Psalms 10

Psalms 10 — Commentary and Meaning

The short answer

Psalm 10 opens with one of the rawest questions in the Bible: "Why do you stand far off, Yahweh?" The psalmist looks at a world where the powerful hunt the poor, boast about their appetites, and get away with it — and asks why God seems to be hiding exactly when help is needed most.

The psalm's real drama happens inside the head of the wicked person. Three times we're told what he says "in his heart": nothing will shake him, God has forgotten, God will never see. And in verse 4, his whole outlook is summed up in the claim that "There is no God." This is not atheism in the modern sense. Patrick Miller points out that the Hebrew phrase works the way "there is no money" does — it doesn't deny that money exists; it means the speaker doesn't have any. So the wicked man isn't arguing philosophy. He's rendering a practical verdict: God is not here, not present, not paying attention. That verdict is what frees him to prey on the vulnerable without fear.

Walter Brueggemann helps us see the social landscape underneath. The poor in this psalm have no other options, so they keep trusting that God hears and acts. The powerful, meanwhile, have concluded that such prayer is nonsense. Psalm 10 is a contest between those two convictions, prayed from the losing side.

The turn comes in verse 12: "Arise, Yahweh! God, lift up your hand!" The psalmist answers the boast of the wicked with a counterclaim — "But you do see trouble and grief" (v. 14) — and ends confident that God hears the desire of the humble and will bring justice for the fatherless and the oppressed. The question of verse 1 isn't fully resolved. It's answered by continuing to pray.

Miller answers the question of what the wicked actually mean by "There is no God" in verse 4, showing from parallel Hebrew expressions that the phrase declares God's absence rather than God's nonexistence. Brueggemann then reads the psalm as a kind of social map: the vulnerable poor keep trusting that God hears and acts, while the powerful have decided such prayer is foolish.

“Several times in Psalm 10, one of the powerful complaint psalms of the Psalter, we hear what the wicked/enemy/fool really believes in the heart (vv. 6, 11, 13). We shall come back to these, but first a look at the basic conviction of the fool = wicked. “There is no god” is not a philosophical or ontological statement. Thus ʾēn ʾĕlōhîm means simply God is not present, God is not here (10:4). When we read that “Sarah was barren” ( ʾēn lāh wālād , Gen. 11:30), the text simply tells us she had no child. Children were abundant, but not with Sarah. Similarly, ʾēn kesep means “There is no money,” but the point is that the speaker doesn’t have any.”

Patrick D. Miller · Charles T. Haley Professor Emeritus of Old Testament Theology, Princeton Theological Seminary, The Lord of the Psalms Westminster John Knox Press. All rights reserved. More from Miller in Rebind →

“Psalm 10 can be viewed as a map of social power in which the vulnerable poor, who have no alternative course of action, continue to trust in God’s readiness to hear, answer, and act. By contrast, the powerful have no problem concluding that all such prayer is foolishness. It is not hard to imagine that it is precisely the poor of Psalm 10 who might pray Psalm 88 at night, every day, in the morning, especially in the face of the powerful.”

Walter Brueggemann; Brent A. Strawn (ed.), From Whom No Secrets Are Hid Westminster John Knox Press. All rights reserved. More from (ed.) in Rebind →

Psalm 10 gives you permission to say what you may already feel: that God seems far away while cruelty prospers. It also asks you to notice which side of the psalm you're praying from. When life is comfortable, it's easy to live as if God isn't watching — not by denying God exists, but by acting as though God isn't relevant to how we treat people. The psalm invites the opposite wager: to keep addressing God honestly, especially about injustice, trusting that God sees trouble and grief even when nothing visible confirms it. Prayer here isn't polite; it's protest that refuses to give up on God's presence.

In the Hebrew tradition, Psalms 9 and 10 form a pair — Psalm 10 has no title of its own, and together the two psalms trace an alphabetical pattern, moving from thanksgiving for God's justice (Psalm 9) into urgent complaint that justice is delayed (Psalm 10). Psalm 10 sits early in Book I of the Psalter, among prayers attributed to David that alternate between trust and trouble. Its cry of "Why?" anticipates later laments like Psalms 13 and 22, and its concern for the fatherless and oppressed echoes throughout the whole book.