Rejecting What’s False
Some things in life can handle a little compromise. You can split toppings on a pizza. You can agree to disagree about what to watch on Netflix. But truth is not one of those things. And the psalmist knows it.
This section of Psalm 119 is intense. The psalmist says he hates the double-minded. He speaks of God discarding the wicked like worthless dross. He trembles at God’s judgment. And if we’re not paying attention, we might read those words and think they sound harsh. But that would miss the heart of it. This isn’t fueled by pride or superiority. It’s fueled by holy awe. The psalmist isn’t pretending to be perfect. He’s pleading to be faithful.
That’s the invitation before us today. Not to play church. Not to nod along with truths we’ve stopped living. But to ask ourselves where our hearts really stand. Do we love what God loves? Do we hate what He hates? Do we tremble rightly before the One who holds all things together? Because the way you answer those questions is the difference between drifting and standing firm.
You can’t love God’s Word without hating what opposes it. (113–114)
That’s not a harsh statement. That’s a necessary one. Verse 113 says, “I hate the double-minded, but I love your law.” The psalmist isn’t standing in a fog of moral neutrality. He sees things clearly. He loves the Word of God. And because he loves it, he can’t be comfortable with what wars against it.
The Hebrew word translated “double-minded” is literally “divided ones.” It describes not just someone with. Split mind, but someone with a split heart, someone who tries to walk with God while also walking with the world. It’s like trying to follow two different voices going in opposite directions. Eventually, something has to give. You either lay down your idols and follow Jesus, or you hold onto your idols and drift away from Him. You can’t do both.
The psalmist draws a hard line here. He says, I’m not okay with half-hearted devotion. I’m not admiring the balancing act. I’m rejecting it. A heart divided cannot truly delight in truth. It will always hesitate. It will always compromise. It will always settle for less. That is why he draws the contrast so sharply. He says he hates the double-minded. But he loves the law of the Lord.
And then he shifts. Verse 114 says, “You are my hiding place and my shield. I hope in your word.” That’s not just a shift in tone. That’s the heart of it all. He’s not saying these things because he enjoys being angry at sin. He is saying them because he has found something better. God’s Word is not just instruction about right and wrong. It is a refuge for us. It is a shield when arrows are flying. It is a hiding place when accusations come. It is the place his soul runs to when everything else collapses. He doesn’t just obey the Word. He clings to it. He hopes in it.
And if the Word of God is not your shelter, then something else is. And whatever that is, it will not hold up. Maybe it’s your success. Maybe it’s approval. Maybe it’s the illusion that you can do this on your own. But when the storm hits, those shelters crumble. Only the Word of God stands.
So let me ask you. Where is your heart today? Are you holding fast to the Word? Or are you trying to play both sides? You can’t walk in the light while loving the shadows. You can’t love God’s Word while tolerating what tears it down. You don’t have to be perfect. But you do have to choose. Because loving God means turning from everything that pulls you away from Him. And that begins with the Word.
You can’t follow God while walking with evil. (115–117)
Obedience doesn’t grow in just any soil. It needs the right environment. It needs distance from what poisons it. That’s why the psalmist doesn’t just ask for strength to do the right thing. He starts with a separation: “Depart from me, you evildoers, that I may keep the commandments of my God” (115). He isn’t being rude. He’s being righteous. Holiness is never accidental. You can’t cling to purity while holding hands with what drags you toward sin.
Psalm 1 says it straight. Blessed is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners. Why? Because proximity matters. It’s not about being better than others. It’s about knowing that spiritual gravity is real. Being around rebellion will pull you into it. Just like mold grows where things are damp and dark, sin grows where godless influence stays close. And the psalmist knows it. So he says, “Depart from me.”
But he doesn’t stop with separation. He moves to dependence. “Uphold me according to your promise, that I may live. Let me not be put to shame in my hope! Hold me up, that I may be safe and have regard for your statutes continually” (116–117). He doesn’t strut with spiritual pride. He leans in with humble dependence. He knows he can’t do this on his own. He doesn’t have the strength. He needs sustaining grace. The very ability to walk with God comes from God.
There’s a kind of obedience that pretends it’s self-made. The kind that says, “I’ve got this. I’m self sufficient.” But that’s not what we see here. This is the cry of someone who’s honest. Someone who knows temptation is close. Someone who knows his own weakness. And he says, “God, you’ve got to hold me up. Or I won’t stand.” Self sufficiency it an illusion. We are all utterly dependent on God.
So what about you? If obedience feels hard right now, if it feels like something you want but just can’t get to, maybe it’s time to check what you’re leaning on. Or who. Are you trying to live for Christ while surrounding yourself with voices that don’t love Him? You won’t drift into obedience. You have to lean into grace. And sometimes that starts with a clear, hard line: “Depart from me, that I may keep the commandments of my God.”
A holy view of God kills a casual view of sin. (118–119)
We talk a lot about God’s love. And we should. But if we strip away His holiness, we’re not talking about the God of Scripture anymore. The psalmist knew that. He didn’t try to explain judgment away or water it down. He stared it in the face. “You spurn all who go astray from your statutes, for their cunning is in vain. All the wicked of the earth you discard like dross” (118–119). That’s not soft language. That’s fire and furnace language. That’s God as judge, not just of actions but of hearts.
The image of dross is telling. In refining metal, dross is the waste. The impurity. It’s what gets scraped off the top and thrown out so the gold can shine. That’s the language the psalmist uses to describe what God does with those who walk away from His Word. Not because He is cruel. But because He is holy. And His Word is so pure that everything fake, everything false, everything counterfeit gets burned away.
But here is what makes this sobering passage even more necessary. It doesn’t just call us to fear. It calls us to honest evaluation. The psalmist is not just pointing fingers outward. He is looking at his own heart. He is reminding us that God’s judgment is not reserved for those other people. It is for all who stray from the Word. It’s not about degrees of wickedness. It’s about departure from truth.
So let me ask. When was the last time God’s judgment/holiness made you tremble? Not just nod in agreement. Not just acknowledge it theologically. But tremble. If we don’t feel the weight of judgment, it is probably because we are standing too far from God’s holy fire or because we have grown too comfortable with sin.
If God’s Word is shaping you, then His judgment will sober you. Not to drive you away but to drive you to Him. To press you into grace. Because only a holy view of God will keep you from walking the path of fools.
Holy fear is what keeps your soul from drifting. (120)
The psalmist ends this section with a verse that invites deep reflection. “My flesh trembles for fear of you, and I am afraid of your judgments” (120). This isn’t fear in the way we typically think of it. It’s not terror that drives you to run and hide. It is the kind of trembling that happens when you realize you are standing in the presence of someone infinitely greater than yourself. It is awe that melts into surrender.
We often talk about fearing God, but let’s be honest, most of us are more afraid of missing out than of missing God. We fear discomfort more than disobedience. We fear rejection from others more than rebellion against the One who made us. But the psalmist isn’t afraid of the wrong things. He’s trembling in the right direction. He’s not paralyzed by anxiety. He’s anchored in awe.
This kind of fear doesn’t shrink you. It sanctifies you. It doesn’t push you away. It pulls you closer. Because it makes you stop treating sin casually. It reminds you that God is not a hobby to be scheduled into your week. He is the holy Lord of all. The Judge of the earth. The One who weighs hearts and exposes motives and sees what we hide.
If sin doesn’t shake you, the Word isn’t shaping you. But if your heart still trembles at His Word, then your feet are less likely to drift from His path. The psalmist ended with trembling flesh. He wasn’t trembling because he feared a cruel God. He trembled because he had drawn near to a holy one. When you stand close to something that powerful, you can’t stay casual. You bow low.
But standing before a holy God also raises a holy question. What hope do sinners like us have when we fall short of His standard? The answer is Jesus. He is the Word who never strayed. The Son who never sinned. The Lamb who took our place. He stood under the judgment we deserve so that we could stand in the righteousness He provides.
He lived perfectly. He died sacrificially. And He rose triumphantly so that trembling sinners could become beloved sons and daughters. Now our fear is not about distance. It is about reverence. It is the kind of awe that moves us to worship and repentance.
So don’t hold on to what is false. Let go of the double life. Turn from the paths that lead away from Him. And cling to the Word made flesh. Jesus Christ is your shield. He is your joy. He is your inheritance forever. Reject what is false. Because He is the truth.
