The Meaning of Magnification (Psalm 34:1-8, 19-22)

October 27, 2024

Reformation Sunday

John Gribas

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When I reflect on these verses from Psalm 34, certain words stand out: praise, boast, exalt, delivered, radiant, saved, refuge, rescues, keeps, redeems.

With words like these, it would be easy to conclude that this psalm must reflect the author’s great confidence in God. Right?

Not necessarily.

If we take a closer look, we might notice some other, very different words that also stand out: humble, fears, ashamed, poor, cried, trouble, afflictions, broken, death, condemned.

What is going on here? Well, a little background might be helpful.

In most Bible translations, Psalm 34 comes with a brief initial statement that offers a kind of framing for what follows. Technically, these brief statements are called “superscriptions.”

In the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, the superscription for Psalm 34 is as follows…

“Of David, when he feigned madness before Abimelek, so that he drove him out, and he went away.”

Though the superscription references “Abimelek,” it is broadly agreed that this psalm reflects David’s response to a difficult situation when he found himself the source of wrath for two leaders.

Saul, the King of Israel, and Achish, the Philistine King of Gath.

We learn in 1 Samuel 21 that David had escaped the wrath of King Saul by running to Gath. That escape, however, only plopped him into equally hot water with Achish, King of an enemy clan. So David did what any great hero of the faith would do in a similar circumstance. According to 1 Samuel 21, David “changed his behavior” before the King and his servants.

The passage reads, “He pretended to be mad when in their presence. He scratched marks on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle run down his beard. Achish said to his servants, ‘Look, you see the man is mad; why then have you brought him to me? Do I lack madmen, that you have brought this fellow to play the madman in my presence? Shall this fellow come into my house?’”

This allowed David to escape in safety.

So, yes, Psalm 34 is an expression of confidence in God. It communicates David’s thankfulness to God for getting him out of the dire circumstances he was in. Maybe less directly, it also acknowledges a degree of contriteness on David’s part for allowing his fear of these two kings to overshadow his trust in God’s power and goodness.

Ultimately, in Psalm 34, David seems to be recognizing that his God was too small. Or, at least, in that moment of serious threat, David’s understanding of God was too small.

Perhaps this could be a message to all of us. Sometimes, our God is too small. Therefore, we need to heed the words of verse 3.

We need to “magnify” the Lord.

I’ll say it again: We need to “MAGNIFY” the Lord!

I’ll say it again, again: WE NEED TO “MAGNIFY” THE LORD!!!

You know, all this talk of “magnifying” takes me back to my childhood. To a time when something as simple as a magnifying glass seemed truly amazing…almost magical.

I can still recall myself, sitting on the curb at the end of the sidewalk that extended from my front door to the street. At that time, not even paved. It was gravel. But that was great because it meant an endless supply of little rocks to examine. With my magnifying glass!

Through that round, convex lens, those pebbles looked like pretty impressive boulders. And if I managed to find a broken one, I could transform the miniscule, sparkly mica fragments into huge motherload veins of diamonds or silver or gold.

And if a car drove by and kicked up a cloud of dust, I was happy to move back from the street and into my yard, where the magic magnifying glass opened up other enticing worlds, tucked in the folds of grass and garden.

Ants that became armies. Leaves that became land bridges. Grasshoppers that became…well…giant grasshoppers! Everything was BIGGER!!

But, wait a minute. Is this what is meant by “magnifying” the Lord?

I mean, I did just suggest that, when we feel that God is too small, we need to “magnify” the Lord. However, we should be careful here. There on the curb of the street and in my yard, I could wield the power of that glass and make small things look big. But in Psalm 34, David was not making a small thing look big. God and his presence and his protection and his power…these are not “small things.” Not in the least. They are big. Very big. Infinitely big!!

This whole magnifying glass idea…it has some problems.

I wouldn’t want to suggest to you a framework for thinking about this passage of scripture that in any way sends the message: “Yes, sometimes God IS too small. But with the impact of our magnification, he can become bigger. Big enough, at least.”

I’m not okay with that, and I am sure you aren’t, either.

And, when I think about it, there is another problem with the magnifying glass framework. And here is where I need to be honest and hope that you are the forgiving group of people I believe you to be.

Okay. Confession time. You ready?

When I was a kid…I don’t really want to admit it, but…

On occasion…

I used a magnifying glass…to burn some ants.

I feel horrible saying that. I really want to think of myself as a kind person. Considerate of all living things. Not taking pleasure in anyone or anything else’s pain or suffering.

But…I did burn some ants. Magnifying glasses can do that.

Once again, this magnifying glass idea fails. It is a framework of little to no value.

Or is it?

This is a bit of a digression, but I think it is worth considering. I can’t help but wonder. Sometimes, do people…good people…people who call and consider themselves Christians. People of God. Is it possible that sometimes, they end up using their particular magnifying glasses…use them in specific ways where they capture and focus the light of God—or at least what they consider to be the light of God…

They harness this light in a way that focuses…intensely focuses this force that they consider to be the light of God…

This standard. This doctrinal position. This moral requirement. This judgement. This sense of biblical truth. This…light. This hot, powerful, dangerous light.

And they burn things. People. Relationships. Maybe their own compassion and humanity.

And that’s not okay. And that’s not God or his light. And that’s no magnification at all. It’s just…

Damage.

End of the digression, and back to lenses.

There are different kinds of convex lenses that make things bigger for us. Magnifying lenses are one. Telescopes are another. Maybe the idea of a telescope would be a better framework for considering what is going on in Psalm 34 where David is “magnifying” the Lord.

Those heavenly bodies in the night sky—the ones we crane out necks back to see and that are the source of our wonder and amazement. The moon. Venus. The North Star. Alpha Centauri. Millions of them. Most small orbs or tiny specs of light.

But they aren’t tiny at all, are they? They are really, really big! And the telescope “magnifies” them and makes them appear closer and far, far bigger.

Telescopes are awesome but, once again, we have a problem. Likening God to a giant planet or star…that works pretty well. But suggesting that this very big God is really, really far away—far away enough to seem small. That is a problem.

As I already said, I wouldn’t want to offer a framework suggesting that God is too small but can become bigger through our magnification. I also wouldn’t want to offer a framework to suggest that God is really big but insanely far away, and that our “magnification” simply gives us the sense that he is closer and a bit more visible.

Maybe it’s time to just dump the whole attempt to play on the idea of magnification in terms of lenses.

Before we throw in the towel on lenses, though, I’d like to ask your indulgence. Actually, I ought to rephrase that. I haven’t mentioned it yet, but this is Reformation Sunday. And Reformation Sunday is probably the most inappropriate day of the year to be asking for “indulgence.”

So, instead, I will ask for your patience as I circle back to the magnifying glass idea once more to see if we can make something of it.

Think of a magnifying glass. What comes to mind? Maybe it’s making things in your yard look bigger. Maybe it’s burning ants. But I wouldn’t be surprised if what comes to mind is…Sherlock Holmes. The great British detective.

Sherlock Holmes, with his swooping pipe and weird hat. And his magnifying glass!

And what did Holmes use that magnifying glass for? Holmes was a detective. He relied on keen and accurate observation. He needed that glass to see—to see really well. Keenly. Accurately. He wanted to make sure not to miss something that might otherwise be overlooked.

And isn’t this precisely what David was doing in Psalm 34?

In light of the threat and his fear, David just wasn’t able to focus in on God’s providence. God’s concern. God’s presence. God’s power. And so he found himself experiencing some of those words I mentioned earlier: humble, fears, ashamed, poor, cried, trouble, afflictions, broken, death, condemned.

And David took matters into his own hands and played the madman. I suppose he felt he had to if God seemed to him to be small and incredibly far, far away.

But in this Psalm, David remembered. I think we could say he pulled out his “magnifying” glass. Not to make a small God appear larger. Not to make a distant God appear nearer. But, like Sherlock Holmes, to “see” God. Keenly. Accurately.

With David, let’s take a moment and get out our magnifying glasses to see God keenly and accurately, and reflect on the words of Psalm 34.

When we are humbled, let us magnify the Lord—and let our souls make their boast in him.

When we are consumed with fear, let us magnify the Lord—and know that, when we seek, he answers and delivers.

When we are ashamed, let us magnify the Lord—and our faces will be radiant.

When our poor souls cry, let us magnify the Lord—and realize that we will be heard and saved from every trouble.

Magnify the Lord. See him. Keenly. Accurately. And taste and see that the LORD is good.

One final thing to ponder.

We like a big and strong God. Don’t we? There is something about “bigness.” The night sky. The Empire State Building. The Rocky Mountains.

Bigness can be a bit frightening. But it also draws us, like gravity. Bigness has a kind of power, especially when it is close. Ever stand right on the edge of the ocean, or at the rim of the Grand Canyon? And if the bigness is benevolent—if it is good and on our side—then it offers a kind of comfort.

I understand how recognizing God’s bigness and strength and closeness can be a way of “magnifying” God. But if magnifying really is about “seeing” God keenly and accurately, then I think we need to be open to whatever is revealed in that seeing. And I can’t help but wonder what might be revealed if we look, not through our own “magnifying” glass, but through God’s.

God’s magnifying glass. What might that be? Well, let me wrap up by suggesting something.

I’m a Christmas fan. I know Christmas is still a ways off, but Advent is really just around the corner. And when I think of what might be God’s magnifying glass—what might be the thing through which we can look to see God’s own keen and accurate presentation of himself—I can’t help but think of the nativity. Specifically, the opening to that stable—whether it was a simple wooden structure or a cave or something else. I want to suggest that that opening is a kind of lens, revealing the true nature of God. Keenly. Accurately.

And through that lens we see…a baby. Small. Humble. Vulnerable. Human.

But still…God.

Is this, though, the big and strong and close God that comforted David and prompted Psalm 34? That’s a tough one. Maybe a little bit of a paradox.

The babe in the manger certainly seems close. Extremely close. As close as a child in the arms of a mother. But big and strong? That is more problematic. This “magnification through the lens of the manger” reveals not bigness and strength but the smallness and absolute vulnerability of a newborn.

What are we to do with that?

Well, maybe God reveals himself in bigness and strength when we need it, and in smallness, humility, and vulnerability when we need that, instead.

Or maybe the incarnation and the babe in the manger reveal our own misunderstanding of bigness and our inability to recognize the power of humility and vulnerability.

Like I said, a bit of a paradox. One that deserves pondering. Perhaps seeing, really seeing—keenly, accurately—takes some serious pondering.

On this Reformation Sunday, may we be open to “re-forming” our own understanding of what it means to magnify the Lord. And may we be open to what is revealed in that magnification.

Amen.