When The Foundations Are Shaken Series

When the Foundations Are Shaken

Text: Psalm 11 (KJV)

Introduction

I want you to think about a specific feeling. It's that lurch in your stomach when you're standing on something you thought was solid, and it suddenly gives way. It's the dizziness of vertigo, the feeling that the world has tilted on its axis and you're about to lose your balance. It's a feeling of profound instability.

We don't need an earthquake to feel this. We feel it when we scan the news headlines and see a world that seems to have lost its moral compass. We feel it when the job we depended on for years suddenly feels insecure. We feel it when a relationship we built our life around begins to crack and crumble. We feel it when we look at our children and wonder what kind of world we are leaving for them. It's the feeling of the foundations—the very things we count on—being shaken.

In those moments of crisis and anxiety, the world's wisdom, and often the whispers of our own hearts, offer what sounds like sensible advice. It's a primal, instinctual response: "Run. Protect yourself. Get away. Flee." Our text for today, the magnificent Psalm 11, opens in the middle of this very conversation. The psalmist, David, is a man in peril. He is likely on the run from a paranoid and murderous King Saul. His life is in danger. And his friends, who no doubt love him, are giving him the "sensible" advice. But David's response is not one of panic. It is a defiant roar of faith that echoes through three thousand years to find us here today. This psalm teaches us that there are two ways to view a crisis. You can view it from the ground up, seeing only the danger and the crumbling foundations. Or you can view it from heaven down, seeing the unshakable throne of God. Tonight, let us learn to choose the heavenly perspective.

1. The Counsel of Fear (Verses 1-3)

David starts by quoting the advice he's receiving. It is a direct challenge: "how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?" Notice, this advice is directed at his soul—the very core of his being. This isn't just practical advice; it's a spiritual temptation. The image is vivid: a small, trembling songbird, startled by a predator, darting in panic to a lonely crevice in the mountains. It is a picture of isolation, of retreat, of giving up the fight. It's the voice that tells you, "Don't engage. Keep your head down. Just survive."

And let's be honest, the reasoning behind this advice is powerful. Verse 2 makes it clear this isn't an imaginary threat: "For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart." This is a chilling picture of calculated evil. The enemy isn't just angry; he is methodical. He has a weapon, he has ammunition, and he has a target: the upright in heart. And notice the word "privily"—in secret, from the shadows. The arrows of today are often the same: the anonymous comment online that destroys a reputation, the gossip whispered in the workplace that poisons a career, the subtle temptation that ambushes us when we are tired and alone. The danger is real. The fear is understandable.

This leads to the climax of despair in verse 3. It is one of the most poignant questions in all the psalms: "If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?" What are these foundations? They are the pillars of trust that hold a society, and our personal lives, together. The foundation of Truth, when we can no longer agree on what is real. The foundation of Justice, when it seems the system is rigged for the powerful. The foundation of Integrity, when promises are broken and leaders fail us. The foundation of the Family, when homes are fracturing.

When these things crumble, a deep and terrifying helplessness sets in. What's the point of being honest if everyone else is cheating? What's the point of working for peace when everyone else is fighting? What can one righteous person do? The counsel of fear says: "Nothing. You can do nothing. So just flee." It is a logical conclusion, if your gaze is fixed only on the earth.

2. The Confidence of Faith (Verses 1, 4-5)

But David refuses to fix his gaze on the earth. He rejects the logical conclusion of fear and counters it with the radical declaration of faith. He begins the psalm with his conclusion: "In the LORD put I my trust." This is David's headline. Everything else is just commentary. He is making a conscious choice to shift his perspective from the horizontal threat of the archers to the vertical reality of his God.