys and the very sheep that dot their basins rush forward with a giggle and a song at the invitation of their Creator. There is no competitor to God’s providence, no will which would even think to refrain from the Great Refrain of Zion. All the earth shakes loose and stretches forth to meet the coming reign of God.

Psalm 65 is a reminder (Walter Brueggemann would say “reorientation”) of the glory of God that is straining forth from every man, woman, child, critter, hillside, pond, or garden on this green earth. Although the night can be dark and seem endless, this psalm reminds us of the reality that hides just below the surface, ready to sing.