When Life Feels Like You’re Surrounded by Liars
What’s Psalm 120 about?
This is the desperate prayer of someone who’s had it up to here with dishonest people and feels completely surrounded by conflict. It’s the opening song of a collection that was meant to be sung by pilgrims heading to Jerusalem, but it starts in a pretty dark place – which makes perfect sense when you think about it.
The Full Context
Psalm 120 kicks off what scholars call the “Songs of Ascents” – a collection of fifteen psalms (Psalms 120-134) that Jewish pilgrims would sing as they made their way up to Jerusalem for the major festivals. Picture thousands of families walking dusty roads, kids complaining, donkeys loaded with supplies, everyone anticipating the celebration ahead. But this first song? It’s not exactly upbeat travel music.
The psalm captures something universal about spiritual journeys – they often begin not with joy, but with desperation. The writer (tradition says David, though we can’t be certain) is stuck in a hostile environment, surrounded by people whose words can’t be trusted and who seem to love conflict. It’s the kind of situation that makes you want to pack up and leave for somewhere – anywhere – more peaceful. The literary genius here is that this psalm functions as both a personal lament and the perfect starting point for a pilgrimage. Sometimes the journey toward God begins exactly when life becomes unbearable where you are.
What the Ancient Words Tell Us
The Hebrew word that opens this psalm is qara – “I called” or “I cried out.” But this isn’t a casual phone call to heaven. This is the same word used when someone is drowning and screaming for help, or when a woman is in labor. It’s emergency prayer, the kind that comes from your gut when you’re desperate.
Grammar Geeks
The phrase “lying lips” in verse 2 uses the Hebrew saphah sheqer, where sheqer doesn’t just mean “false” but carries the idea of something that’s fundamentally deceptive and destructive. It’s the kind of lie that doesn’t just misinform – it damages relationships and communities.
When the psalmist mentions living among the “tents of Kedar” and “dwelling with Meshech,” he’s using geographical shorthand that his original audience would have immediately understood. Kedar was associated with Bedouin tribes known for their warrior culture, while Meshech was a distant, barbaric region to the north. Basically, he’s saying “I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with people who live for conflict.”
The repetition of “too long” in verse 6 is particularly powerful in Hebrew. The phrase rab-lah literally means “much to her” – as in, my soul has had much too much of this situation. It’s the Hebrew equivalent of “I’m done. I’ve had enough. This has gone on way too long.”
What Would the Original Audience Have Heard?
Picture a Jewish family in the time of the Second Temple, maybe around 400 BC, preparing for Passover. They’ve saved up all year for this trip to Jerusalem. Dad’s been dealing with dishonest business partners, Mom’s been navigating neighborhood gossip, and they both feel like they’re constantly having to defend themselves against people who twist their words.
As they begin their journey, someone starts singing Psalm 120, and suddenly everyone on the road is nodding along. “Yes! That’s exactly how I feel!” The beauty of starting the pilgrimage songs with this psalm is that it acknowledges the real reason many people head to Jerusalem – not because life is great, but because life is hard and they need to connect with something bigger than their current circumstances.
Did You Know?
Archaeological evidence shows that during major festivals, the population of Jerusalem could swell from about 20,000 to over 100,000 people. These pilgrimage songs weren’t just individual prayers – they were community anthems that helped bind together people from all over the known world who shared similar struggles.
The original hearers would have also caught the wordplay that’s almost impossible to translate into English. The word for “peace” (shalom) in verse 7 sounds similar to “Salem,” the ancient name for Jerusalem. So when the psalmist says “I am for peace,” he’s subtly pointing toward Jerusalem as the place where true peace can be found.
Wrestling with the Text
Here’s something that strikes me as genuinely puzzling: why does this psalm feel so modern? The complaints about lying lips, deceitful tongues, and people who love conflict – doesn’t that sound like it could have been written about social media culture? Or workplace politics? Or family dynamics that never seem to get resolved?
But maybe that’s exactly the point. The human condition hasn’t changed much in 2,500 years. We still struggle with dishonest people. We still find ourselves in environments where conflict seems to be the default mode. We still reach that breaking point where we cry out, “I’ve had enough!”
Wait, That’s Strange…
Notice that the psalmist never actually tells us what these lying lips have said about him or what specific conflicts he’s facing. It’s almost like the details don’t matter – it’s the pattern of living in a hostile environment that’s the real issue. Sometimes the most powerful prayers are the ones that capture feelings rather than facts.
The progression in this psalm is also worth wrestling with. It moves from personal distress (verses 1-2) to specific complaints (verses 3-4) to a broader lament about his environment (verses 5-7). It’s like watching someone zoom out from their immediate problem to realize they’re dealing with a systemic issue – they’re in the wrong place with the wrong people.
How This Changes Everything
What I find transformative about Psalm 120 is how it reframes the spiritual journey. Most of us have been taught that faith should make us feel better, that prayer should lead to immediate peace, that following God means our circumstances improve. But this psalm suggests something different: sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit that where you are right now is unbearable.
The genius of placing this as the first “Song of Ascents” is that it gives permission to start your journey to God from a place of frustration and exhaustion. You don’t have to pretend everything is fine. You don’t have to manufacture gratitude for toxic relationships or hostile environments. You can begin with “God, I’m surrounded by liars and I can’t take it anymore.”
“Sometimes the journey toward God begins exactly when life becomes unbearable where you are.”
But notice what the psalmist doesn’t do. He doesn’t plot revenge against the lying lips. He doesn’t strategize about how to win the conflicts he’s facing. Instead, he turns his attention toward something else – toward peace, toward a different kind of community, toward a place where his values align with the values around him.
This psalm teaches us that recognizing you’re in the wrong environment isn’t pessimism – it’s wisdom. And crying out to God about it isn’t complaining – it’s the first step toward finding where you actually belong.
Key Takeaway
When you’re surrounded by dishonesty and conflict, the most spiritual thing you can do might be to admit you’ve had enough and start looking for a community that shares your values. Sometimes faith isn’t about blooming where you’re planted – it’s about having the courage to journey toward where you can actually grow.
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