The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom should I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
of whom then should I go in dread?

So begin the beautiful words of Psalm 27. The Psalmist goes on to observe that when he is attacked by evildoers, identified as his adversaries and enemies, it is they who are discomfited; even the threat of an army encamped against him would not cause him any fear, not even the assault of armed men. Following this affirmation of faith, the writer craves to know his Lord with increasing intimacy. He knows that in God alone lie succour and shelter, in his Master there is triumph over his assailants so that he can hold his head high and sing a psalm of praise.

Then comes an abrupt change of mood; from triumphant assurance there is a desperate plea for help against present attack: his faith now has to be put to the test of action as he battles for his very life. Knowing that alone he will be exterminated, he calls desperately to God, begging him not to turn away from him in his wrath or to reject and forsake him in his extremity. The apparent result is survival, perhaps even victory, for in the end he affirms his trust in God:

Well I know that I shall see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and brave;
and put your hope in the Lord.

The outcome has by no means been easy, let alone a foregone conclusion, but in the heat of the fight wisdom has come to the Psalmist as he asked God to teach him his way, a request so often encountered in the psalms, especially Psalm 119 which, as we have seen, is one extended praise of the divine law and a plea for help in realizing it in one's personal life.

The first six verses of Psalm 27, those of confident assurance, have often been on the lips of people in the midst of trouble. Long ago I read of a woman who was one of the first to undergo surgery on her ovaries. There were no anaesthetics in those days, and so she kept up her courage, incredible in terms of our own times, by repeating verses from the Psalms; these verses from Psalm 27 have been a special strength in extreme travail, for they speak of the universal human experience. They also are an epitome of religious faith that has later to be tested in a time of trouble. The abrupt change in the Psalmist's tone as he is challenged is typical of the human condition; we at once revert to our childhood state, which is never very far from the surface of our consciousness no matter how sophisticated our worldly attitude, and call desperately for our beloved parents' presence and assistance; in the process humbling ourselves sufficiently to ask for guidance and vowing to start a new style of living.

When the emergency is over most of us tend to revert to the past heedless existence, a situation so dramatically described in the parable of the Unforgiving Debtor (Matt. 18:23-35). As in this fearsome story, we lay up for ourselves suffering out of all proportion to what we knew previously. But a few of us, perhaps by virtue of rueful experience in the past, have learnt the lesson of gratitude, and our lives are turned more positively to the light. This is the full meaning of conversion. The courageous Christian woman in the agony of primitive surgery had already attained this level of spiritual awareness, and so she could co-operate with God and the gallant surgeon. The end result was not only her own cure, a minor landmark in medical history, but an opening of the way to further surgical expertise which has culminated so magnificently in the wonderful technical triumphs of the present day.

A rather similar affirmation of God's presence is contained in Psalm 11:

In the Lord I take refuge. How can you say to me,
"Flee like a bird to the mountains:
for see, the wicked string their bows,
and fit the arrow to the bowstring,
to shoot from the darkness at honest folk"?

Here there is little to fear because the Psalmist's confidence is high. Being of considerable integrity he can trust the Almighty without reserve, and play his part alongside God in routing the designs of the wicked.

The Lord is in his holy temple;
the Lord's throne is in heaven.
His gaze is upon mankind,
his searching eye tests them.

The writer sees God weighing the just and the unjust, hating all those who inflict violence but loving just dealing and turning his face towards the upright. The assurance is distinctly warmer than in Psalm 27. The Psalmist may have recently been blessed with a victory over adverse circumstances, and so been able to accept more readily God's concern with the world.

When we know God we encounter love, for that is his nature. In love there is no room for fear; indeed perfect love banishes fear (1 John 4:18). We may learn about God by diligently studying the Bible, but in the end a true knowledge of the Lord does not follow a detailed reading of any written teaching. He is known best while we are constantly aware of the world around us in the present moment, for it is thus that we are in clear-cut relationship with the Deity. He gives us his essence while we open ourselves in trust to his divine providence and the service of all those around us.

There are two modalities of fear: an instinctive fear of the Creator and his inscrutable power and a fear of the circumstances of life itself. This usually shows itself more starkly in unpleasant situations, such as those we have read about in the two psalms. The fear that confronts us, as a nameless awe in the face of the terrible mystery of God, is slowly softened and warmed by the love which we know as we come closer to him in prayer and in humble service. Furthermore when we know the unconditional embrace of God's loving presence we are able to confront the world's dangers with a calm restraint, quite unlike the usual consternation of which we are only too well acquainted. All this of course is a slowly developing process, since we inhabit a very earthy physical body which flinches from any situation that might lead to its injury and possible destruction. And yet if we proceed with the assurance that is the fruit of answered prayer, the very heart of earnest faith, our body may learn intuitively of a life that reaches beyond the earth to glorious plains beyond. We may recall here Ezekiel's vision of a plain of dead bones that he resurrected to full life as an immense human army under the command of God (Ezek. 37:1-14).

It is a good practice to recite portions of the psalms when all is chaos around us. They have a remarkably cleansing effect on the inner side of the cup of life, so that finally the outer rim is also cleansed (Matt. 23:25-26). In other words, when we are inwardly renewed the process extends to the outer situation also.

A further side to the human response to fear in the light of God's eternal beneficence is contained in Psalm 56. Here the Psalmist bewails his present condition: trampled underfoot, harassed by his assailants and oppressed by his numerous enemies:

In my day of fear,
I put my trust in you, the Most High,
in God, whose promise is my boast,
in God I trust and shall not be afraid;
what can mortals do to me?

He then returns to his first theme, describing the malice of his foes, and this line of thought is succeeded by an inner assurance that God knows his grief. Therefore the Almighty should come speedily to his succour.

This I know, that God is on my side.
In God, whose promise is my boast . . .
in God I trust and shall not be afraid;
what can mortals do to me?

The psalm ends with the continued oscillation between articulated trust and a fear at the hostility of those close to the writer. The words of confidence seem to be a recitation aimed, albeit unconsciously, at raising the Psalmist's spirits during the time of anxiety when peril lurks at every corner. In a time of action doubt could be fatal; we have to do the right thing now even when we are far from sure what that right thing is. It is in this frame of mind that our constant awareness of God and our conversation with him can be of great help. One cannot but smile at the writer's belief that God is on his side. In times gone by it was easier to assign the divine assistance to one party more than another, depending, of course, on one's own loyalty and concern. We have had to learn by the bitter fruits of wars and lesser conflicts that God is on everybody's side - which is a more positive way of affirming the divine neutrality in human conflict. It is we who have to use the help given by God; the virtuous, by their life of simplicity and discipline, will be closer to that help than those who use it profligately. This seems to be the way in which conflicts are brought to a satisfactory conclusion.

If we can be quiet and commend ourselves to our Maker, albeit in quaking trust that seeks to override a more basic fear, he will be close to us and we may rest assured as we relax in his presence. So much is assured us in Psalm 91, one of the most famous psalms and a regular reading at compline. It is indeed good to retire to sleep with some of its sentences on our lips and in our mind.

He who lives in the shelter of the Most High,
who lodges under the shadow of the Almighty,
says of the Lord, "He is my refuge and fortress,
my God in whom I put my trust."

There is no savage attack by ferocious animals or the inroads of lethal diseases that need frighten the worshipper, for God will cover him with his wings, granting refuge under his pinions, while his truth will be a shield to ward off all evil assaults. No terror, whether plague or vicious assault, can come near him, despite the extermination of many people beside him. Indeed he will have the privilege of witnessing the retribution that is visited on the evildoer. One remembers the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness after his baptism and the full awakening of the Holy Spirit within him. In Luke 4:10-11 the devil quotes from this psalm to the effect that, if Jesus is really the Son of God, he should be able to throw himself down from the parapet of the Temple:

For he will charge his angels
to guard you wherever you go.
to lift you on their hands
for fear you strike your foot against a stone.

Jesus in turn makes the crucial quotation from Deuteronomy 6:16, to the effect that one must not put the Lord our God to the test, as did the Israelites at Massah (Exod. 17:1-7). The wonderful account of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness (Matt. 4:1-11 with the parallel record in Luke 4:1-13) gives an example of Scripture mischievously quoted and its correction by the more enlightened use of appropriate texts.

The psalm ends with a promise of deliverance from trouble because he loves his Lord and knows his name. This knowledge is one of intimate fellowship, not merely intellectual assent such as may conclude a theological debate. We remember that God gives us no name; "I am that I am" is what Moses is told, and he is to tell the Israelites that I am has sent him to them. But he is also the God of their forefathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (Exod. 3:14-15). In other words the Most High cannot be named, for if he were he could be controlled by his creatures. Our name defines and limits us, whereas God has no limitation and can be known only by his outflowing, uncreated energies, which are light and love.

It is noteworthy also that God promises his presence in time of trouble. The divine assistance does not exempt even the most devout saint from suffering, but it promises its support. The travail of Jesus at Gethsemane and on the cross at Calvary substantiates this truth, except that in his extremity Jesus felt completely bereft of his Father's presence as he cried aloud the first verse of Psalm 22. But he was nevertheless sustained; as we read in Hebrews 5:7-10, in the course of his life on earth he offered up prayers and petitions, with great wailing, to God who alone was able to deliver him from death. His devotion ensured that his prayer was heard; though he was Son, he had to learn obedience through his travail, and, once perfected for the work he had to do, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. He was now qualified to bear the mysterious eternal priesthood of the order of Melchizedek.

In an infinitely smaller way this is our destiny also as we pass through the shadowland of fear.

When he calls to me, I shall answer;
I shall be with him in time of trouble;
I shall rescue him and bring him to honour,
I shall satisfy him with long life
and show him my salvation.

These thoughts finally bring us to another favourite psalm, small in size but massive in content. The opening lines of Psalm 23 need no introduction:

The Lord is my shepherd; I lack for nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me to water where I may rest;
he revives my spirit;
for his name's sake he guides me in the right paths.

The image of the good shepherd, first completely outlined in Ezekiel 34:11-16 and authoritatively fulfilled in the person of Christ (John 10:1-18), is beautifully revealed here; the Psalmist goes on to affirm God's unceasing presence even if he were to walk through an impenetrably dark valley. This presence is no mere cipher, but, to quote Isaiah 40:29:

He gives vigour to the weary,
new strength to the exhausted.

The basis of this help lies in the second image contained in the psalm, that of the host at the heavenly banquet:

You spread a table for me in the presence of my
enemies; you have richly anointed my head with oil,
and my cup brims over.

In God's care we are filled with heavenly strength; our enemies could be likewise filled, but they have chosen to rely on their own resources. It is important to affirm that the Creator loves all his creatures equally, because this is the very nature of love; or as Peter was told in the matter of his baptism of the gentile centurion Cornelius, God has no favourites (Acts 10:34). It would indeed be a sorry day if our Lord bestowed his generosity on only a small elite who were saved, while all the others went away empty. But until one is humble, freed from all self-assertiveness, one cannot partake of the food on the heavenly table. This consists of love in its various earthly forms that are ultimately to be resurrected to the life eternal in the form of the great lover, whom Christians see in the person of Jesus Christ.

The situation is completely revealed in the occasion and the words of the Magnificat (Luke 1:53):

He has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.

And so the Psalmist can be sure of goodness and unfailing love all the days of his life, while dwelling unassailably in God's house. This house can be seen in a triple mode of private dwelling, the Church, and the whole created universe. How then should we behave when we are afraid, when fear gnaws at the very roots of our existence? We should not be ashamed to admit our fears, trying as much as possible to get to their basis on a rational level. And then we should, like the Psalmist, offer them up to God in silent prayer. There is encouragement in Psalm 37:25:

I have been young and now have grown old,
but never have I seen the righteous forsaken
or their children begging bread.

In the short term this dictum is often disproved, but if we are patient and never cease to put our trust in God, we shall ultimately know victory. The writers of the psalms experienced similar emotions to ours, hence the long-lasting value of these pieces of religious poetry to us, even 2,500 to 3,000 years later. If we can proceed to settle down in the depth of the soul, seen anatomically as the centre of the abdomen and radiating to the heart, we shall learn of an inner strength that accompanies us through all the trials of life. And then the complete assurance of God's presence and assistance in Psalms 23 and 91 will become something more than picturesque poetry. And thus we may proceed on our life's journey with emotions alternating from those of Psalm 27 and Psalm 56 to the greater and more positive assertions and affirmations of Psalm 11.

Life is a fluctuating affair; as in Psalm 27, we must expect periods of anxiety to follow joyful moods of elation at the sheer splendour of existence. But if we hold on, the cloud of fear will eventually lift and reveal a heavenly landscape in which a general harmony is able to comprehend all dissonant elements. These too play their part in the vast tapestry of life.