"For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation." (a paraphrase of Psalm 62:1–2, 5–6).

This refrain appears in verses 1–2 and again in verses 5–6. David is the king. He has wealth, power, and influence. He has many resources in which he might place his confidence for safety and success.

Nevertheless, he declares that his trust is in God alone. God is not a last resort. He is the only resort. In another psalm, David makes this abundantly clear: "Some trust in chariots and some in horses," but we trust in the name of the Lord (Psalm 20:7).

Chariots and horses were tools. Walls, fortifications, and soldiers were tools. Knowledge and strategy were tools. David did not trust in these things. He trusted in the Lord. God could use tools, but He did not require them to accomplish His will.

Friends, in what are we trusting? Are we trusting in tools? They will fail us. If we hope in our own strength, it will fail us. Wealth is uncertain. Allies are fickle.

Yet the Lord is the rock of our salvation. He made us out of nothing and redeemed us from our sins. He does not lie. His purposes never fail. He is God!

Friends, trust in God's promises and hope in His faithfulness, for "He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all," how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? (a paraphrase of Romans 8:32).

With such a precious promise, nothing should keep us down for long. I am moved to wake every morning with the high aim of worshiping and serving Him!

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 62 was discussed at #2207, where the "silence" of waiting was noted as settled rest rather than passivity. The psalm's structure is worth seeing: the refrain appears twice, with a small but significant change. In verse 2 David says, "I shall not be greatly shaken"; in verse 6, after further reflection, he says simply, "I shall not be shaken." Meditation on God's sufficiency strengthened his confidence as the psalm progressed.

The psalm also weighs the alternatives honestly: those of low estate are "but a breath," those of high estate "a delusion"; in the balances they go up, "they are together lighter than a breath" (62:9). Neither the powerless nor the powerful can be ultimate security. And its closing lines hold together what the comment emphasizes: "Power belongs to God, and to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love" (62:11–12). The God in whom David trusted was both able and kind — which is exactly the argument Paul makes from the cross in Romans 8:32.

"But I will sing of your strength; I will sing aloud of your steadfast love" in the morning, for God has been his fortress and refuge in the day of distress (Psalm 59:16).

The setting of this psalm puts David a hair's breadth from death. Saul's men are watching David's house in order to kill him. Surprisingly, Michal, his wife and Saul's daughter, saves his life (1 Samuel 19:11–17). Though David escapes, what dread and anguish must have filled his heart as he became a fugitive and an outlaw, given no chance to defend his innocence. This David, who had single-handedly reversed Israel's fortunes by defeating the Philistine champion, is now on the run. This David, whom the prophet Samuel had secretly anointed to be the next king, is now fleeing like a common criminal. Through it all he remains loyal to the king who is wrongfully trying to kill him. Even when he has repeated chances to kill Saul, he refuses to harm "the Lord's anointed" (1 Samuel 24:6, 10; 26:9). He would not take justice into his own hands but waited on God to vindicate him.

David is called "a man after his own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14; Acts 13:22) because he was more concerned with God's honor than his own. At each opportunity for vengeance on Saul, his men urged him to act, even claiming the Lord's approval for the opportunity (1 Samuel 24:4; 26:8). But David rejected the misguided encouragement of his own men and chose to wait on the Lord.

Friends, who is whispering in your ear today? Are you listening to the flattery of those who simply tell you what you want to hear? They may even cite Scripture to encourage you in what your spirit knows to be wrong. It takes no courage or discernment to listen to friendly voices. Real courage lies in rebuking those very voices when they encourage bitterness, pride, and self-righteousness. Real discernment belongs to the one who patiently, humbly, and prayerfully seeks God's will in His Word.

When you look at David's response to Saul, do you realize that we have an even greater calling with respect to our brothers and sisters in Christ? In fact, when speaking of lawsuits among believers, Paul goes so far as to say, "Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?" rather than making such a shameful display before unbelievers (1 Corinthians 6:1–11). Don't we realize that our greatest witness to a lost world is not the justice we exact from our brothers but the Christlike, sacrificial love we show one another (John 13:34–35)?

How then, you ask, should we respond to professing believers who oppose us? I hope I have conveyed at least the proper attitude we ought to have toward one another. I encourage further meditation on the following texts. I do not want to throw verses at you, as some do defensively and without regard to context, distorting God's truth and doing more harm than good. But I want these texts to be a starting point for your own investigation. I have studied each of them with some depth and would be glad to discuss them with any of you.

• Galatians 6:1–5 (read Galatians 5:13–26 as a prelude): if anyone is caught in any transgression, those who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness, watching themselves lest they too be tempted; bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ; let each one test his own work rather than comparing himself with others.
• Romans 12:9–21: love must be genuine; abhor what is evil and hold fast to what is good. Toward fellow believers especially: love one another with brotherly affection, outdo one another in showing honor, rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer, contribute to the needs of the saints, show hospitality, live in harmony, do not be haughty or wise in your own sight. Toward everyone: repay no one evil for evil; so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all; never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God; if your enemy is hungry, feed him. And the closing rule: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
• Matthew 18:15–22 (read the whole chapter, especially the closing parable): if your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault privately; if he does not listen, take one or two others; then tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as a Gentile and a tax collector. Then Peter asks how often he must forgive his brother — as many as seven times? — and Jesus answers, "I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times."
• 2 Timothy 2:22–26: flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart; have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies, which breed quarrels; the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting opponents with gentleness, in the hope that God may grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The heading of Psalm 59 ties it to the night Saul sent men "to watch his house in order to kill him" (1 Samuel 19:11), and the psalm's imagery fits: enemies return each evening "howling like dogs and prowling about the city" (59:6, 14). The contrast at the end is deliberate. They prowl at night; David sings "in the morning" (59:16). Michal's help that night — letting David down through a window and placing an image in his bed to deceive the messengers — is one of the few kind acts recorded of her.

The comment's list of passages is a well-chosen guide for Christians in conflict with one another. Each holds together honesty about sin and a restorative aim: Galatians 6:1 insists on gentleness and self-examination; Matthew 18 moves from private conversation to wider involvement only step by step, and closes with the parable of the unforgiving servant (18:23–35), which reminds us how much we ourselves have been forgiven; and 2 Timothy 2 describes the attitude of "the Lord's servant" as kind, patient, and hopeful for the other person's repentance. Taken together, they describe the Christlike alternative to both avoidance and retaliation.

I understand witchcraft to include anything we try to force into being. Rebellion, trickery, and fortune-telling are acts that force an outcome — acts that, through violation, try to override what God has done, said, or prepared (compare 1 Samuel 15:23, "rebellion is as the sin of divination").

Even if my concept of witchcraft is not fully accepted, think of a time when you feel pressure to cheat, coerce, or otherwise compel by "hard" means. In a moment like that, imagine a small voice saying: "For God alone my soul waits in silence"; He alone is my rock and my salvation (cf. Psalm 62:1–2).

Or consider a time when one might join a political cause to force some change or bring a leader down. In a moment like that, imagine a small voice saying: wait in silence; He is your rock and salvation; trust in Him at all times, and pour out your heart before Him (cf. Psalm 62:5–8).

Psalm 62 seems to describe people who try to force change as low and vain, a lie — people who promise a glorious kingdom but are not the ones who can bring it to earth. Coercion, trickery, rebellion, and other forms of forcing are effectively acts of oppression — attempts to force people into a glorious kingdom. The psalm says that those of low estate are but a breath and those of high estate are a delusion; placed in the scales, they go up, lighter than a breath together. "Put no trust in extortion; set no vain hopes on robbery"; if riches increase, do not set your heart on them (cf. Psalm 62:9–10).

Do not trust in this kind of oppression. Power belongs to God. He will bring the kingdom — and has. The gates of hell will not prevail against it. He will do this by the soft ways that words and ideas work, for the war is spiritual. A pastor once explained it to me as something that cannot be seen, though its effects can.

God's usual mode of working is quiet like this; it is the exception when He parts the waters or sends fire from heaven. "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts" (Zechariah 4:6).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 62 is a psalm of quiet trust, framed by the repeated refrain, "For God alone my soul waits in silence" (62:1, 5). The "silence" is not passivity but settled rest — a refusal to be driven by fear or to grasp at outcomes. The psalm ends with a double truth that holds the commenter's point together: "power belongs to God, and to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love" (62:11–12). God's power is not coercive force detached from love; it is exercised in steadfast love.

The commenter's connection between manipulation and "divination" is thought-provoking and has scriptural roots: Samuel told Saul that "rebellion is as the sin of divination" (1 Samuel 15:23), linking the attempt to seize control with forbidden spiritual practices. The contrast with God's way appears throughout Scripture — Zechariah 4:6, Paul's weapons that "are not of the flesh" (2 Corinthians 10:4), and Jesus' refusal to bring His kingdom by force (John 18:36). Christians hold differing views on how believers should participate in political life; the commenter's caution is against trusting in coercion or political power to accomplish what only God's Spirit can do.

"Kill them not, lest my people forget"; make them totter by Your power and bring them down, O Lord, our shield (a paraphrase of Psalm 59:11).

When was the last time you prayed for difficulty — prayed that your enemies would linger? Our enemies tend to linger. They seem to disappear, then reappear a little wittier and a little more skilled, never vanquished. This is what the Lord had prepared for you. Had you prayed for this, what would it have taken for you to pray that prayer?

We know that iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17). We know that the Lord left the Canaanites in the land for a time to keep the wild animals at bay until the Israelites were numerous enough (cf. Exodus 23:29).

Struggle is from the Lord. We should be willing to walk into it if it is there. The Lord is with us; if the struggle is not from Him, it will be vanquished. If it is from Him, you will be built up — perhaps not in the first encounter. Perhaps you will have to discover the idol among you (cf. Joshua 7). This moment could be for your good: a time of wandering for testing and purification.

It is all from the Lord. Because He is with you, there is no cause for concern. As Romans 8:28 says, for those who love God, all things work together for good.

In Psalm 83:9–11, the psalmist prays that God would do to Israel's enemies "as you did to Midian," to Sisera and Jabin, and make their nobles like Oreb and Zeeb and their princes like Zebah and Zalmunna.

These refer to battles in the period after Joshua — the leader after Moses who led the first major conquests in the Promised Land — through the time of Gideon. They were not back to back. Here is a brief overview of the early leaders and periods:

• Moses: 40 years in the wilderness
• Joshua: about 25 years (by tradition)
• Othniel: 8 years of oppression, then 40 years of peace
• Ehud: 18 years of oppression, then 80 years of peace
• Jabin: 20 years of oppression
• Deborah and Barak: 40 years of peace
• Gideon: 40 years of peace

Sisera, commander of Jabin's army, was killed by Jael, as the prophetess Deborah had foretold. This victory led to forty years of peace (the Canaanites).

Oreb and Zeeb were defeated by Gideon through a stratagem: they blew trumpets and broke jars to give the impression that a great army suddenly surrounded the enemy camp, and the enemy fell into confusion and terror. An army of 300 overcame a force of around 120,000 (cf. Judges 7:19–22; 8:10) (the Midianites).

Zebah and Zalmunna were also defeated by Gideon, shortly after the victory over Oreb and Zeeb (the Midianites).

In each case, God is the only logical answer. How else could it be foretold that not a king but a woman would have the glory of the victory — a woman who lured the enemy commander into a vulnerable position? How else can you explain the defeat of 120,000 by 300, under conditions Gideon's God Himself set? It is a repeated history of God stepping in and conquering.

God has always guided His people through faith — a trust based on His character. In Christ we have this way of life, prepared over some two thousand years and brought to its full purpose, as Paul describes: to bring to light the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God, so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places, according to the eternal purpose He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and confident access through faith (a paraphrase of Ephesians 3:9–12).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 59:11 is an unusual request, and the comment draws out something important in it. David asks God not to destroy his enemies immediately, "lest my people forget." A swift, total victory can be quickly forgotten; a prolonged demonstration of God's power keeps the lesson alive. Judges 3:1–4 gives a similar reason for the nations left in the land after Joshua: to test Israel by them, so that later generations might know war — "to teach war to those who had not known it before." The comment's application — that ongoing struggle can be part of God's training rather than a sign of His absence — fits both passages.

Psalm 83's list of past victories is a prayer that uses history as an argument: You did it before; do it again. The Gideon account supplies the key to why these victories were remembered. God deliberately reduced Gideon's army from 32,000 to 300, "lest Israel boast over me, saying, 'My own hand has saved me'" (Judges 7:2). The point of the story was never Gideon's cleverness but God's power — which is the comment's conclusion as well.

O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1 NLT)

David's longing echoes the same longing expressed by the sons of Korah in Psalm 42.

As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I go and stand before him? (Psalm 42:1, 2 NLT)

Friends, these expressions of intense longing do not need much explanation, but they should give us pause for reflection on the intensity of our own longing for God. How earnestly do we seek Him? It is one thing to hunger, but it is quite another thing to thirst. Hunger can wear us down over time, but thirst will make us desperate in just hours and destroy us after just a few days. Do we have this kind of desperate longing for God's Word?

David describes his present life as a "parched and weary land where there is no water." He is the king of a nation in its Golden Age, but he chooses to see his life as a desert, a valley of death. How do we see our own lives? Are they full and satisfying? Or do we see life for what it really is, a mere shadow, a temporary matrix, where God tests His people to excite devotion to Him regardless of their circumstances.

John Piper famously wrote, "God is most glorified when we are most satisfied with Him." Along this same line the mystic Madame Guyon wrote,

God gives us gifts, graces, and natural talents, not for our own use, but that we may render them to Him. He takes pleasure in giving and in taking them away, or in so disposing of us, that we cannot enjoy them; but their grand use is to be offered in a continual sacrifice to Him; and by this He is most glorified.

I think this is right. God's highest concern is not our salvation but His glory, not our benefit but His fame. What may seem like pride and arrogance for anyone else and certainly for us, it is only fitting for God. Furthermore, it is only right that if God desires what is best for us in light of His glory, He would want us to find our satisfaction in what is best. And what is best is not our pursuits, nor is it God's benefits. It is God Himself. What is greater than this? That is why in the Westminster Shorter Catechism of 1647, the first lesson in orthodox faith is this:

Question: What is the chief end of man?

Answer: It is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

David understood this and expressed it in poetic song. He longed for God as a body thirsts for water in a parched and weary land where there is no water. Although his practice of such devotion may have come short of ideal, he, nevertheless, proclaimed it as his deep desire. This is also why we sing our expressions of devotion to God from week to week. If you're like me, I am often hesitant to sing because I fall so short of such bold declarations of devotion. I want to add disclaimers like "I'm trying to..." or "Help me to...," but I think God, who sees my heart, knows my shortcomings and my imperfect desiring. Therefore, I will still sing boldly my declaration of absolute devotion during Sunday worship, but it will not be as an achieved fact but as the desperate longing of a soul that acknowledges that any and every iota of devotion from me is achieved only by the grace of God. Soli Deo gloria!

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 63's superscription places David in the wilderness of Judah. The dry-land image therefore need not be merely a chosen metaphor within an otherwise comfortable golden age. The reference to a king in verse 11 is compatible with a royal setting, but the precise occasion is not specified. The text and notes of Psalm 63 preserve both the wilderness setting and the psalm's movement from longing to confidence. Physical deprivation gives language to a deeper desire for God's presence.

The poem does not stop at thirst. The speaker remembers seeing God's power and glory in the sanctuary, declares divine steadfast love better than life, and anticipates satisfaction like a rich meal. At night he remembers God and rejoices under the shelter of his wings. Desire is therefore sustained by remembered relationship, praise, and confidence in God's hold on him. It is not simply a demand that the believer manufacture increasingly intense feelings of lack.

The catechism cited in the original is the Westminster Shorter Catechism, completed in 1647, rather than one of Christianity's earliest catechisms. Its opening answer joins glorifying God and enjoying him; the Orthodox Presbyterian Church's account of the Westminster standards identifies the documents and date. That conjunction is important. God's glory and the good of his people are not necessarily opposing goals. Scripture portrays his saving love as revealing his character, and his gifts can be received with thanksgiving rather than treated as inherently suspect competitors with himself.

The quotation attributed to Madame Guyon expresses a spirituality of surrender. It may help expose possessiveness, but “not for our own use” requires care when applied broadly. God gives abilities to be exercised in service and gifts to be enjoyed gratefully; refusing their proper use is not automatically a greater sacrifice. Surrender means allowing the Giver to determine their purpose, including both generous service and rightful enjoyment, rather than insisting that deprivation is always the highest evidence of devotion.

The final reflection about singing is especially perceptive. A worship song can express confession, petition, aspiration, and commitment as well as a description of present achievement. Singing a desire for undivided love need not pretend that the desire is already perfectly realized. Honest worship brings the discrepancy to God. We can praise his worth, ask him to deepen our love, and receive the congregation's song as help for a weak voice. The psalm's own assurance is that the hand of the God we seek also holds us.

Truly my soul finds rest in God — my salvation comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I will never be shaken (a paraphrase of Psalm 62:1–2). God is the author of our salvation — He saw each of us in advance, before the foundation of the world, and planned for our salvation and deliverance from death. David could say with confidence that he'd never be shaken, because God was his rock and his salvation. We should be thankful that our salvation doesn't rest on our own choosing, since we know, and God knows, that we're like a helpless candle before a gusting wind. Our minds chase the desires of our corrupted nature every day. Thank you, Lord, for your salvation!

AI-Expanded Reflection

This comment's gratitude that salvation doesn't depend on human choice reflects a monergist view of salvation — one shared across this project by several other commenters — and, as elsewhere, it's worth noting that faithful Christians in more synergistic traditions would affirm the same underlying gratitude (that no one is saved by their own strength, and that God's initiative in salvation is essential and prior) while still holding that a genuine human response of faith, itself enabled by grace, remains part of how that salvation is received. Both perspectives land on the same image this comment reaches for: a "helpless candle before a gusting wind" is a vivid and, across Christian traditions, widely shared picture of just how little human strength alone could ever accomplish in the matter of eternal rescue.

Praise awaits God in Zion, where our vows will be fulfilled to Him, who answers prayer and to whom all people will come; when we were overwhelmed by our sins, He forgave our transgressions, and blessed are those He chooses and brings near to dwell in His courts, filled with the good things of His house (a paraphrase of Psalm 65:1–4). Here David describes God's choice to bring people near to Him — an election not based on any righteousness of our own, since it specifically happens "while we were overwhelmed" by sin. This blessing is purely an act of grace. It's what Paul describes in Ephesians: that God chose us in Christ before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless, predestining us for adoption as His children according to His own good pleasure, to the praise of His glorious grace freely given to us in Christ, in whom we have redemption through His blood and the riches of His grace lavished on us (a paraphrase of Ephesians 1:4–8). Praise God that while we were still sinners, foolish, weak, and lowly, He called those He would save according to His own pleasure and will — choosing what the world considers foolish to shame the wise, and what the world considers weak to shame the strong, so that no one can boast before Him, since it's because of Him that we're in Christ Jesus at all, our righteousness, holiness, and redemption, so that whoever boasts should boast only in the Lord (a paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 1:26–31).

AI-Expanded Reflection

As with other reflections on divine election in this project, it's worth noting that this comment's language — describing God's choice to bring people near as "election... not based on any righteousness of our own" — represents one historic and carefully argued position within Christian theology, closely associated with Reformed thought, but not the only view faithful Christians hold. Traditions that emphasize a more synergistic account of salvation would affirm just as strongly that God's grace is entirely unearned and undeserved, while framing the "choosing" language in Ephesians 1 somewhat differently — as God's choice of a people or a plan established in Christ, rather than the choosing of specific individuals apart from any response of faith. What both traditions clearly share, and what this comment's own argument ultimately rests on, is the conviction that salvation is never something any person could have earned or deserved on their own merits — grace, by definition, remains a gift rather than a wage in either framework.

Psalms 62 and 63 are beautiful psalms of confidence in the LORD. In Psalm 62, David's repeated use of the word "only," in reference to his confidence in the LORD, underscores his exclusive trust in God over men, riches, or anything else — his soul waits in silence for God only, since God alone is his rock and salvation (a paraphrase of Psalm 62:1–2, repeated again in verses 5–6). Men and riches are unreliable and vain, but God is repeatedly called his "rock" and his "salvation" throughout the psalm.

Then in Psalm 63:1, David declares that God is his God, whom he'll seek earnestly. God isn't just the God of the universe to him — He's David's own God personally. Because of this relationship, David seeks Him with an earnestness that touches even his soul, thirsting for Him, satisfied in Him, clinging to Him (a paraphrase of Psalm 63:1, 5, 8).

Why such earnest yearning? David answers in verse 3: because God's lovingkindness is better than life itself. The word translated "lovingkindness" is the Hebrew hesed, variously rendered "love," "mercy," "steadfast love," or "lovingkindness" — a term difficult to capture fully in any single English word. Hesed is always used in the context of an existing relationship, particularly a covenant relationship (God and Abraham under the Abrahamic Covenant in Genesis 12, or God and David under the Davidic Covenant in 2 Samuel 7) — it isn't indiscriminate kindness shown to just anyone. It speaks of God's steadfastness and reliability in keeping His covenant promises, often set directly against the frailty and unreliability of Israel. Even when Israel is faithless, God remains faithful still. This steady, persistent refusal of God to wash His hands of wayward Israel is an essential part of what hesed means.

What's implied here, but worth emphasizing, is that this loyal love toward Israel is entirely undeserved — what the New Testament writers would later call "grace." If Israel had received the treatment her continual rebellion actually earned, total destruction would have been the only outcome, since God's demand for righteousness never diminishes. And yet the prophets recognized an even greater yearning within God for His chosen people, alongside that demand. You can't read the Old Testament without noticing an unresolved tension between God's justice and mercy. Which comes first? One medieval Jewish commentator suggested that God gives precedence to the rule of mercy, while still joining it to the rule of justice. What's clear is this: however deep and persistent God's lovingkindness is, we must remember His passion for righteousness first. That passion is so strong He couldn't be more insistent about it — yet His persistent love for His people is somehow more insistent still. Israel's waywardness across the centuries was so persistent that if even a remnant was to be preserved, God had to show mercy above almost everything else. Even so, hesed never implies sentimental kindness or mercy apart from repentance — God's demand for righteousness stays at maximum intensity throughout. His lovingkindness simply means His mercy runs even deeper than that demand. The word stands for the wonder of His unfailing love for His chosen people, and reconciling His righteousness with His lovingkindness ultimately passes beyond full human comprehension.

This tension is only resolved in Christ, whose life and death embody and fulfill both God's righteousness and His love. In Psalm 85:10–11, the sons of Korah pray for God's unfailing love (hesed) and salvation, and are answered that love and faithfulness meet together, righteousness and peace kissing one another (a paraphrase). This was finally accomplished in Christ — where God's white-hot wrath, His holy righteousness, and His matchless mercy, His gracious love, meet and kiss each other. Praise Him again and again, for we are children of God's hesed!

AI-Expanded Reflection

Building on this rich meditation on hesed: the word's covenant-bound character is exactly why the cross carries the theological weight it does in this reflection. Hesed was never generic kindness — it was always loyalty owed specifically within a relationship, which is precisely why God's covenant loyalty to unfaithful Israel couldn't simply be waived without addressing the righteousness it kept bumping up against. Paul describes the cross in almost identical terms to what this comment reaches for at the end — God presenting Christ as a sacrifice of atonement specifically to demonstrate His righteousness, so that He could be both just, and the one who justifies those who have faith (a paraphrase of Romans 3:25–26). The tension this comment says "passes beyond human comprehension" isn't dissolved at the cross so much as fully displayed there — justice and mercy don't compromise with each other at Calvary, they're both fully, simultaneously satisfied in the very same act.