Surely God is good to Israel,
to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold.
For I envied the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong.
They are free from common human burdens;
they are not plagued by human ills.
Therefore pride is their necklace;
they clothe themselves with violence.
From their callous hearts comes iniquity;
their evil imaginations have no limits.
They scoff, and speak with malice;
with arrogance they threaten oppression.
Their mouths lay claim to heaven,
and their tongues take possession of the earth.
Therefore their people turn to them
and drink up waters in abundance.
They say, “How would God know?
Does the Most High know anything?”
This is what the wicked are like—
always free of care, they go on amassing wealth.
Ps 73.1-12 (NIV)
One of the more distinct marks of the Psalms is their unfettered praise of God. But this worshipful orientation toward Yahweh is matched by an equal capacity for the author to offer radical transparency, honesty, and vulnerability to the One being worshiped. Here, Asaph, the author of Psalm 73, bears before the Divine Creator a distinct sense of profound jealousy that seemingly everyone—Israel and even ‘the wicked’—seems to have everything going well for them. But for Asaph, life stinks and represents one big disappointment after another. Yes, Asaph approaches God with praise on his lips. But he also comes to God with a deep sense of existential jealousy simmering in his heart. Why does everybody else seem to be doing splendidly but me?
This transparency marks much of the composite writings of the psalter. Old Testament professor Ellen Davis likened these transparent utterances of the Psalms to the ‘first amendment of the faithful.’1 That is, they are the free speech of the worshiper before the One being worshiped. If Scripture is inspired—and, indeed, it is—then our own free speech is equally invited to be spoken. This free speech permeates the writings of the 150 psalms of the Bible. Anger, frustration, disappointment—these emotions are found on just about every page of this ancient worship literature.
Of these, one of the more prominent themes of honest complaint that the Psalmist brings to God can be categorized as a set of frustrations that the wicked, the pagan, and the outsider appear to experience more blessing, happiness, and splendor than the one who is themselves worshiping God. In the case of Psalm 73, the author gets specific about their jealousy:
They don’t seem to have any problems in life. (v. 4)
Their bodies look better than mine. (v. 4)
The things I deal with every day aren’t the things they deal with every day. (v. 5)
They are arrogant when I am trying to be humble. (v. 6)
They do violence and are fine and I do peace and I’m not fine. (v. 6)
They are rich and I am not. (v. 12)
The author goes on. Language like this gives voice to what Old Testament scholars call the theological theme of the ‘envy of the wicked.’2 The envy of the wicked is the jealousy the righteous have for all the wicked seem to be having. This unsettling emotion—of feeling like those who do not even give a flying rat about the Lord—leads us to believe that those who couldn’t care less about God are doing much better than we who do love God are. When I teach through Psalm 73, I refer to it as the ‘prosperity gospel in reverse.’ If the prosperity gospel is a belief that through faith, we will be given all the prosperity in this life that our hearts desire, then this envy of the wicked is the belief that believing in Yahweh has not blessed me and even diminished me in a world where everyone else seems to be killing it.
I love that this is included in Scripture. As I read Psalm 73, I find my confidence in Scripture bolstered by such bold truth-telling. As a University professor, I’m often put in positions of serving students with little to no trust in the Bible as a foundational text for understanding God or even the nature of humanity. But texts like these in Psalm 73 make my job a whole lot easier. For the raw honesty of the Bible to even name these emotions—to God nonetheless—speaks to the confidence of Scripture it has in the God that inspired it. Only a secure God would allow this stuff to be included in the book about Him. Indeed, the Bible wants us to know that loving God does not entail us receiving all the prosperity we think we should have coming to us. In fact, sometimes loving God means that while God may have us, everyone else will look happier, more blessed, and have better bodies than our own.
Asaph’s honesty about his own jealousy evokes much within me. I am a 3 on the Enneagram. This means that I am an ‘achiever.’ An achiever tends to locate much of their identity in accomplishment and productivity and ‘being superior’ in life. The way that one knows that I am a 3 is that when I found out about my Enneagram number, my first emotion was deep disappointment that I didn’t score a higher number. With just a little effort, I thought, I could have had a higher number. Lord, have mercy. I soon began asking how I could ‘move up’ toward some higher number—not knowing that Enneagram isn’t a competition. Nor can you earn a higher number.
This is my way of saying that I am, by nature, very prone to envy. One of the most challenging symptoms of envy is a feeling that I can never be content. I must always do more. Other people are always writing better than me, making more than me, and more respected than me. These perennial discontentments can be debilitating. But as of late, another envy has come about. Many evenings out of the week, I walk through my neighborhood for a few miles. As I do, I always observe my neighbor’s garage doors open. It is not the content of those garages that makes me envious. It is that those garages are organized that makes me envious. Uncontrollably envious.
Asaph experienced the envy of the wicked. I experience what I call the ‘envy of the garages of the wicked.’ Ultimately, those garages are tricky for me because I have never really experienced the clean garage I want. I know that I will someday—Lord willing. But for now, those garages just remind me of what I have yet to accomplish at home.
As I think about my envy of other people’s garages, I am reminded of my season of life. I am 43. I am tasked with nourishing my students’ lives, loving my friends, being a husband, and actively being present to my son. At this season of my life, I simply can’t do everything I want to do. The age-old principle applies here—every yes is a renunciation. That is, every ‘yes’ that I say will be a ‘no’ to someone else. As a human being with the gifts of limitations, I can’t say yes to everything. Because if I do, I will say no to the most sacred of assignments. Someday, I will get that garage all organized and cleaned up. But, in this season of my life, I am choosing to be the present father and loving husband and caring teacher that God has called me to be.
Oh, the tragic irony if I had a clean garage but a neglected son.
Psalm 73 invites us to be honest and self-aware of our envies. We have them—all of us. They often impact us in different ways. We may be jealous of our neighbor for their garage or the other pastor down the street for the size of their church or the other writer for the number of their readers or followers. Either way, jealousy is an indigenous part of the life of everyone post-Eden. And knowing those jealousies can be the most redemptive acts in the world. Only by naming these jealousies can their power become undermined. Asaph was on the journey to freedom. Something we should all want as well. Part of worship, then, is coming toe-to-toe with the envy within. This is okay. And it is the path to holiness.
Last week, I encountered a prayer from early Church Father St. Ignatius. It has captivated me, arousing my heart to want to be a man after the heart of God:
Eternal Word, only begotten Son of God, teach me true generosity. Teach me to serve as you deserve-to give without counting the cost, to fight heedless of the wounds, to labor without seeking rest, to sacrifice myself without thought of any reward except for the knowledge that I have done your will.
That kind of true generosity that the ancient father prays says to God—I refuse to need everything. I reject the idea that I’m owed everything I think I deserve. All things are yours, God. And into your hands, all things—my life included—are kept. This kind of generosity can identify the ‘envy of the wicked’ within and say to it that while the world may have its power, money, and glory, these are temporal glories. Your glory isn’t here. And by embracing this, you can live open-handedly.
The Psalmist finds life in naming their jealousies to God. I’ve found hope in confessing my silly envy of the garages of the wicked. What, if any, do you need to confess today to God your Creator and receive true contentment in knowing there is nothing better to have than God Himself?
Ellen Davis, Getting Involved with God: Rediscovering the Old Testament (Lanham, Maryland: Cowley Publications, 2001), 8.
For more, see Michael V. Fox, Proverbs 10-31: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009), 734–35.
As an adult child of a father that chose the “garage” (and yard) over time with his kids, you have chosen well to put your son as the priority. The years are short with our kids- someday they will be gone. You (or me!) will never regret choosing the best over the good.
I am not alone! My neighbors garage is immaculate! I’m always secretly envying how clean it is! Hahah