Learning to Rejoice in an Age of Lies
Resting upon the rock of God's immutable justice
“Hide me from the secret plots of the wicked, from the throng of evildoers, who whet their tongues like swords, who aim bitter words like arrows, shooting from ambush at the blameless, shooting at him suddenly and without fear.” (Psalm 64:2–4)
When the human heart bumps up against a lie, and it recognizes it to be a lie, its natural response tends to be one of mistrust. When confronted by another lie, the mistrust deepens. When met by still another, followed by more, which are then sweetened with yet more falsehood, the heart’s initial mistrust quickly ferments into outright skepticism. Unable to cope with the bombardment of deceit, the person soon begins to doubt everything, until eventually the hope of ever arriving at the truth grows dangerously bleak.
This phenomenon is something akin to what many in the West have experienced ad nauseam over the last several years. Whether one points to the masking debacle, the Covid vaccine catastrophe, the “transgender” nightmare, or the sudden ubiquity of creepy, bearded weirdos with a fetish for dresses and young children, the Western mind has been sold a barrel full of steaming horse dung. It has been subjected to a near ceaseless stream of deceit and told to drink without question. Like Winston in Orwell’s 1984, we have been commanded to say that two and two make five, with all the levers of cultural and social pressure applied to procure our compliance.
But, as mentioned above, the outcome of such treatment has not been to produce a serene and glassy-eyed servility among the masses. For many, it has had the opposite effect, resulting in a pervasive and needling skepticism that now colors their entire outlook on culture, politics, and the world at large. For these folks, everything must be questioned. Nothing can be taken at face value. For who can tell how far down the lies go? Who can discern the delicate line between truth and falsehood? Who can say whether the narrative being presented isn’t just some fabrication of the talking heads on TV?
These are real questions and I sympathize with them. At the same time, however, I am reminded of Lewis' observation at the end of the Abolition of Man, namely, that to “see through” all things is the same as not to see. When every proposition has been dismantled, every statement dissected, and every ulterior motive exposed, what remains? What foundation lies beneath our feet? Do we have a positive vision upon which to build, or do we simply have a hollow void of seething resentments and doubt? The thread of skepticism is a dangerous thing: tug on it too long and you unravel the world.
In the Scriptures, we’re met with a better way. As David makes clear in these verses, he is no stranger to the “secret plots” of the wicked (v. 2). He is well acquainted with those who “hold fast” to their evil purpose and talk of laying snares in secret (v. 5). But even so, he doesn’t busy himself with trying to unravel their conspiracies. Nor does he waste time trying to peer into their hidden counsels, as if his hope depended upon exposing every twist and turn of their evil machinations.
Instead, David sets his heart upon the sure foundation of God’s immutable and perfect justice:
“But God shoots his arrow at them; they are wounded suddenly. They are brought to ruin, with their own tongues turned against them; all who see them will wag their heads. Then all mankind fears; they tell what God has brought about and ponder what he has done” (vv. 7–9).
As Ben Inglis noted in a sermon recently, there is more to the world than mere politics and power. The Lord of heaven and earth, the only wise God and Ancient of days, presides over all the din and tumult with perfect justice. He does what we cannot: His eyes see, His eyelids test the children of man (Ps. 11:4), and nothing escapes His sight. Every wicked plot that has ever been hatched throughout the annals of history, right down to the backroom conversations at the WEF, has been heard and weighed in the balance. Eternal, immutable, infinite Righteousness will have the last word.
What this means for us is that the impossible burden of omniscience has been lifted from our shoulders. We don’t have to play the role of the Judge of all the earth. That position is filled — and far better than we could ever do. Thus, we can give ourselves instead to where David concludes, to joy and worship:
“Let the righteous one rejoice in the LORD and take refuge in him! Let all the upright in heart exult!” (v. 10).
This is the way forward in an age of deception and conspiracy. Let’s give ourselves to it, with faith and with joy.
Wonderfully encouraging Jacob. Thank you so much.