Sermon for July 19th, 2026

Psalm 20:1-9

To the leader. A Psalm of David. 1 The Lord answer you in the day of trouble! The name of the God of Jacob protect you! 2 May he send you help from the sanctuary, and give you support from Zion. 3 May he remember all your offerings, and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices. Selah 4 May he grant you your heart’s desire, and fulfill all your plans. 5 May we shout for joy over your victory, and in the name of our God set up our banners. May the Lord fulfill all your petitions. 6 Now I know that the Lord will help his anointed; he will answer him from his holy heaven with mighty victories by his right hand. 7 Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the Lord our God. 8 They will collapse and fall, but we shall rise and stand upright. 9 Give victory to the king, O Lord; answer us when we call.

Psalm 20: Setting Out With a Blessing

There's an old Irish blessing--probably not the one you're thinking of--and it goes like this: May those who love us, love us. And those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts. And if he doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping.

Here's another one: May your neighbors respect you, may trouble neglect you, may the angels protect you, and may heaven accept you—but not just yet.

And one more: May you have the foresight to know where you are going, the hindsight to know where you've been, and the good luck not to run over yourself in the process.

Blessings--whether funny, beautiful, or deeply touching--are essentially small prayers of goodwill that we express toward people or things that are close to us. We bless our food before a meal, we bless people when they sneeze, and here in Texas, we say "bless your heart" when we want to politely excuse someone who said or did something stupid. As a church community, we bless backpacks at the beginning of a school year (which we'll do again two weeks from today!); we bless our graduates at the end of the school year; we bless the pets in our community after Easter, and we say a shalom blessing over families and church members who are moving away to begin a new chapter of their lives in a different place. We'll come back to that a bit later in the service!

Our scripture reading today is Psalm 20, and it is essentially a Psalm of blessing. But embedded within its nine short verses is, I think, a template for anyone who has ever stood at the edge of something unknown--a blessing spoken at the threshold, before the journey begins, while the outcome is still uncertain.

Psalm 20 is also one of the “royal psalms”--a psalm written for the king. The ascription at the beginning of the Psalm says that it is "A Psalm of David" but the preposition in Hebrew that is translated "of" is pretty ambiguous. It can also mean "to" or "for" or "about"--and in this case, I think it is probably better translated "A Psalm FOR David." This psalm was probably used in public worship just before the king and his army departed for battle. The troops have assembled, the chariots and horses are ready, and all the appropriate sacrifices have been offered. But before the king leaves the safety of Jerusalem and crosses the threshold into danger, the people gather around him and send him out with a blessing.

If you listen carefully, you can hear different voices speaking within the psalm. In the first five verses, the people address the king directly: “May the Lord answer you. May the Lord protect you. May the Lord send you help. May the Lord remember you.” Then, in verse six, another voice responds: “Now I know that the Lord will help his anointed.” Finally, the whole community joins together again: “Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the Lord our God.”

In other words, this is not simply the private prayer of a king asking God to help him win a battle. It is a communal act of faith. The king may be the one setting out, but the entire community is placing its faith around him. They do not know what will happen. They cannot promise that the battle will be easy or that everything will unfold according to plan. What they can promise is that the king will not go alone: he carries with him the prayers of his people and the presence of his God.

Psalm 20, then, is a psalm for the threshold--that place between what has been and what comes next, between the familiar world behind us and the uncertain road ahead. And while very few of us will ever ride out of Jerusalem at the head of an army, all of us will eventually find ourselves standing at that threshold, preparing to set out into something new.

So what do you say to someone standing at a threshold? Listen to what the people say--because every line of this blessing names something the traveler is going to need.

It begins in verse 1: "May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble." Notice that it doesn't say, "May you never HAVE any trouble." Trouble is assumed as a natural part of every journey, part of every life. The prayer is simply that when trouble comes, God will be there. God will answer.

And which God? "May the name of the God of Jacob protect you." The God of Jacob is just a poetic way of saying the God of Israel (Jacob's other, God-given name). But of all the ancestors the people could have invoked, Jacob makes sense. Jacob was a traveler--a complicated, imperfect man who fled from home, wrestled with God in the dark, and limped back by a road he never planned to take. The God of Jacob is the God who accompanies real people on real journeys, all the way there and all the way back.

In verse 2, the people pray, "May he send you help from the sanctuary, and give you support from Zion." They say this as they are standing in the sanctuary, and in the city of Zion, or Jerusalem. They are essentially adding their own support to the cause: May God help you, and may we help you, too. That's important--when you pray a blessing over someone, it's not just a passing hope for God to do something: You are committing yourself--your thoughts, your actions, your resources--to making that blessing a reality.

In verses 3 and 4, the people also ask God to remember the traveler's offerings, to grant his heart’s desire, and to fulfill his plans. These are not attempts to purchase God’s favor or persuade God to approve whatever the traveler wants. Instead, they place those desires and plans into God’s hands, asking God to receive them, guide them, and bring them into harmony with HIS desires and plans.

Then a shift in verse 5: "May we shout for joy over your victory." All along it has been you, you, you--and suddenly it becomes we. The traveler's trouble will be our trouble; his victory will be our joy. Whatever lies beyond the city walls, one thing is settled before the traveler takes a single step: he is not going alone.

Verse 6 brings yet another shift, this time in a different voice altogether: “Now I know that the Lord will help his anointed. He will answer him from his holy heaven with mighty victories by his right hand.” Five times the people have said, “May the Lord...” which is a hope, a prayer, in the face of uncertainty. But now a lone voice (probably the king, the traveler) responds with complete confidence: “Now I KNOW... He WILL answer...”

The army has not moved, the battle has not begun, and the outcome remains uncertain. But the traveler has heard the faith of his community spoken over him.

That, I think, is one of the most important functions of the church: Because we can't always get to "I know" on our own. There are seasons of life--in the hospital waiting room, after a devastating loss, or when the world seems to be falling apart--when "I know" simply won't come out of our mouths. And in those seasons, when our personal faith is running low... we borrow hope, we borrow strength from the community of faith. When you cannot yet say "I know," the church stands beside you and says, "May the Lord hear you. May the Lord bless you" and in that way, the church holds faith for you until you can hold it again yourself.

The traveler (on a journey, or through life) still does not know what will happen. But he knows that whatever happens, he will not face it alone. That leaves one important question: As we step into an uncertain future, where are we ultimately placing our trust?

The people answer that question in verse 7: “Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the Lord our God.”

In the ancient world, chariots and horses were the ultimate military technology--the visible, countable things that made success look guaranteed. We have our own versions: Savings accounts, investments, careful plans, good insurance, the right connections. None of these things are bad. Notice that the psalm doesn't condemn them--the king's army presumably still takes its chariots and horses into battle. Israel isn't against preparation. The question the psalm asks is not whether you have chariots, but whether the chariots are where you should place the foundation of your confidence.

If your faith is in your preparations and plans, you need to hear Verse 8: "They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright." Chariots break down. Horses stumble. Plans change, resources run out, and roads take drastic turns nobody saw coming. If you can count it, then you can count on it failing--eventually, somewhere, at the worst possible moment. What never fails, however, is the faithfulness of God.

This is also the difference between trust and control. Control says, “I know what's going to happen because I have planned for every possibility.” Trust says, “I don't know what's going to happen, but I know who will be with me.” And that is ultimately what we offer when we send someone out with a blessing.

And that, of course, brings us back to the Price family. This Sunday, Cary, Laura, Cora, Cece, and Carter are standing at a very real threshold. Cary has received a new assignment flying helicopters in Washington; Laura has accepted a new position as the director of a school a lot like ours; and as a family they are setting out toward a new home, a new community, and a future that none of us can fully see.

The Prices have been woven into the fabric of this congregation for many years. Laura has served as a key leader in our church and our school. Cary has been called on more times than I can count to fix things when they fall apart, and has been a leader in our cub scout pack. Cora, Cece and Carter were all baptized in our sanctuary, educated in our classrooms, camped with our scouts, and have taken the stage to sing, dance, and perform many, many times through the years. Their story has become part of our story--which means that their journey is our journey, too. Their troubles will be our troubles, their victories will be our joys, and the prayers of this community will travel with them.

In a few moments, we will do for them precisely what the people of Israel did in Psalm 20. When we speak the Shalom Blessing over them, we are not merely wishing them good luck or saying a fond farewell. We are placing our faith around them. We are lending them our faith to pack alongside their own. We are saying, “May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble. May the Lord send you help and give you support. May God guide your desires and fulfill your plans.” And we are committing ourselves to remain part of that blessing--to continue loving them, praying for them, and supporting them across the distance.

But in a larger sense, the Prices are not the only ones standing on a threshold today. Every one of us is setting out into something new, every day: a new school year, a child leaving home, a changed relationship, an uncertain diagnosis, a big decision, or just another week whose troubles we can't yet see. All of us eventually face a road we cannot map and a future we cannot control.

And when that happens, Psalm 20 reminds us that we do not have to set out alone. We can borrow the faith of the people around us, place our trust in the God who goes with us, and step across the threshold with a blessing.