This is precisely why I find it perilous to detach these terms from the broader context of the King’s perspective on life. I’ve had my share of disagreements with individuals regarding the characterization of the wicked man in the Psalms. Was the Psalmist referencing a military adversary or a condemned individual residing within the city of Zion? These terms come alive when viewed through the lens of a conquest motif, which energizes the Psalms and their messages. It is imperative that we comprehend the notion that God communicates peace through might, rather than through a passive form of redemption. This waiting involves a tangible redemption that unfolds in time. It stands in stark contrast to the wicked man, who relies solely on his own strength to secure peace, paying for it with the resources he possesses. The wicked man’s approach is aggressive; he attacks the vulnerable because he does not wait, choosing instead to advance through deceitful words and corrupted thinking. He arrogantly proclaims in his heart that he will never be shaken! This attitude sharply contrasts with that of the righteous man, who patiently waits for God to intervene. Owen possesses a thought-provoking book focused on the concept of sin, and it was, in fact, one of the pivotal influences that led me to embark on the ambitious journey of memorizing the entire book of Psalms. Within its pages, I encountered various frustrating and perplexing concepts that I felt compelled to resolve within my own mind. The more I delved into the text, the more I found myself grappling with ideas that seemed to clash with my understanding of the gospel. I can’t help but chuckle at the fact that I’m now willing to embrace the label of “antinomian,” a term that my spell-check doesn’t even recognize as legitimate. It’s amusing, yet it underscores the disconnect I feel. As I engage in discussions with various leaders on these matters, it has become glaringly clear that my interpretation of the gospel is often met with rejection. This situation exemplifies the extent of our contemporary spiritual decline. Here I am, diligently memorizing and meditating on the Psalter, and yet I find myself being accused of being a reprobate. It's utterly bewildering! Owen articulates a compelling notion about waiting for forgiveness, which he frames through the lens of spoken peace. However, I can’t help but feel that this perspective strays dangerously close to Arminianism. I recognize mysticism when I see it described, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I firmly believe that full forgiveness is a gift that a covenant child enjoys as a result of their regeneration. In our union with Christ, we are fully identified with Him. Yet, despite this profound truth, we often fail to experience the complete peace that accompanies our forgiveness. I believe this is where the Psalmist directs our attention. He captures the essence of the human experience, particularly as we strive to apply the gospel to every aspect of our inner lives. The emotional and spiritual highs and lows we encounter create a kind of metaphysical rollercoaster, and the Psalmist expresses a deep concern that we should apply the gospel holistically. Doing so enables us to act in a manner that cultivates a secure and stable mindset. Consequently, the act of waiting in the Psalms is akin to engaging in a fight. I do not believe we are waiting for any form of grace that we have not already received through our union with Christ. Instead, our challenge lies in how we perceive and adapt to our current circumstances. The Psalms are thus designed to impart a wisdom that God promises, rooted in a realistic understanding of our lives. This wisdom grants us spiritual boldness that stems from correctly applying the doctrines of grace, rather than waiting for them to instill confidence within us! While we revel in the joy of forgiveness, we also seek a dominant peace as we navigate this spiritual battle. The most profound moments in our lives tend to emerge when we find ourselves quieted by a sense of desperation, prompting us to call upon God. This, I believe, encapsulates the true paradigm of waiting—an active engagement in our relationship with the divine, characterized by trust and anticipation. When we speak of waiting for forgiveness, we are akin to watchmen who vigilantly guard the city from those who would seek to scale its walls and harm its inhabitants. The primary means of defense for the King lies in the watchman’s role. Just as a shepherd tends to his sheep, this shepherd is both king and warrior, his protective gaze channeled through the watchman.