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Man is nothing more than dust, and the only way for a good Israelite to have an impact is to do God's work. Message received.
No matter how many men fall in battle next to the writer, he is protected by God's angels. Can we get that option on our auto insurance, please?
The author declares that stupid people have no chance of understanding God's power and might. This is starting to seem like a pretty exclusive club.
God got a new robe from Target, and man, does that thing look awesome. Oh, and also—God looks enough like a human to don a robe. How about that?
We like to call this the "Job psalm" because the message is essentially the same as the Book of Job: God's power is so beyond our comprehension that we can't hope to understand it. This is power at its height.
Here the writer discusses the lost generation of the Bible that was forced to wander around in the desert for forty years because they were unfaithful (remember Exodus?). We've seen this before in Psalms: it's like a political commentator today comparing Vietnam to Afghanistan. The actual correctness of the analogy doesn't matter; it's the practice of referencing stuff from the past so your point resonates more with an audience.
The writer awaits God's judgments amidst the natural wonders inspired by God. Yeah, God and nature are tight.
The mountain of God approaches, and wow, is this thing scary. Watch out for it on the New Jersey Turnpike.
Human music and natural music (you know, waves and thunder) will be a winning combo in glorifying God.
And we're back to Exodus to remind us of the awesome things that God did for his peeps. Special bonus: shout-outs to Moses, Samuel, and Aaron—figures that the Israelites would have known well.
Make some noise—God is coming.
The writer is looking for roommates. Faithless need not apply.
The only thing that lasts is God. (And Twinkies.) No expiration date, no lapse of memory. Which is all that seems to comfort our long-suffering author, who really can't wait to stop eating ashes as his food (understandably).
Now the writer gets deep—surprise, surprise—and reflects on how short his time on earth is.
God's natural wonders abound and make life pleasant for the author. If you're a faithful Israelite, you've got to give credit where credit is due.
Recap time. Here we get Exodus in a nutshell—again. God lived up to his end of the covenantal bargain, and delivered his people from distress. Woot.
And…another rehashing of old myths. This time, it focuses on the people's idolatry (traitors) and shady dealings to explain why God stopped trying to live up to his end of the covenantal bargain.
Turns out one of God's biggest powers is transforming the natural landscape from desert into lush land. FernGully, anyone?
This one is for the ancients. The author divides up the land of his enemies—which the audience would have known well—for God and his loyal followers.
Forgive and forget sure wasn't around back in the day. Here, the writer wishes nothing but ill upon his enemies, and hopes that their children will be chased out of the ruins of their cities. So there's that.
The writer assures himself and his audience that God is not only present, but at their side constantly. Just in case they had any doubts after 109 of these things.
The author praises God for his works, which include providing food and protection. Basic needs first, right?
One more reward for the faithful: lots of kids. Child mortality rates were high back then, so this is kind of a big deal.
The writer looks up and—wait for it—sees God.
Here's another Exodus rehash, albeit a shorter one. The upshot: God's so crazy great that he makes the mountains jump like rams. Nice.