Psalm 80 is a song written by people whose world had collapsed - and it was their own fault. Josh Edmundson unpacks why that matters. The psalmist doesn't ignore the mess, doesn't pretend he's fine, and doesn't rush to fix it. He names the grief and takes it straight to God, anger and all. It's a working model for lament, and it ends somewhere unexpected - every image in the psalm, the vine and the son and the prayer for God's face to shine, turns up again in Jesus.
01Talk notes
There's a particular kind of pain that comes with knowing the mess is partly yours. Anyone can grieve a thing that just happened to them. It's much harder to grieve a thing you helped break - the relationship you let rot, the job you walked away from, the future you were so sure about that quietly stopped being possible. Most of us go quiet at that point. It feels like we've forfeited the right to complain.
Josh Edmundson opened this week's talk on Psalm 80, and it turns out this exact problem is sitting in the middle of the Bible's songbook. Psalm 80 is a cry for help from people whose nation is in ruins - and it is their own fault. They knew it. They wrote a song about it anyway, and the song is angry, and it's addressed straight to God. Which raises an obvious question. If they were allowed to do that, what does that mean for the rest of us?
02The problem with going quiet
The usual advice, when we've made a mess, is some version of keep your head down and sort it out. Be positive. Don't make a scene. Certainly don't take your anger to God - He's the one you let down.
That advice sounds humble. It's actually just hiding.
Psalm 80 does the opposite. It opens at the darkest possible moment and refuses to be polite about it. "How long, Lord God Almighty, will Your anger smoulder against the prayers of Your people? You have fed them with the bread of tears; You have made them drink tears by the bowlful." That is not a tidy prayer. That is a complaint, delivered upward, with the volume on.
And the psalmist isn't confused about whose fault it is. As Josh put it, what the writer sees in front of him is a consequence of his own people's actions. He knows. He asks anyway.
03Why the vine matters
Most of Psalm 80 is a picture - a vine. God pulled it out of Egypt, cleared the ground, planted it, and it grew until its branches reached the sea. Then the walls came down, and anyone passing by started helping themselves to the grapes.
Josh spent a good chunk of the talk on why that picture lands so hard, and it's worth following, because it's the difference between reading Psalm 80 as a sad poem and reading it as a legal argument.
The vine is Israel. Three moments set it up:
- God calls Israel His firstborn son. Before the Exodus even starts, God tells Moses how He sees these people. Not as a project. As a son.
- God makes a covenant with them. A mutually binding agreement - He will be their God, they will be His people, set apart from every other nation.
- God moves in. At the end of Exodus, the glory of the Lord fills the tabernacle. For the first time since the fall, God's presence lives among people.
Firstborn son. Binding promise. God in the room. Then centuries pass, the kingdom splits, the people decide they'd rather be like everyone else, and the northern kingdom is wiped off the map by Assyria.
So when the psalmist writes about a vine that God planted with His own hand and then left to burn, he is not being poetic for the sake of it. He is reminding God of what God said. He's holding up the promises like receipts.
"When I read this, I see promises strewn about like corpses, when the presence of God is seemingly nowhere to be found." - Josh Edmundson
04The working model
Here's where the talk turns from history to something you can actually use. Josh pointed out that the psalmist does three things - and it's what he doesn't do that's most striking.
He doesn't ignore it. No pretending the kingdom is fine. No spiritual bypassing.
He doesn't do the stiff upper lip. He doesn't decide that a good believer copes quietly. He names the sorrow as sorrow.
He doesn't rush to fix it. This is the one most of us skip. The instinct when something breaks is to get straight into problem-solving mode, because doing something feels better than feeling something. He doesn't. He sits in it long enough to tell the truth about it.
Then he takes the whole lot to God.
The Bible has a word for this, and it's not a word most of us use. It's lament. Josh described it as the act of bringing our grief at a broken situation before the King - giving it to Him, and asking for His presence in it and in spite of it. Not a fixed problem. A shared one.
05The bit that should be impossible
This is the part Josh flagged as genuinely strange, and he's right.
Who is this man to march into the throne room of heaven, express sorrow and anger at the King, ask questions that sound like demands, and request an intervention in a disaster his own people caused?
By any normal logic, that's the one person who shouldn't get an audience.
But look at what the New Testament actually says about this. Not you may, if you must, approach quietly. It's: let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16).
Confidence. Not on the basis of a clean record - nobody has one - but because of who He is.
That's why the honest version of this talk isn't "God will forgive you if you grovel". It's closer to: you were never asked to arrive tidy. The invitation stands while you're still angry, still confused, still holding the thing you broke.
06What lament actually asks of you
It would be misleading to make this sound easy. Josh was clear that it isn't.
Lament requires us to sit with the fact that our heart is broken and we don't have an answer for it. It requires being honest with God - telling Him exactly what we think and how we feel, which is harder than it sounds when you've spent years editing your prayers. And it ends somewhere uncomfortable: admitting that we don't fully understand Him or His ways, and that we need Him regardless.
That last bit is the whole thing, really. Lament isn't a technique for feeling better. It's what honesty looks like when you take it to God instead of away from Him.
07We don't lament without a vine
The last move of the talk is the one that reframes everything before it.
Every image in Psalm 80 - the vine, the son, the plea to restore what was planted, the cry to raise up the son of man - turns up again in the life of Jesus. He called Himself the true vine. He called Himself the Son of Man. Through His death and resurrection He kept the covenant that had been broken and made a new one, this time open to anyone.
And that prayer the psalmist repeats three times, make Your face shine on us, that we may be saved? Josh pointed to the Transfiguration, where Matthew records the disciples looking at Jesus' face shining with glory. Arguably the first time in human history that particular prayer got a literal answer.
So the psalmist wrote his lament into what looked like an empty room. Centuries later it turns out the answer was already on its way - not word for word, but bigger.
Which means when we bring our own wreckage to God, we're not shouting into nothing either.
08Try this week
Josh closed with one challenge, and it's deliberately small:
- Pick one thing. Not everything. One piece of brokenness, despair, sadness or sorrow you're currently carrying.
- Say it out loud to God, unedited. Including the angry part. Including the part where it's your fault. The psalmist didn't soften either.
- Don't rush to the fix. Resist the urge to tack a tidy resolution on the end. Lament doesn't require a bow on top.
- Ask for His presence, not just a solution. That's the actual request in Psalm 80 - not "sort this out" but "come back, and let us see Your face".
- Then brace yourself. Josh's word, not ours. Falling on the comfort and mercy of a gracious God tends not to leave people where it found them.
If you're reading this and the honest answer is I stopped talking to God about this ages ago because I didn't think I had the right - that's exactly the person Psalm 80 was written by.
What's the one thing you've been carrying on your own because you thought you'd forfeited the right to bring it up?
Watch or listen to the full talk at crowd.church. Crowd Church is an online community for people who might not see the point of church - real struggles, honest questions, everyone welcome.
Topics in this talk
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Matt Edmundson: Well, hello and welcome to Crowd Church's non-live livestream August series. My name is Matt Edmundson, and I just wanted to jump on before we get started with today's talk and tell you what's going on. So this isn't our usual Sunday service. I know, but it is our usual August Crowd service. If you're a regular to Crowd, you will have twigged already that we are not live. We're not in our studio as we would usually be when we livestream. Which means I won't be fighting the usual technical difficulties, but I may well fluff the odd line. Just putting that out there.
And here's why it's a little bit different. Because in August, half of Crowd Church kind of disappear to somewhere hot, and the other half of us are trying to figure out, well, why did we not book somewhere, right? It is the month in the UK that most of the team get to book their holiday because of family. So we lean in — we lean, see, messing my lines up — we lean into that every August. And we pre-record the talks. So we don't have the Conversation Street. We don't have Live Lounge. And the whole team just gets to stop for the entire month of August. We think of it as our Sabbath rest. And it's a practice we've done every year. Yeah, so that people who serve you week in, week out, they get some proper Sabbath rest and you still get something worth turning up for. The talks are actually brilliant. You'll get a lot out of them. So make sure you keep watching on a Sunday with your cup of tea, or possibly in August on a Wednesday afternoon when you're avoiding something important. I don't know, whatever suits you.
And of course, if you're new here to Crowd, let me give you a big fat hello. Crowd is an online church, actually with members all over the place. Everything we do here at Crowd, from the Sunday livestream to our midweek community groups, even the online course for those exploring Christianity — all of it is on the website, which is www.crowd.church.
Now this August, we are in the Book of Psalms for five weeks. Five Psalms. These are sort of Psalms written by people that— it's the book in the middle of the Old Testament, and there's going to be a thread running through this series, which is what restoration actually looks like when your life is all over the place. Which — hands up if you need to hear that right now.
One more thing before we get started. Make sure you stay with us to the end of the video, because there are some changes coming to Crowd starting in September, all of them good ones. And I'm going to tell you about a few of them after the talk. So hopefully that's created enough intrigue. But that's it. Let's settle in. Grab your notebooks, grab your pens. Let's enjoy the talk. I'll be back after this.
Josh Edmundson: Hello and welcome. I am very grateful to be here today taking a look at Psalm 80 with you all. Now, this psalm is a psalm of despair and a cry to the Lord for help. This is not an uncommon theme in scripture. The Psalms themselves, operating as the hymn and prayer book of the Bible, are full of other famous examples, such as Psalm 22, which begins with the infamous words, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
What really stood out to me about this particular psalm is how the author's metaphors and choices of words tap into the whole biblical story, reaching right the way back to Genesis and stretching to the life of Christ and God. It provides an example of how we will experience despair — despair is seemingly part of the human experience — but that we have a God who invites us to approach with our sorrow and to lay it at his feet, even as he works mysteriously to bring all things together for his good. This psalm is epic in scope, and we only have a few minutes, I think maybe 20 minutes, to get into it all.
So let's begin. Psalm 80. For the director of music. To the tune of "The Lilies of the Covenant". A psalm of Asaph.
"Hear us, Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock, you who sit enthroned between the cherubim. Shine forth before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh. Awaken your might; come and save us. Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved.
How long, Lord God Almighty, will your anger smoulder against the prayers of your people? You have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful. You have made us an object of derision to our neighbours, and our enemies mock us. Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved.
You transplanted a vine from Egypt; you drove out the nations and planted it. You cleared the ground for it, and it took root and filled the land. The mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches. Its branches reached as far as the Sea, its shoots as far as the River. Why have you broken down its walls so that all who pass by pick its grapes? Boars from the forest ravage it, and insects from the fields feed on it. Return to us, God Almighty! Look down from heaven and see! Watch over this vine, the root your right hand has planted, the son you have raised up for yourself.
Your vine is cut down, it is burned with fire; at your rebuke your people perish. Let your hand rest on the man at your right hand, the son of man you have raised up for yourself. Then we will not turn away from you; revive us, and we will call on your name. Restore us, Lord God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved."
From reading through this passage, I think it is clear that this is a cry for help and a display of grief at a very broken present. But to understand the context to this cry, and in particular all the metaphors the author is using, such as the image of a vine and references to a son, I think it is worth reviewing the story of the Kingdom of Israel. This passage is like the opening scene of a story that begins at its darkest moment, and that moment is only properly understood as the rest of the tale is told.
So what is the story so far? Now, we don't have time to review the whole narrative of the Old Testament — which is a bit of a shame, because it is quite an amazing narrative, and I would encourage you to go look at it for yourselves. Here we are just going to look at three different scenes from the Bible.
Now, the first scene that we'll look at takes place just as the events of the Exodus — the story of God delivering his people from slavery in Egypt — are about to kick off. The Lord had appointed a man called Moses, you may have heard of him, to speak to Pharaoh on his behalf, demanding the release of his people. Moses sets out for Egypt, and the Lord gives him instructions on what to say when he arrives. As part of this instruction, the Lord tells Moses he sees Israel as his firstborn son. That phrase is worth keeping in mind. That will be quite relevant later.
The second scene takes place after the Lord has freed the people of Israel from Egypt. He offers them a covenant — a mutually binding agreement that he will be their God and they his people, so long as they listen to him and his commandments. They will be a treasure to him and set apart from the nations of the world. And the people of Israel agree. They enter into this binding promise. This establishes the covenant relationship between God and his people. They promise to follow him and his commands, and in turn, God promises that there will be a set-apart population of the earth.
Finally, the third scene takes place right at the end of the book of Exodus. Having been freed from Egypt, having formed this covenant with God, the people of Israel built the tabernacle as a dwelling place for the Lord. And we have this incredible scene right at the end of the book, where the glory of the Lord fills the tent. This happened as, for the first time since the fall, God's presence moves in and dwells among his people.
In these three scenes, we have the Lord declaring Israel as his firstborn son. We see him delivering his people from oppression in Egypt. The fulfilment of a binding promise that he will be their God and they his people, so long as they keep his commandments. And in light of that promise, that covenant, God dwells among his people.
After these three scenes in the history of Israel, the people eventually make it to the land the Lord had promised to their forefather, a man called Abraham.
They become established as a nation, which later turns into a kingdom. And the prosperity of the people of Israel reaches its pinnacle during the reigns of King David and his son King Solomon, a time known as the Golden Age.
Why is all this relevant, you may be asking? Well, if we keep in mind this history, these three scenes, and we return to the psalm and we look at that verse in the Hebrew, I think we actually see the psalmist is recounting this story — the story of Israel. He writes of a vine the Lord took from Egypt and replanted in new ground, of how the vine grew in size and strength. This to me massively echoes the story of how God brought his people from Egypt into the promised land, and all of that story that's recorded in the book of Joshua.
In verse 15, we're looking at some more of this language. He refers to this vine as the son God raised up for himself — tying it to God's conversation with Moses. You see, then, in verse 14, we hear the author's desperate cry, "Elohim Tzva'ot!" Something seems to have happened between God moving to dwell with Moses and this cry of "Elohim Tzva'ot!" Something, as we will see.
The familial position of the Son, the presence of God with his people, is repeated by Christ hundreds of times. A repetition which gives all of these words and phrases even deeper, more implicit meaning.
Returning to the psalm, the use of language suggests that the writer is very, very aware of the history his people have with God, and of the promises that have been made, as they are so crucial to the story. By recounting this history in the psalm, it seems to me the psalmist is almost reminding God of this history and of his promises to this people — to remind him of the nation he said would be his treasured possession, as part of his cry for intervention.
But why does the psalmist need the Lord to intervene at all? What occurred between the Golden Age of Israel and the psalmist's time that would cause him to recount stories of past promises and God's presence as though they were nowhere to be found?
After the death of King Solomon and the end of the Golden Age, the story of Israel took a tragic turn. The ten northern tribes of Israel seceded under the hand of a harsh king, splitting the nation. The northern kingdom kept the name of Israel, while the remaining southern tribes became the kingdom of Judah.
Over the successive monarchs in both kingdoms, the people repeatedly turned away from the Lord. Instead of being a nation set apart, they threw off God's instruction and became just like every other nation. They broke the covenant, the sacred binding promise that they had made with God, again and again — and in doing so they cut themselves off from his promises. As a consequence, 2 Kings 17 talks about how the Lord removed them from his presence. The northern kingdom of Israel fell to the Assyrian Empire in the eighth century BC. The God who had once dwelt among his people had left them to the consequences of their actions and the covenant they had made.
And it's around this period of time that I suspect this psalm was written. And I suspect this because of the bleak language used by Asaph. In verses 12 to 13, Asaph paints a very, very bleak picture, writing that the vine of Israel has been left exposed, torn away in places by the beasts of the forest, with insects. And the terrible state of the nation is brought to a head in verse 16: "Your vine is cut down, it is burned with fire; at your rebuke your people perish."
I think this psalm was penned in response to the desolation of a nation, in response to the shattered covenant between God and his people. When I read this, I see promises strewn about like corpses, when the presence of God is seemingly nowhere to be found. The writer, in an appeal to the Lord, speaks the history of Israel as a vine — reminding him it was planted by his own divine hand, and how now that vine has been left to smoke and smoulder with the consequences of the people's actions. And he begs, "Hashiveinu, hashiveinu, hashiveinu." This is the lament of the psalmist.
This framing of the psalm as a response to desolation and broken promises gave me pause for reflection. How often do we find ourselves disappointed or in dismay because a future we had thought certain crumbles before our eyes? How often do we see ourselves in situations that we know is the ruin of some far greater thing? How often do we notice our own hand leading to the broken situation in which we find ourselves? Though the particular predicament of the psalmist is a kingdom descending to destruction, the broader template of broken hopes, unmet expectations and personal failing — it seems to me that there is. What then is there to do in the face of these realisations?
Again, I think the psalmist gives us a good working model. He doesn't ignore his circumstances. He doesn't set a stiff upper lip and pretend that nothing is wrong. And he doesn't set about trying to instantly fix the problem. Instead, he recognises the sorrow of the situation. He brings it before God and he cries out in despair, pleading for the Lord to reveal himself, to restore his people, and to make his face shine upon them today.
At first look, in his decision to approach the Lord, it seems a little crazy. I'm not going to lie. Who is he to express sorrow and anger before the King of Heaven, to ask questions that seem to be demanding an answer, and to petition for intervention when what the psalmist sees before him is a consequence of his own people's actions?
It is one of the biggest mysteries of grace, I think, that not only are we permitted to enter that throne room of heaven by prayer at all, but that we are told to approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
I think this is key to what the Bible calls the practice of lament. Lamenting, I think, is the act of bringing our grief at a broken world, a broken situation, before the King — giving it to him and asking for his presence within and in spite of it all. Not least of all when we recognise our own brokenness as part of the problem we face.
Lamenting requires us to contend with the fact that our heart is broken and it is something that we just do not have an answer to. It requires us to be honest with God — sometimes easier said than done — to tell him exactly what it is we are thinking and how we feel, and to, at the end of it all, confess that even though we do not fully comprehend him or his ways, we need him.
The final idea I want to consider as I draw to a close is best summarised in the words of Saint Paul, slightly modified: that we do not lament as those without a vine.
And this is where we see how all the language of the psalmist is mirrored in the life of Christ. Christ declared himself to be the true vine and the Son of God, echoing the language of verse 17 in this psalm. He declares himself to be the Son of Man — the Son of Man who will ascend to the right hand of the Father in glory. Through his death and resurrection, he fulfilled the covenant between God and his people and formed a new one, one in which anyone could become a part of his people, a people he would dwell with and within forevermore.
In a detail that I particularly love, Jesus revealed his glory and divinity to his closest disciples in an event known as the Transfiguration, just before his death and resurrection. The Gospel writer Matthew mentions that the disciples gazed upon his face, which shone with glory — fulfilling, I think, for the first time in human history, the prayer so ardently prayed by the psalmist: may the face of God shine on us, that we might be saved.
All the language used by the psalmist — that of Israel being a vine, of being God's son, his request to restore the vine and to raise up the Son of Man — is all paralleled by Jesus in the Gospels, who ultimately fulfils and redeems the role. The author lamented before the Lord, a petition for his intervention in his situation. We see in the bigger story of the Bible how the Lord faithfully delivered on that petition, almost word for word, but in a far more powerful and far more beautiful display of grace and love. We are not those who lament about the brokenness.
And so to end, I want to suggest a challenge for us. Over the next week, let us bring any brokenness, despair, sadness or sorrow before the Lord. Pray. Be honest. Tell him what weighs upon your heart, and ask for his presence and his help. And brace yourself for what happens when you fall on the comfort and mercy of a loving and gracious God.
Matt Edmundson: So that's the talk, and you're going to be able to find all of the notes, a sort of detailed blog post about it, all on the website, which is www.crowd.church. And of course, if you'd rather listen than watch — you know, maybe you're on the school run, on a dog walk, washing up, whatever it is — every talk goes out as a podcast. Just search Crowd… not crowd.church, that's our website… search Crowd Church wherever you get your podcasts from. I reference back my previous point about fluffing lines.
Now I did say at the start that there were some changes coming to Crowd, so do let me tell you about them.
Number one, Live Lounge. Now normally Live Lounge is a chance to jump on to a call and chat with members of the team after the livestream has ended. But from September, you're going to be able to do that from the start of the livestream. You'll be able to watch the livestream in Live Lounge and watch it with actual people — your community, your friends, maybe even make some new friends. And like I say, going to do that right from the start, which I'm really excited about, because it is going to help us build community. We have a phenomenal community here at Crowd, and building on that I think is going to be exciting and phenomenal. So that's going to be one change.
The second change. The Wednesday night community groups are changing a little bit. So instead of having scattered and disparate groups, we're going to gather together as one big community and then break into smaller groups. And each small group will be your regular community group, where people get to know your name, who notice if you're not there, and you get to build your friendships.
Alpha will run alongside Community from September. It's going to move to a Wednesday night, same time, 7:30. And Alpha is great if you're new to the Christian faith, or if you're just exploring the Christian faith. The next Alpha course starts on the 9th of September, and you can register for that on the website at www.crowd.church. We have lots of people coming to Alpha. They are phenomenal things. So yeah, go check out the website for more information about that at crowd.church.
The third change is more in-person meetups. Yay! Go in-person meetups! Now, we baptised some folks in Dorset last month, which was really phenomenal. We thought, actually we need to do more of these in-person meetups. So that's what we're going to do. We are planning gatherings throughout the year, from regional meetups to bigger events. Again, more information will be coming — more information on the website.
One thing to tell you about, CrowdFest 27. CrowdFest is going to be a big get-together where we all get together. And we're going to do that at the Wildfires Festival at the end of July in 2027. You can find out more information about Wildfires Festival and buy your tickets at wildfiresfestival.com, or just follow the links from the website, because there's going to be more information on the website about CrowdFest 27. crowd.church.
So yeah, if that's not it, there's more stuff coming. Yes, there are. But I don't want to bombard you. We're going to go through that in more detail in September.
So in the meantime, like I said, everything you want to know about Crowd, from past talks to all the stuff we've talked about today, is on the website, www.crowd.church. Make sure you subscribe to the channel whilst you're here, because like I said, this is a five-parter all the way through the Book of Psalms, and it's built to be taken as a whole. Each one's going to build onto the next one, so don't miss any of them.
But that's it from me. Thank you so much for joining us. Have a phenomenal week wherever you are in the world. I will see you next time. Bye for now.