When God Sells His People for Nothing

The Psalmist cries out in anguish: "Thou sellest thy people for nought, and dost not increase thy wealth by their price." This is the language of one watching his nation decimated, his people scattered to enemies, yet wondering—where is God's vindication?

The meaning cuts deeper than mere military defeat. Spurgeon's contemporary Hengstenberg illuminates it thus: God has surrendered His people to their adversaries without exacting even a costly victory from them. They were given away as a merchant disposes of goods he despises, eager only to be rid of the worthless burden. No ransom was demanded. No price was paid. The transaction was not even profitable to the victor.

This imagery captures the deepest anguish of faith: when God's people suffer not as conquered enemies worth something, but as refuse—worthless, contemptible, discarded. The Psalmist does not question God's existence, but His valuation. Have we become so insignificant that our Lord throws us away without thought?

Yet this very cry—this protest lodged before the Almighty—proves otherwise. Only those whom God treasures dare demand an accounting. The faithful bring their bewilderment to Yahweh because they believe He has made a covenant with them. Their complaint is not abandonment, but betrayal of His own character. The Psalmist refuses to accept that his people are worthless in God's sight, even when appearances suggest precisely that.