Psalm 120 Chapter Study

Psalm 120 opens the Songs of Ascents with a cry from a pilgrim surrounded by lies and longing for peace. “I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me,” the singer says, then pleads to be delivered “from lying lips and from deceitful tongues” (Psalm 120:1–2). The trouble is not a nameless anxiety; it is the wound that false words inflict on a community and a soul. The poem names judgment for deceit, laments life among hostile neighbors, and ends with the ache that even when the speaker seeks shalom, others keep reaching for war (Psalm 120:3–7). The first step of this ascent is honest prayer, because worshipers cannot climb toward Zion with pretense in their mouths.

The psalm also sets the tone for the journey ahead. Fifteen songs carry travelers from far places toward the place God chose for His name, and the first note is realism about the cost of living among people who twist words and savor conflict (Psalms 120–134; Deuteronomy 12:5). The pilgrim confesses God’s faithfulness to hear and warns that He will judge a tongue that refuses truth, using images of arrows and broom-bush coals to portray justice that is sharp and purifying (Psalm 120:3–4). The rest of the collection will move through help, security, family, work, blessing, and unity, but the opening piece teaches a necessary reflex: pray honestly, love peace, and entrust vindication to the Lord who answers (Psalm 121:1–2; Psalm 122:6–9).

Words: 2787 / Time to read: 15 minutes

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Historical and Cultural Background

The title “A song of ascents” points to pilgrim worship. Groups journeyed up to Jerusalem for appointed feasts, singing words that steadied steps and aligned hearts to the God who dwelt among His people (Psalm 120:1; Deuteronomy 16:16). These songs did more than pass the time; they formed character. The first ascent begins in a place of tension to acknowledge where many journeys start: a home or workplace thick with slander, a neighborhood allergic to peace, a season where truth seems fragile. The singer does not varnish the setting. He calls out, and the Lord answers because He is near to the brokenhearted and attentive to those who fear His name (Psalm 120:1; Psalm 34:17–18).

The references to Meshek and Kedar intensify the sense of distance. Meshek was associated with peoples far to the north, while Kedar named nomadic tribes to the southeast; together they function as a way of saying, “I live far from home among those unlike me” (Psalm 120:5; Ezekiel 27:13; Isaiah 21:16–17). The vocabulary of tents and long residence suggests more than a short, unpleasant stay. The pilgrim has been in this climate “too long,” a complaint many exiles have shared when they seek the peace of a city that does not love the God who made it (Psalm 120:6; Jeremiah 29:7). In Israel’s calendar, feasts drew such scattered lives back to the temple, where truth was taught and peace was prayed for in the city of peace, Jerusalem (Psalm 122:6–9).

The image of the “broom bush” adds texture to the threat. The desert broom tree produced coals known for their intense, enduring heat, making it a fitting picture for consequences that last rather than flash and fade (Psalm 120:4). Paired with “warrior’s sharp arrows,” the metaphor insists that deceit is not a small sin; God’s justice will answer it with precision and weight. This is consistent with Israel’s law, which required false witnesses to bear the penalty they tried to bring on others, and with wisdom that lists a lying tongue among the things the Lord hates (Deuteronomy 19:16–19; Proverbs 6:16–19). Words are never neutral tools in Scripture; they heal or harm, build or burn (Proverbs 12:18; Psalm 55:21).

The poem’s closing couplet locates the singer on the moral map. He is “for peace,” echoing Israel’s broader calling to seek peace and pursue it, yet he lives among people who choose conflict as their first language (Psalm 120:7; Psalm 34:14). That tension belongs to Israel’s story and, by extension, to anyone who follows the Lord in a world where adversaries mock, rulers slander, and neighbors prefer strife (Psalm 119:23; 1 Peter 4:3–5). The ascent begins not with denial but with lament and trust, training worshipers to bring hard facts into the presence of the God of truth (Isaiah 65:16; Psalm 43:3).

Biblical Narrative

The psalm’s movement is simple and strong. It begins with testimony: “I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me” (Psalm 120:1). That pairing—cry and answer—anchors many prayers in Israel’s songbook, where the faithful name their trouble and recall that the Lord hears all who call on Him in truth (Psalm 4:1; Psalm 145:18–19). The distress here is specific. Lying lips and deceitful tongues have cut the singer, and he asks for rescue that stops the injury at its source (Psalm 120:2). The prayer turns on God’s name and character, because He loves truth in the inner being and hates a tongue that spreads falsehood (Psalm 51:6; Proverbs 6:17).

A sharp question follows: “What will he do to you, and what more besides, you deceitful tongue?” The answer imagines judgment that fits the crime—arrows from a warrior and burning coals from the broom bush (Psalm 120:3–4). Scripture often describes divine justice in such concrete terms, making the moral order visible to the imagination. Those who wound with words should expect to be pierced by truth; those who burn reputations should expect a heat they cannot command (Psalm 7:12–16; Psalm 64:7–8). The metaphors are not invitations to personal revenge; they are assurances that the Lord sees and will act (Romans 12:19; Psalm 35:1).

A lament about location widens the lens. The singer cries “Woe to me” for dwelling in Meshek and living among the tents of Kedar, a pair that spans far-flung directions and cultures but shares hostility to peace (Psalm 120:5–6). The complaint that it has gone on “too long” carries the ache of waiting, a feeling many psalms voice when rescue delays and evil feels unembarrassed (Psalm 13:1–2; Psalm 94:3–4). The geography may be literal exile or poetic distance; in either case the point is clear: the pilgrim’s values are out of step with the surrounding climate, and his soul feels it.

The final line distills the conflict into a single exchange. The singer is for peace; when he speaks, they are for war (Psalm 120:7). Words designed to reconcile are met with escalations that threaten to rupture. The psalm does not stage a debate where each side gets equal time; it lets the worshiper bring the frustration into God’s presence. The ascent will continue toward a city commanded to pray for peace, but the first song lets the dissonance be heard so that the prayer for shalom will not be a slogan but a necessity (Psalm 122:6–8; Psalm 85:8–10).

Theological Significance

Psalm 120 teaches that God is the refuge of those wounded by lies. The first verse’s testimony—“he answers me”—is the bedrock under every petition that follows (Psalm 120:1). The God of Jacob hears, and He hears not as a passive listener but as a judge who loves truth and upholds the cause of the needy against slanderers (Psalm 140:12; Psalm 31:18). In a world where falsehood often travels faster than correction, the believer’s first response is not the frantic crafting of counter-narratives but the act of prayer that hands the matter to the Lord who sees all and misses nothing (Psalm 139:1–4; 1 Peter 5:7).

The psalm exposes the moral weight of speech. Lying lips and deceitful tongues are not inconveniences; they are weapons that God promises to answer with His own (Psalm 120:2–4). Under the administration given through Moses, false witness undermined justice and was punished in kind so that evil would be purged from the community (Deuteronomy 19:16–19). Wisdom literature sings the same warning: life and death are in the power of the tongue; rash words pierce like a sword; a lying tongue lasts only a moment, but truth stands forever (Proverbs 18:21; Proverbs 12:18–19). In the era of the Spirit, the Lord brings this ethic into the heart, teaching His people to put off falsehood, to speak truthfully to neighbors, and to let words be gracious and seasoned with salt so that speech heals rather than harms (Ephesians 4:25; Colossians 4:6).

The imagery of arrows and coals proclaims that God will vindicate truth. Arrows suggest the precision of His judgments; broom-bush coals suggest their sustaining force (Psalm 120:4). Other psalms picture the Lord bending His bow against the wicked and turning their own arrows back on them, a recurring assurance that evil is not the final author of the story (Psalm 7:12–13; Psalm 64:7–8). Believers can therefore renounce personal vengeance and entrust themselves to Him who judges justly, refusing to repay insult with insult and leaving room for God’s wrath rightly administered (1 Peter 2:23; Romans 12:19–21). Such trust does not forbid lawful appeal to courts or wise self-defense; it forbids the soul from seizing the Judge’s seat.

The pilgrim’s complaint about Meshek and Kedar names the experience of holy dislocation. He feels like a stranger in a land whose language is conflict (Psalm 120:5–6). Israel knew literal exile when the land was lost and the temple destroyed, yet even before that they were taught to see themselves as pilgrims who sought a city whose maker is God (Psalm 39:12; Hebrews 11:13–16). The church inherits that sojourner identity, living honorably among the nations while refusing to adopt the age’s loves and lies (1 Peter 2:11–12; Romans 12:2). The songs of ascent guide this pilgrim life by tying daily steps to weekly worship and yearly feasts, until truth becomes sturdy enough to carry into hostile settings (Psalm 84:5–7; Psalm 122:1).

A thread of God’s unfolding plan runs through the psalm’s last line. The singer is for peace; the neighbors are for war (Psalm 120:7). Israel’s calling involved the pursuit of shalom under God’s rule and the hope that nations would come to learn His ways in Zion, where swords would become plowshares and spears pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:2–4; Micah 4:1–4). That hope did not evaporate when the pilgrim felt outnumbered; it sent him upward to pray. In the fullness of time, the Prince of Peace came, faced false witnesses, and made peace by the blood of His cross, creating one new people and reconciling enemies to God (Matthew 26:59–60; Colossians 1:20; Ephesians 2:14–18). The present church tastes this peace now while waiting for the future fullness when the King returns and war schools close for good (Hebrews 6:5; Revelation 21:3–4).

Truthfulness moves from statute to Spirit in the storyline of Scripture. The law forbade false witness and commanded honesty in speech and trade because God is true and just (Exodus 20:16; Leviticus 19:11). Prophets promised a day when God’s ways would be written on hearts, enabling obedience from the inside, not merely from external pressure (Jeremiah 31:33; Ezekiel 36:26–27). In the present gift, the Spirit forms a people who put away deceit, speak the truth in love, and refuse the corrosive talk that tears down churches and cities alike (Ephesians 4:15; Ephesians 4:29). The pilgrim who prays Psalm 120 stands in that arc, asking the God of truth to align lips, loves, and life.

The psalm also suggests how to hold identity without bitterness. The speaker does not say, “I am against them”; he says, “I am for peace” (Psalm 120:7). That stance mirrors the wisdom of seeking the welfare of the city even when the city is not gentle, and it anticipates the Christ who blessed peacemakers and called His people to pray for persecutors (Jeremiah 29:7; Matthew 5:9; Matthew 5:44). Being for peace does not mean surrendering truth. It means bringing truth into rooms with a tone shaped by the God who is slow to anger and abounding in love, refusing to mirror the rage that surrounds us (Exodus 34:6; Romans 12:18).

Finally, Psalm 120 positions prayer as the start of change. The ascent begins on the kneeling floor, not the battlement. God’s answer is the true turning point, whether He quiets enemies, exposes lies, grants endurance, or moves the pilgrim along to a safer gate (Psalm 120:1; Psalm 121:7–8). The life of faith then alternates between lament and praise, petition and thanksgiving, as worshipers learn to process conflict in God’s presence and keep stepping toward the city where peace is not a rumor but a culture (Psalm 116:1–2; Psalm 122:6–9).

Spiritual Lessons and Application

Honest prayer beats hurried self-defense. When slander stings or online clamor spins, Psalm 120 teaches the first move: call on the Lord, name the deceit, and ask for rescue without embellishment (Psalm 120:1–2; Psalm 55:22). The habit of immediate prayer guards from revenge fantasies and from the corrosive desire to manage outcomes by any means. God invites such cries and answers in ways that quiet, expose, or redirect, fitting help to the moment while teaching hearts to trust (Psalm 50:15; Philippians 4:6–7).

Commit to truth in both content and tone. The Lord hates a lying tongue, and He also weighs how we speak, commending words that build rather than corrode (Proverbs 6:16–17; Ephesians 4:29). When accusations come, answer plainly and briefly, entrusting the rest to God; when tempted to pass on rumors, stop the chain and choose the narrow way of verified speech (Proverbs 26:20; Colossians 3:9–10). A pilgrim life among Meshek and Kedar requires tongues trained for blessing and hands trained for patient good (Psalm 34:13–14; 1 Peter 3:15–16).

Live as a peacemaker without naivety. Being “for peace” is not passivity; it is a posture that aims for reconciliation while acknowledging some prefer war (Psalm 120:7; Romans 12:18). In practice, this looks like clear boundaries that refuse to enable harm, appeals to lawful authority when needed, and initiatives that seek mutual good when possible (Proverbs 25:15; Acts 25:10–11). The church embodies this calling by praying for cities, welcoming strangers, and refusing to let tribal hatreds colonize the heart (1 Timothy 2:1–2; Ephesians 2:19–22).

Keep the pilgrim rhythm that Psalm 120 initiates. Weekly worship and steady Scripture meditation recalibrate souls that live “too long” in contentious places, reminding us that the Lord keeps our life and that His blessing rests on those who seek the peace of His city (Psalm 120:6; Psalm 121:7–8; Psalm 128:5–6). The Songs of Ascents become a road-liturgy for modern travelers who need help for the next hill and courage for the next conversation. Over time the reflex to pray first, speak truth, and pursue peace becomes the normal gait of those who walk with God (Psalm 84:5–7; Psalm 119:105).

Conclusion

Psalm 120 begins the ascent by pulling no punches about life in a world that loves conflict and plays fast with truth. The singer calls; the Lord answers; deceit is named; justice is promised; distance from home is lamented; allegiance to peace is stated even when listeners prefer war (Psalm 120:1–7). The simplicity of the structure hides a deep wisdom. This is how travelers of faith begin: they refuse denial, they refuse revenge, and they refuse to let the surrounding culture dictate their speech or their hopes. They carry their wounds to the God who hears and ask Him to do what only He can—expose lies, guard hearts, and keep the feet of His servants.

The rest of the ascent will widen the view toward help from the Maker of heaven and earth, the joy of worship in Jerusalem, and the blessing that settles on households that fear the Lord (Psalm 121:2; Psalm 122:1; Psalm 128:1–4). Yet the first step remains essential for every generation. In the age of the Messiah, peacemakers are called blessed and invited to share in the ministry of reconciliation, tasting even now the peace He secured and waiting for the day it fills the earth (Matthew 5:9; 2 Corinthians 5:18–20; Isaiah 2:4). Until then, the pilgrim prayer of Psalm 120 stays on our lips: save us from lying lips; make us people of truth and peace; keep us walking toward the city that bears Your name.

“Too long have I lived
among those who hate peace.
I am for peace;
but when I speak, they are for war.” (Psalm 120:6–7)