The Pride of the Wicked

There is a pain that comes from watching people do wrong and seem to prosper by it. We see pride rewarded, cruelty excused, and dishonest words accepted as truth. Meanwhile, those trying to walk faithfully may find themselves carrying burdens that grow heavier each day. Under that weight, a difficult question begins to form: What has become of justice?

Psalm 73 allows that question to be heard. Asaph begins by affirming the goodness of God, yet almost immediately admits how close he came to losing his footing:

“But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped. For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.”

— Psalm 73:2–3, KJV

He had watched the wicked long enough that their apparent success began to disturb his trust in God. He could see what they possessed and the ease they appeared to enjoy. What he could not yet understand was where their way of life was taking them.

His description of their pride is striking:

“Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.”

— Psalm 73:6, KJV

They wear their pride openly. Their conduct suggests that they feel secure enough to oppress others without fear of answering for it. Their words grow lofty. Their mouths reach toward heaven, and their tongues move through the earth. They speak as though their position gives them authority over everyone beneath them.

Eventually, their arrogance reaches the question recorded in verse 11: “How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?”

Here we see the spiritual danger within their condition. They live as though God does not see, does not know, or will never require an account. Their prosperity has encouraged a confidence that shuts out correction. When wrongdoing appears to go unanswered, pride can mistake the delay for permission.

Asaph feels the force of this. He looks at their increasing riches and then considers his daily affliction. The comparison brings him to a painful thought:

“Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.”

— Psalm 73:13, KJV

A person can believe in God and still become exhausted by what he cannot reconcile. He may have tried to speak truthfully, show mercy, restrain his anger, and do what is right, only to find himself wounded while those who disregard these things appear to flourish.

Asaph also recognizes that speaking from his despair could injure others who trust God. He feels the weight of his thoughts and the responsibility of what he might do with them.

“When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me; until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.”

— Psalm 73:16–17, KJV

The turning point comes in the presence of God. There, Asaph begins to see beyond the moment that has held his attention. The prosperity he envied cannot secure those who possess it against God’s judgment. What looked firmly established is described as slippery ground.

At the beginning, Asaph says his own feet had almost slipped. Later, he understands that the wicked themselves stand in slippery places. His envy had drawn him toward a condition whose danger he had failed to recognize.

As his understanding changes, he acknowledges the bitterness within his own heart. The wrong he observed was real, but his response had clouded his judgment. Even then, God had continued to hold him:

“Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.”

— Psalm 73:23, KJV

That word, nevertheless, carries tenderness. Through the confusion, the envy, and the grief he struggled to understand, God had not ceased to sustain him. Asaph comes to recognize God’s presence as his lasting portion.

The Wounded Heart

Yet pain has another depth when the wickedness we observe turns directly against us. It enters our lives through accusations, betrayal, and hatred returned for love. Psalm 109 brings us into that wounded place.

“For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.”

— Psalm 109:2, KJV

A lie can travel beyond our reach. It can enter conversations where we are absent and shape judgments before we have an opportunity to answer. The wounded person carries both the injury itself and the knowledge that others may believe the accusation.

The psalmist describes hatred surrounding him. Then he reveals what makes the experience especially bitter:

“For my love they are my adversaries: but I give myself unto prayer. And they have rewarded me evil for good, and hatred for my love.”

— Psalm 109:4–5, KJV

He had offered love and sought another’s good. What came back was opposition.

Such an experience can reach into a person’s willingness to love again. We question our judgment. We wonder whether kindness has made us vulnerable, whether trust was foolish, whether it would be easier to close our hearts. The injury continues working within us long after the encounter has ended.

In that wounded place, the psalmist gives himself to prayer.

Bringing Anger Before God

His prayer does not arrive in calm, measured language. Psalm 109 contains severe appeals for judgment, reaching even into the household and descendants of his adversary. These are difficult words. They reveal the anguish of someone who longs for wrongdoing to be answered and its power brought to an end.

As we read, we must examine what we do with our own pain. Bringing anger before God gives us a place to speak honestly and submit ourselves to his judgment. We need his discernment concerning the wrong done to us and concerning what that wrong is producing within us. Our wounds need care; our desires also need his searching light. These appeals should not become our permission to pursue personal revenge.

The psalm names the cruelty at the heart of the accusation:

“Because that he remembered not to shew mercy, but persecuted the poor and needy man, that he might even slay the broken in heart.”

— Psalm 109:16, KJV

The absence of mercy has consequences. A person already bowed beneath sorrow can be crushed further by someone determined to exploit that weakness. Pride becomes especially destructive when another person’s vulnerability offers it an opportunity to dominate.

Here the descriptions in Psalms 73 and 109 meet. In Psalm 73, we see pride worn openly and hear the lofty speech of oppression. In Psalm 109, we hear someone suffering beneath it. We begin to understand the human cost.

“For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.”

— Psalm 109:22, KJV

He describes himself as a declining shadow, tossed about and unable to settle. His knees are weak through fasting. His body has grown thin. Those who look upon him shake their heads.

We should stay with that wounded heart long enough to hear it. People in distress may struggle to explain everything they carry. Their exhaustion may appear in their bodies, their speech, their withdrawal, or their difficulty trusting anyone. This psalm gives language to suffering that might otherwise remain hidden.

From there comes the appeal:

“Help me, O LORD my God: O save me according to thy mercy.”

— Psalm 109:26, KJV

He places his need before God’s mercy and asks that his deliverance be recognized as God’s own work. His hope reaches beyond the voices condemning him. They may continue speaking, but he looks to the Lord for the blessing that will sustain his life.

The final verse gives that hope a remarkable form:

“For he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul.”

— Psalm 109:31, KJV

The sufferer who has felt surrounded by accusers now speaks of God standing beside the needy. His weakness has not made him beneath God’s notice. In the place where others seek his condemnation, he looks for God’s defense.

The King and Priest

Psalm 110 opens with another declaration concerning the right hand:

“The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool.”

— Psalm 110:1, KJV

These are distinct psalms, yet reading them together gives us a meaningful movement: from God standing beside the afflicted to the Lord’s appointed ruler seated in authority. The cries of the wounded come before a God who has power to judge.

Psalm 110 speaks forcefully of judgment. Oppression cannot claim permanent authority over God’s creation. The psalm also announces an enduring priesthood:

“The LORD hath sworn, and will not repent, Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.”

— Psalm 110:4, KJV

Within our Christian reading, this royal and priestly promise directs our attention toward Christ. It prepares us to consider his authority and his intercession, bringing us toward the prayer recorded in John 17.

Keep Them

Jesus lifts his eyes to heaven:

“Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee.”

— John 17:1, KJV

His arrest is approaching. Betrayal and violence will soon unfold. John 17 lets us hear his prayer on the threshold of that suffering. He speaks of the Father’s glory, the work entrusted to him, and the people who have received the Father’s word through him.

As danger draws near, his concern extends toward those who will remain after his departure:

“Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are.”

— John 17:11, KJV

There is tenderness in that request: Keep them.

He knows the world into which they will go. He names the hostility they face:

“I have given them thy word; and the world hath hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.”

— John 17:14, KJV

Faithfulness does not guarantee acceptance. Love can meet hostility. Truth can draw opposition. A person may seek another’s good and still become the object of resentment.

We must examine ourselves honestly here. Opposition alone does not establish that we are right. Our conduct and words still need correction. Yet Christ’s prayer prepares his followers for the possibility that obedience itself will be costly. When that happens, they can remember that he prayed for them before they faced it.

“I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.”

— John 17:15, KJV

They will still have work to do, people to serve, and truth to bear witness to. Jesus asks for their keeping within the place of their calling.

Kept in Truth and Love

For the wounded heart, this opens a searching question: How shall I live among people after people have hurt me?

Pain can teach us to expect betrayal everywhere. It can make suspicion feel like wisdom and harshness feel like strength. We may begin to answer others with the very spirit that injured us. Christ’s prayer gives us reason to ask the Father to preserve our hearts as well as sustain our lives.

“Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth.”

— John 17:17, KJV

God’s truth exposes cruelty and deceit. It also searches the bitterness, envy, and pride that can take root in an injured heart. Asaph came to recognize how grief had clouded his understanding. We need that same willingness to be searched. We can speak truthfully about the wrong done to us while allowing God to examine our response.

Jesus speaks of sending his disciples into the world. Their lives have a purpose beyond the hostility they will encounter. Those who oppose them cannot define the whole meaning of their calling.

His prayer then reaches beyond those first disciples:

“Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word.”

— John 17:20, KJV

Here later believers enter the scope of his intercession. Before we knew our own trials, Christ’s prayer embraced those who would come to believe through the witness of his followers.

He asks that they may be one in the Father and the Son, so that the world may believe the Father sent him. Their life together is to bear witness to him.

Pride makes such fellowship difficult. It insists upon its own importance, resists correction, and looks down upon others. The love Jesus asks to dwell in his people draws them toward mutual care. Another person’s wound matters. Weakness deserves compassion. Truth should be spoken with responsibility before God.

This does not require us to conceal wrongdoing or remain continually available to abuse. Truthful boundaries and accountability can be necessary expressions of care. Within those decisions, we can still ask the Father to keep hatred from governing us.

Jesus closes his prayer with these words:

“And I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it: that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.”

— John 17:26, KJV

God, the Strength of My Heart

This is where our movement through these passages brings us: to the love of the Father dwelling in people who must still live in a troubled world.

We can tell God that we do not understand. We can confess that another person’s apparent success has stirred envy in us. We can bring him the accusations, the exhaustion, and the love that was answered with hostility. We can ask for justice while submitting our hearts to his judgment.

Within Christ’s prayer, we hear his concern that we be kept, sanctified in truth, and drawn into the Father’s love. The wound may take time to heal. Some wrongs remain unresolved before our eyes. Asaph’s confession gives us words for continuing faithfully through that uncertainty:

“My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”

— Psalm 73:26, KJV

Our strength can fail without exhausting his faithfulness. We may come into prayer with little more than the ability to ask for help. There, the wounded heart can begin again—held by God, searched by his truth, and sustained by his love.

Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. Principal passages: Psalm 73, Psalms 109–110, and John 17.