Pilgrimage of The Heart - Psalm 84

Doug Floyd

When the LORD calls us, he calls us to pilgrimage. In His call, we are created.
And His call is the breath, the “inSpiriting” that gives us life. In His call we
are recreated, we become a New Creation, shining in the light of His glory. Psalm
84 tells the story of physical pilgrimage to Zion for worship in the presence of
the LORD.

This song of journey stretches across the centuries from a song about a single
journey to the ancient city of God to a song about a lifelong journey to the
shining city of God that John saw and sang about: the New Jerusalem, the marriage
feast, the fullness of glory.

How lovely is your dwelling place,

O Lord of hosts! (vs. 1)

The pilgrim remembers the beauty of God’s dwelling place. In the pattern of
ancient Israel, he remembers by rehearsing the stories of Zion. He has heard the
stories of Zion, of God’s presence, of the gospel of our King. In rehearsing, he
can re-hear, for “faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God” (Rom
10:17).

He has heard the Word of God. Resounding across time and space, the Father speaks
the Word and he hears by the power of the Holy Spirit. The Word of God is calling.
For “Wisdom is calling in the streets,” in the byways, in the forgotten places.
Jesus Christ calls out, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will
give you rest.”

The psalmist has heard the call of God.

Moses heard the Call in the fire of burning bush, “Take your sandals off your
feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

Elijah heard the Call in a shuddering silence.

St. Anthony heard the Call in the church as the preacher read, 'If you would be
perfect, go and sell that you have and give to the poor; and come follow Me and
you shall have treasure in heaven’ (Matt 19:21).

St. Augustine head the Call in the garden through a child singing, “Pick it up and
read. Pick it up and read.”

St. Paul heard the Call on the road to Damascus as a light knocked him from his
horse, “Saul, Saul why are you persecuting me?”

I heard the Call as I stared over a dark lake as the first gleams of dawn pierced
the darkness in my soul, “The morning always comes again after the night.”

This terrible, sweet Call has been likened to a Divine wound. For when the Word of
God pierces the heart, we are ruined. What can we pray but, “Whom have I in heaven
but You? And to be near you I desire nothing on earth” (Psalm 73:25).

The psalmist has been wounded. Now he can only cry,

My soul longs, yes, faints

for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
to the living God. (84:2)

The ache, the burning, the longing, the yearning for a far country grips the
psalmist. For he knows of a sweeter water, a well that never runs dry, springs
that well up unto eternal life. And he longs to go and joyfully “draw water from
the wells of salvation” (Is 12:3).

This longing penetrates the mind, the heart, the body, the very strength of the
person. Once he has caught of fading glimpse of the beatific vision, his eyes are
ruined for the dull beauty of man’s shadowy designs. He cries out like Peter,
“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have
believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:68-69).

In light of the shining beauty of the Lord, it becomes obvious that all creation
rests in the goodness of His love. “The eyes of all look to you, and you give them
their food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every
living thing” (Psalm 145:15-16). The flowers of the field and the birds of the air
do not strive but simply rest in the sweet radiance of God’s loving provision.

Even the sparrow finds a home,

and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
my King and my God. (vs 3)

Just as the sparrow is given provision and a place to grow and thrive, the
psalmist knows his nest, his home, his true place of rest is at the altars of his
King and God. Resting in the provision of the Lord, the body and blood of the Lord
Jesus Christ, he will know the deep joy of abiding love and he will sing.

Blessed are those who dwell in your house,

ever singing your praise! Selah (vs. 4)

This rehearsing stirs his heart and mind to pilgrimage. He will set out on
journey. Not for a token treasure or a momentary encounter but for the eternal
City of God. He will go searching for the place of his resurrection. He will say
with Peter and the disciples, “we have left everything to follow you” (Mark
10:28).

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,

in whose heart are the highways to Zion. (vs. 5)

Now his whole life is characterized by pilgrimage. Every breath, every act, every
thought, every struggle is incorporated into this journey of the whole person.
This pilgrimage is not what Tolkien calls a “here and back again tale.” Rather it
is a journey fraught with danger that ends only in arrival at the beginning and
end of all things.

The pilgrim who has been swept up into the call of God becomes prayer, becomes
praise, becomes a song to the Most High. This is more than words, it is the song
of “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ” flowing upon,
within and through them. In joy and sorrow, in laughter and tears, in great faith
and dark doubt, the pilgrim is moving with the breath of God’s love, and in the
end, his life will be understood as a song recounting the glory and wonder of the
Lord.

As they go through the Valley of Baca

they make it a place of springs;
the early rain also covers it with pools. (vs 6)

His lifelong pilgrimage will lead straight through the depths of the valleys. He
doesn’t not escape the valley of the shadow of death but walks, stumbles into the
depths of pain, suffering and at times despair. But even here he is not alone. For
the Spirit of God is enveloping, surrounding, transforming the pilgrim.

In the deathlike throes of the desert, he cries aloud for water and the Lord hears
him for the Lord has promised, “When the poor and needy seek water, and there is
none, and their tongue is parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them; I the
God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers on the bare heights, and
fountains in the midst of the valleys. I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
and the dry land springs of water” (Is. 41:17-18).

There are times and seasons of weariness. There are paths filled with much
affliction, anguish of heart, many tears and even despair unto death. But the good
God of heaven does not forsake his frail pilgrims. He hears their cries.

Even though St. Paul “despaired unto death,” he knew the goodness of God that
comforted him in deepest affliction. In his brokeness, he became an “aroma of
life” to those who were being redeemed. The psalmist knows this great grace that
can transform the deeps groans of Baca into springs of life and renewal.

They go from strength to strength;

each one appears before God in Zion. (vs. 7)

As the pilgrim journeys toward Zion, he is being renewed both inwardly and
outwardly. He is renewed in faith and friendship. For this pilgrimage is not
simply a personal journey into enlightenment, it is a path of love, of friendship,
of community.

What started out as the journey of one pilgrim becomes a company of talking,
singing and rejoicing people. One woman at the well encountered the Lord of Glory.
She ran home but returned with a parade of people hopefully looking for the
Messiah.

Augustine encountered the lover of his soul, and ran toward that love. In so
doing, he believed he was running toward a great company of friends surrounding
the throne of God.

And so bands of pilgrims cross the plains of this life telling stories, singing
songs and walking from faith to faith, from glory to glory, from strength to
strength. While still far off from the Holy City, they perceive they are but a
small band of faithful followers. But as they comes closer to the gates, they see
more bands of pilgrims. And soon more bands of pilgrims. Soon they see multitudes
of saints from across the ages walking from strength to strength. Finally, they
hear the echoes of Jesus sweet loving prayer for his great Bride, the communion of
saints, “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me
through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and
I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have
sent me” (John 17:20-21).

O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer;

give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah
Behold our shield, O God;
look on the face of your anointed! (vs. 8-9)

This growing band of pilgrims is now coming close to the throne, to the Heavenly
Father. As they being drawing near, they bow and ask the Father not to look upon
them, but upon their Anointed King, the Messiah. And as they speak, they join in
the chorus singing to their King, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open
its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from
every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom
and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth” (Rev 5:9-10).

Now in the holy city, standing before the lover of their souls, the pilgrims lift
of songs and shouts of praise. They’ve found their true home. Up until now,
they’ve lived only in tents. No matter how glorious and wondrous these tents were,
a great more glorious home awaited. And now they can finally Sabbath. They rest in
the goodness of the Lord who faithfully led His band of saints across time and
space into the place of joy forevermore.

For a day in your courts is better

than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
For the Lord God is a sun and shield;
the Lord bestows favor and honor.
No good thing does he withhold
from those who walk uprightly.
O Lord of hosts,
blessed is the one who trusts in you! (vs. 10-12)