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.
Where does such a bold faith come from in the face of such a real danger? Verse 4 is the anchor. David stops looking at the crumbling foundations on earth and lifts his eyes to the unshakable reality of heaven. He gives us three reasons for his confidence.
First, "The LORD is in his holy temple." In a world stained by sin, corruption, and chaos, God remains perfectly separate, pure, and holy. His temple is the universe's control room, a place of absolute moral purity. He is not panicking. He is not tainted by the evil of the world. He is a serene and holy refuge for our souls.
Second, "The LORD'S throne is in heaven." This is the doctrine of divine sovereignty made personal. Earthly kingdoms rise and fall. Politicians make promises they can't keep. Economies boom and bust. But God's throne is in heaven—it is above all the chaos, beyond the reach of any earthly power. The headlines that make us tremble do not cause a ripple of concern in the throne room of God. Our King is securely in charge. He has not abdicated. His government will never fail.
Third, "His eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men." This is the most personal part. The King on the throne is not a distant, uncaring deity. He is intimately aware. His "eyes behold"—He sees everything. He sees the wicked archer drawing the bow in secret. But He also sees you, the upright in heart, when you choose to trust Him in the dark. He sees your quiet faithfulness, your unseen integrity.
And more than that, His "eyelids try" or test the children of men. The original Hebrew word, bachan, is the word for a metallurgist testing gold—heating it in a crucible to burn away the impurities and prove its genuineness. Verse 5 confirms this: "The LORD trieth the righteous." Your trial is not a sign of God's abandonment; it is a sign of His attention! He is using the heat of the struggle to refine your faith, to make you stronger, purer, and more like His Son.
3. The Certainty of Justice (Verses 5-7)
This deep confidence in God's character leads to an unshakeable certainty about the future. David knows how the story ends.
Verse 5 gives us a crucial distinction. God tries the righteous for their good, "but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth." Let that sink in. God is not neutral. He has a holy, righteous, and eternal hatred for evil, for violence, for injustice. This isn't a petty human anger; it is the perfect opposition of a holy God to all that would defile His creation. This is a profound comfort to those who have been wronged. God is on the side of justice.
And His hatred of evil is not passive. It leads to a final, decisive judgment described in verse 6: "Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup." This is terrifying language, recalling the judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah. The "portion of their cup" is an ancient phrase. Imagine everyone is given a cup to drink. The wicked have spent their lives filling their cup with violence, deceit, and rebellion against God. At the final judgment, God will simply hand them that cup and say, "Drink what you have mixed." Justice will be served. This truth frees us from the soul-crushing burden of bitterness and vengeance. We can trust God to be the perfect Judge.
But thank God, the psalm does not end there. It ends with the most glorious promise for us. After the storm of judgment comes the sunshine of God's favor in verse 7: "For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright."
Our God is righteous, and He delights in righteousness. And what is the ultimate reward for the one who stands firm, the one who trusts? It is not just survival. It is not just vindication. It is the very "countenance" of God. In Hebrew thought, the "countenance" is the face. To have someone's face turned toward you is to have their presence, their blessing, their favor. It's the opposite of being shunned or ignored. This is the great priestly blessing from Numbers 6: "The LORD make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee." The ultimate reward for faith is to live under the loving gaze of God. It is to know that the Sovereign of the Universe, the King on the throne, looks at you, His child, and smiles.
Conclusion
So we are left with the same choice as David. The foundations in our own lives will be shaken. The arrows will fly. The voices of fear will scream, "Flee! Give up! Hide!"
What will you do?
This week, when you feel that familiar lurch of anxiety, I challenge you to practice the discipline of Psalm 11.
First, Acknowledge the reality of the threat, but Refuse the counsel of fear.
Second, Declare, even if your voice trembles, the foundation of your faith: "In the LORD put I my trust."
Third, consciously Lift your eyes from the crumbling earth to the unshakable throne in heaven. Remind your own soul: God is holy. God is sovereign. God is watching over me.
And finally, rest in this beautiful truth: your struggle has not gone unnoticed. Your faith is seen. And the face of Almighty God is turned toward you in love. You are beheld by your Father.
You don't need to flee to a mountain of fear. You can stand on the Rock of Ages, for He is our firm foundation.
