by Colin Saxton
Of all of the beautiful ways salvation is described in the Old Testament, one of the loveliest is found in passages where God leads his people into a “spacious place.” Three examples include:
“So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.” [Exodus 3:8]
“God brought me out into a spacious place; God rescued me because God delighted in me.” [2nd Samuel 22:20]
“I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place.” [Psalm 31:7]
Spaciousness, and the freedom that accompanies it, is central to the Old Testament experience of salvation and deliverance. The Hebrew word for “spacious place” is sometimes transliterated as merchab, which means “a broad or roomy place, an expansive or wide place.”
Merchab is the opposite of being confined or controlled by anything outside of us or within us — that is not God. This grace of God, as it is revealed in the scripture, liberates captives, frees the fearful, unchains the prisoner, cancels the debt of sinners, heals the broken and allows the righteous to live an unhindered life before God. It is a gift to the people who actively seek the Lord and it meets them in the ordinary and everyday circumstance of human existence. A spacious place is a gracious opening, often unseen to us because our eyes are so fixed on some immediate danger or dulled by relentless drudgery. But when we glimpse it, and rely on the God-given power to step into the opening, we are embraced by the Shalom of God which makes all things new.
The fullness of Shalom is much more than the absence of conflict. Instead, it is an unhindered, contented life in God and a home in the beloved community belonging to God. Within this realm of peace, we come to live in the righteousness and justice of God in every sphere of our lives, depending fully on God to make this possible. In the spacious place, we see that we have enough — neither too much or too little — in order to know the joy of being fully dependent upon God our Provider. In the Christian context, it is learning to walk in the fullness of Christ, both individually and communally. Rooted in Christ and united in his Body, we have all we need to walk in harmony with God and each other, despite the very real trials and temptations we may face.
In this gracious space God provides, all enemies, foes, and distractions are kept at bay — unable to harm us — even though they remain in the vicinity. Through the way opened by God’s Power and Presence, we dwell peaceably, joyfully and faithfully even through our circumstances remain explosive.
What I find most interesting in this particular image of salvation is how it is received by biblical characters in the midst of their dilemmas, difficulty and danger. In the Exodus example, God’s invitation to dwell in a land flowing with milk and honey comes as Moses is on the run from Pharaoh and while the Hebrew people are suffering under Egypt’s oppressive hand. In 2nd Samuel, amidst the chaos that often filled David’s life, God holds out an invitation to a spacious place. Now at the end of his days, David is facing his last and greatest foe — death. Even in this trial, he experiences the God who delights in him. In the last example, the psalmist is encircled by terrorizing enemies and barely clinging to hope. Suddenly, he realizes there is a firm and roomy place to stand under the watchful care of God. No longer giving in to fear, the writer gives thanks, finding the strength and courage he needs and sufficiently more to admonish others to “be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” [Psalm 31:24] Over and over again, as they dangle at the end of their rope, distressed saints received God’s rescue and release from the imminent danger and oppression they are facing and experience a place to stand with courage and hope.
False promise or Truth Waiting to be Found?
For the skeptical, the notion of a real spacious place may seem far-fetched. Like Shangri-La, the fictional valley countless explorers spent their lives seeking but never finding, maybe a spacious place is only another utopian’s hope that will inevitably be crushed by the blunt force of reality.
A spacious place may, indeed, seem like a fantasy today. You may be consumed by the chaos of a frantic and stressed-out family, job or life. You may be burdened by the overwhelming pain of grief, loneliness or lost hope. Maybe you are shackled by sin or trapped in your own selfishness, pride or shame. Instead of finding any sense of freedom to become who God intends, you are hemmed in by a life that is beyond your power to change.
If you do, this psalmist’s lament might resonate with you:
The cords of death entangled me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
the snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called to the LORD;
I cried to my God for help. [Psalm 18:4-6]
In his zarar—Hebrew for “human distress”—the writer calls out to God. Stricken by anxiety, feeling overwhelmed and boxed in by advancing enemies, no way of escape is obvious. Life is suffocating at this point. Options are narrowing. There is no ability to act with freedom, peace or liberated power. The only options seem to be to hold out as long as possible or surrender now. In either case, the anticipated outcome is captivity or destruction.
Distress like this arises when real foes are about to descend on us, especially when they brandish the weapons of war. Distress can also overtake and overwhelm those who feel direction-less or trapped unhealthy situations. It is felt by those longing for intimacy and those struggling to get free from abusive relationships. At times, what gives rise to zarar is not even real — just powerful, imagined threats that leave us feeling hopelessly confined, utterly alone or out of control. Real or imagined, this confining, anxious distress is opposite the spaciousness promised to those who enter into the merchab of God.
In all likelihood, the distressed writer of Psalm 18 is David. In this passage, he is recounting the real feeling of fear and anxiety that gripped him during one of his many trials. King David faced more than his fair share of enemies and obstacles. Sometimes, these resulted from his own carelessness and sin. At other times, his fear and anxiety is a by-product of the human condition — the every day, ordinary challenges all humans face — sickness, loss, discomfort, old age, or death. Sometimes, David encountered unique circumstances brought on by his passion to serve God. Rather than necessarily simplifying our lives, and certainly with no promise to eliminate hardship and suffering, faithfulness to God likely brings us into places where we are severely tested.
Regardless of the origin of his distress, the writer of Psalm 18 sounds a familiar cry. It is the pain and distress of someone feeling strangled by life. With nowhere else to turn, David wails, “In my zarar (human distress) I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help!”
If our view of salvation is limited to God moving us from a “lost list” to “found list” on some scorecard in heaven, our only consolation may be that God, at least, hears our cry. Others hold on to a hope that in the next life things will be different. Rather than being defeated and crushed for all time, God will vindicate us and reward us for our faithful endurance and suffering here. One day, in another time and place, God’s salvation eventually evens the score.
For those of us who experience salvation as present reality, however, the future is now. Not perfectly, to be sure, but we understand from our experience that God seeks to deliver us in our time, as well. God’s grace not only carries through to the next life, it emboldens and empowers in the present. We are given everything we need to live in intimacy with God, in right relationship with others, and in harmony with God’s will, despite the circumstance we are in. Pressed and harassed though we may feel at any given moment, a spacious place awaits those who seek the salvation of God in this life.
Distressed David remembers this in the midst of his heart rendering call for help. Further into Psalm 18, in the midst of his blinding fear, David feels the ground beneath him shift and shimmy just a bit. The mountains around him tremble and quake. As if a light flickers on in the midst of his darkness, David remembers there is a Power and Presence at work in the world, greater than the enemies staring him in the eye. He writes:
God reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me. [Psalm 18:16-19]
When no way out of danger and distress was visible, a spacious place emerged. Suddenly, David had room to gain a renewed perspective. Though his enemies were too strong for him alone, the God-of-angel armies was now present and standing with him. Instead of drowning in fear and anxiety, the strength of God’s real hand lifts David into a place where peace is found and where joy, hope and faithfulness are recovered.
Colin Saxton is a member of North Valley Friends in Newberg, Oregon. A former general secretary of Friends United Meeting, Saxton now serves as Stewardship Theologian and Director of Director of Church Relations at Everence which offers faith-based financial services to faith communities and people of faith.
He says that this piece is a work in progress that he hopes may become a part of a book if way opens. We are grateful that he has made this writing available now in another time (early 2025) of fear and anxiety.