"O Lord, what is man that you regard him"; man is like a breath, his days like a passing shadow (Psalm 144:3–4).

David reflects on his mortality, even on the extreme brevity of his days. How insignificant is the life of any person. Yet God dignifies him by thinking of him, listening to his prayers, and delivering him from all kinds of harm.

Exactly two years ago, my daughter prayed to receive Jesus as her Lord and Savior. She was just four years old. In my small existence, I find nothing so stirring as the thought of that day. Until then I was often troubled by the thought, "What if my child does not trust in Jesus?" I praise God for her salvation! I know that it was God alone who saved her, but He gave me the soul-stirring privilege of sharing the gospel with my daughter and leading her to faith in Christ.

Friends, I reflect on my nearly forty-five years of life and all God has given me the privilege to experience. It all seems like the blink of an eye. Who will remember it, when I barely remember it myself? It all seems futile as I consider my mortality — except for this thought: I am His. And my child is His too. Then suddenly the limits and vanity of mortal life seem to burst open as God's eternal promises come into view. Death is swallowed up by life, mortality by immortality, and what is passing away by what endures forever. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 144:3 echoes Psalm 8:4, but with a different emphasis. In Psalm 8, the question "what is man that you are mindful of him?" leads to wonder at human dignity — "crowned with glory and honor." In Psalm 144, the same question leads to reflection on human frailty — "like a breath... like a passing shadow." Both are true, and Scripture holds them together: we are small and fleeting, and yet God thinks of us. Hebrews 2:6–9 takes up Psalm 8 and shows that its vision of glory is fulfilled in Jesus, who was made "for a little while lower than the angels" so that He might "taste death for everyone."

The comment's joy over a child's faith is one Scripture shares: "I have no greater joy" than to hear that my children walk in the truth (3 John 4). And its turn from the brevity of life to the hope of resurrection follows Paul's great climax: when the mortal puts on immortality, "Death is swallowed up in victory" (1 Corinthians 15:54). A life that seems like a passing shadow is, in Christ, the beginning of a life that has no end.

"One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts" (Psalm 145:4).

The other day my four-year-old daughter told me she wanted to go to heaven. She asked me how she could go to heaven. I told her she had to believe in Jesus — that He died for her sins and rose again. She asked me why He had to die. I explained that God is holy and good and that sin had to be punished, and that death, even eternal death, was the punishment for sin. She interrupted to say, "So we should have died because we do bad things?" I told her yes, but that Jesus died in our place, and if we believe this, we will go to heaven — she, Mom, and Dad.

Then she asked, "What about Grandma?" (I had told her on another day that Grandma did not believe in Jesus as her Savior.) I told her Grandma would not go to heaven unless she believed in Jesus. She said she wanted Grandma to go to heaven too. I encouraged her to pray for Grandma. She asked, "Why doesn't she believe in Jesus?" I told her, "I don't know, but we can pray that God will open her heart to believe."

Then I asked her, "Do you want to pray and tell God that you believe in Jesus?" She said, "Yes." And so she prayed after me as I led her in a prayer to trust in Jesus as her personal Savior and Lord.

When I look into her eyes and hear her ask, "Why doesn't Grandma believe?" I think this may be what Jesus meant when He said that unless we turn and become like children, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven (cf. Matthew 18:3).

I pray that she understood enough, and that her faith was real enough, that she was truly saved in that moment, but I look forward to continuing this journey of faith with her. We just finished Exodus 30, which makes 80 days of unbroken quiet times together. I remember that early in Genesis it was simply me asking her questions and supplying the answers, but now she is asking me questions as well.

Friends, this is my baby step in passing on the heritage of faith from my generation to the next. I am taking her on a biblical journey from creation, the fall, the flood, and Babel to God's covenant with the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. She understands how God led Abraham from Ur, around the Fertile Crescent, into the land of Canaan, and how Israel finally came to Egypt through Joseph.

She also understands why and how Pharaoh tried to suppress the growing population of Israel in Egypt, and how God used Moses to deliver them with mighty wonders. She can trace Israel's journey out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, to Mount Sinai, and onward toward Canaan, the Promised Land.

She knows that the Ten Commandments were given on Mount Sinai to teach people how to obey God. She knows the tabernacle was designed as a place for the people to worship God, and that Levi was the tribe chosen to lead this worship. She also knows many details in between that help put these larger movements in their historical context.

I have also been able to show her through these biblical events the nature of human sinfulness, as well as God's absolute faithfulness to His covenant promises. She readily sees Jesus in creation, in the burning bush, and in the tabernacle of God. When I ask her why we don't need to worship God at the tabernacle, she answers, "Because God is inside us." And so I tell her that wherever we are, God is there too, and we can worship Him anywhere.

She has also started memorizing the Gospel of John with me. Over the past couple of weeks she has practiced with me every day, and she has memorized the first nine verses of the first chapter. Through this she is learning that Jesus is the Word and the Light, that Jesus is God, that John bore witness to Him, and that Jesus is the source of all life.

I urge every parent to encourage your child to memorize Scripture — not simply verses extracted from their context, but passages in context, so that they clearly understand what was meant.

Friends, these are the most precious times for me with my daughter. I believe I am teaching her eternal truths, which by God's grace will bear spiritual fruit in her and help her become a faithful woman of God.

If you, like me, are taking baby steps to obey God, please share with me, so that as iron sharpens iron we may sharpen one another. In this way we will not fail in our generation to declare God's truth to the next.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 145 is the last psalm attributed to David and the final acrostic in the Psalter, and it is the only psalm whose superscription calls it "A Song of Praise" (tehillah) — the word from which the Hebrew name of the whole book, Tehillim, comes. Verse 4, which the comment quotes, sits inside a larger pattern: one generation declares God's works to the next (v. 4), individuals meditate on His wonders (v. 5), and all His works and saints give thanks (v. 10), "to make known to the children of man your mighty deeds" (v. 12). Praise moves outward from the family to the whole world.

The comment's account echoes Paul's description of Timothy, who had known the sacred writings "from childhood," which were able to make him wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus (2 Timothy 3:15). And Jesus' rebuke of the disciples who tried to keep children away — "Let the children come to me... for to such belongs the kingdom of God" (Mark 10:14) — suggests that a child's simple faith is not a lesser form of faith but the model for everyone's.

A four-year-old's question about her grandmother is also a small picture of the heart of intercession. Her instinct — "I want Grandma to go to heaven too" — is close to Paul's own longing for his kinsmen (Romans 9:1–3; 10:1).

Let burning coals fall down on their heads. Let them be thrown into the fire or into watery pits from which they can’t escape. (Psalm 140:10 NLT)

Friends, as you read the Bible through year after year, you will likely begin to make connections between passages and make fascinating discoveries. Consider Psalm 140:10 above. The highlighted sentence may remind you of a more familiar passage in the New Testament:

Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord. On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head." (Romans 12:19, 20 NIV)

This passage in Romans has been interpreted in various ways, but the predominant understanding of it is that the phrase "heap burning coals on his head" is used metaphorically of shame and remorse rather than physical harm. It is almost an exact citation of Proverbs 25:21–22,

If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you. (Proverbs 25:21, 22 NIV)

The passage in Proverbs does not help our understanding because it merely restates what we find in Romans. However, when we compare the context of Psalms and Romans, we gain this insight. When David writes "Let burning coals fall down on their heads," he is not speaking metaphorically of remorse leading to repentance but rather of judgment by fire, for he also writes in parallel, "Let them be thrown into the fire..."

Furthermore, when Paul writes, "In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head," we must consider his immediately preceding citation regarding God's wrath, where he cites God saying, "It is mine to avenge; I will repay." What significance would this have if the intent of "heaping burning coals on his head" refers to remorse? It is not repentance that is in view but God's judgment. Paul's instruction is to clearly delineate our role vs. God's role. Our role is to love and bless, even our enemies; however, it is God's prerogative to avenge and punish them in due time.

Many commentators disagree about the meaning of Romans 12:19–20, and most seem to favor a metaphorical interpretation of coals as "coals of shame;" however, none cite Psalm 140:10, where David clearly has a literal understanding of coals as "coals of fire' or "coals of judgment." A basic rule of thumb in Bible interpretation is to use the clearer passages to explain the more obscure ones.

When we do this here, we understand that Paul's instruction in Romans has this meaning. Even though you want to take revenge, be kind instead, leaving room for God to avenge you. You are not holding back your anger here to win them over by making them remorseful, but in the expectation that your enemies will get their just punishment by God. And while your acts of kindness will be rewarded by God, it will draw even heavier punishment on your enemies.

This is consistent with other passages of Scripture that teach against gloating over God's judgment on people:

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the Lord will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from them. (Proverbs 24:17, 18 NIV)

In the case of David, when Saul was out to kill him, David could have killed Saul a number of times and would have been justified in doing so, but he does not do it. David waited for God to judge Saul. He even mourned over Saul when God eventually took his life. In doing this, Saul received his just punishment, but David was greatly blessed.

In the Book of Revelation, the saints of God that were martyred for their faith cry out:

When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. They called out in a loud voice, "How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" (Revelation 6:9, 10 NIV)

They are not crying out for mercy upon their enemies, nor are they asking God to make these enemies remorseful and repentant, but they are calling God to avenge them.

In our preaching of love and kindness I think we have gone beyond the bounds of Scripture. The image of "burning coals" in Proverbs, Romans, and Psalms seems not to carry different senses but one and the same, namely, the expectation of the avenging judgment of God.

I share this also to encourage you in your daily reading of Scripture, for by doing so you will gain insights that exceed even professional Bible commentators, preachers and teachers. The chief source of meaning is context and comparing Scripture with Scripture, and this is available to everyone, professional and layman alike, if you are willing to give the time and effort. It is certainly worth it.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The comparison among Psalm 140, Proverbs 25, and Romans 12 raises a legitimate question about how a shared image functions across contexts. In Psalm 140, burning coals appear within a prayer for judgment on violent opponents. In Proverbs 25 and Romans 12, the image accompanies an instruction to feed an enemy. Recognizing the judicial association of fire helps explain one possible interpretation, but the presence of the same image does not require it to perform precisely the same function in each passage. Context includes the action commanded and the argument surrounding it, not only a parallel expression elsewhere.

Romans 12 is particularly explicit about the believer's conduct: bless persecutors, refuse repayment of evil, pursue peace, relinquish vengeance, and overcome evil with good. The quotation from Proverbs must serve that movement. Some interpreters understand the coals as painful shame that may lead to repentance; others see increased accountability when kindness is rejected, or leave the metaphor's exact mechanism unresolved. The text of Romans 12:20 clearly identifies Proverbs as the immediate source. Psalm 140 is a relevant comparison, but it does not erase the interpretive question.

The author's insistence on God's prerogative to judge is well grounded in verse 19. A crucial further distinction concerns our motive. Feeding someone in order to make the person's punishment worse would preserve a retaliatory purpose beneath an outward act of kindness. That sits uneasily with Paul's call for genuine love in 12:9 and his command to bless rather than curse in 12:14. We may entrust judgment to God while sincerely desiring an enemy's repentance and good. God's authority to judge does not require us to abandon hope that mercy will transform the relationship.

David's refusal to kill Saul illustrates relinquished vengeance, but the narrative does not present killing Saul as an unquestionably justified option. David repeatedly refuses to strike the Lord's anointed and waits for God to determine Saul's end (1 Samuel 24:6; 26:9–11). His later mourning shows that leaving judgment to God need not conceal satisfaction at another's death. Revelation's martyrs likewise appeal for justice to the holy and true Lord rather than undertaking retaliation themselves.

The practical instruction remains demanding whatever interpretation of the coals is adopted. Meet an actual need, refuse personal revenge, protect others from ongoing harm through legitimate means, and let God decide the final outcome. Scripture's imagery should deepen obedience to that instruction, not supply a spiritualized method for injuring someone while appearing generous.

Psalm 143 hit me hard today. David prays for justice, knowing that only God can carry out ultimate justice on earth, since He alone is righteous, all-knowing, and all-powerful. David doesn't ask God for some kind of power to bring justice down on his enemies himself — instead he confesses that he's nothing but a sinner, that God alone sustains him among the living, and that his very existence depends entirely on God. He was in such deep distress that he had nowhere left to turn, describing anguish so severe it felt almost unbearable (a paraphrase of Psalm 143:3–4, 7). Even though he'd been anointed king, his circumstances felt worse than a slave's — he felt like a prisoner facing no actual crime, with no one to vindicate him. His eyes stayed fixed only on God. He could easily have taken justice into his own hands, since he knew his suffering wasn't his own fault. Instead of feeling entitled to revenge, he prayed and waited patiently for morning to bring him word of God's unfailing love. Being surrounded by enemies didn't shake his determination to follow God's guidance and instruction (a reference to Psalm 143:8–10). Lord, let us learn David's undivided, unshakable trust in You!

AI-Expanded Reflection

The specific posture this comment highlights — David in genuine anguish, entitled by any human standard to seek vindication himself, yet choosing instead to wait for God — is one of the more demanding examples of patience in the Psalms, precisely because David's grievance was real and his power to act on it was real too. That combination is worth naming plainly: this isn't the patience of someone with no other options, but the patience of someone who had the power to act and chose restraint anyway, trusting that God's justice, however delayed, was more reliable than his own.

As you read these almost pitiable psalms of David, crying out to the LORD for deliverance, have you noticed that many, if not most, were likely written while he was on the run from King Saul? Remember that even though David had more than one opportunity to kill Saul, he chose not to, out of fear of God. That explains the language in these psalms, where David calls on God to deal with the wicked through His own might rather than by David's hand. God is "the strength of my salvation" (Psalm 140:7). David humbles himself before the LORD with repeated appeals: "deliver me" (140:1), "keep me... preserve me" (140:4), "hear the voice of my supplications" (140:6). He appeals to God's own name, justice, righteousness, and mercy toward the poor and afflicted (a reference to Psalm 140:12–13). David preserved Saul's life even though Saul sought to kill him; he avenged those who boasted of killing Saul, and mourned Saul's death. David did good to Saul despite Saul's hostility — not because David was simply a nice person (he wasn't afraid of shedding blood, even the blood of warriors and kings), but because David feared God, and Saul was God's anointed king. In the New Testament, we're commanded to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44). Why? Not because we want to seem "nice," and not because we're afraid of them — but because we fear God, and God commands us to love. Let's allow God to be our avenger, while we overcome evil with good (a reference to Romans 12:17–21). Let's focus our prayers not primarily on our own interests or the defense of our own rights, but on God's name and His will. Thinking about most of the prayers at church and in our meetings, we've largely lost this proper focus — we pray for business success, safe travel, restful vacations, healing for the sick, and so on. These aren't wrong; Scripture does tell us to present our requests to God in every situation (Philippians 4:6). But notice that throughout the New Testament, the prayers of Jesus, Paul, and Peter, and most of the instruction about prayer, don't center on these kinds of self-focused wants. They're God-centered instead — even personal requests are framed in terms of God's name and His larger purposes. I can only guess that our prayers stay so self-centered because we're not well trained in God's larger purposes, and not especially concerned with His reputation.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The specific detail this comment highlights — that David's imprecatory language toward Saul is paired with David's actual, repeated restraint toward Saul in real life — is worth underscoring as the key that makes these psalms coherent rather than hypocritical. David never asks God to let him personally destroy Saul; he asks God to handle it, while David himself repeatedly declines the opportunity to act. That combination — honest prayer for justice, paired with genuine personal restraint — is precisely what this comment's later point about prayer focus is describing in miniature: naming a real grievance to God without trying to seize control of the outcome oneself.