Psalms 140: Shielding the Inner Consciousness

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Quick Insights

The psalm reads as an intimate account of thought-life where inner violence and slander are projected outward and must be transformed by conscious attention.
A posture of petition signifies deliberate transfer of attention from fear to an observing center that shelters imagination and reshapes outcomes.
Imagined traps and poisonous speech are revealed as self-generated scenarios that persist when given energy, and which dissolve when their source is reclaimed.
The healing arc moves from vigilance against hostile images to trusting a sustaining presence that covers and redirects creative power.
The final assurance affirms that sustained upright attention produces a life aligned with right perception and gratitude rather than reaction and victimhood.

What is the Main Point of Psalms 140?

At the heart of the chapter is a practical psychological principle: what you imagine with intensity gathers around you as felt reality, but the inner sovereign consciousness can withdraw consent, protect itself in the day of battle, and redirect imaginative energy so that the plots conceived by fear collapse into their own consequences.

What is the Spiritual Meaning of Psalms 140?

The opening cry for deliverance frames hostility as an internal drama. The 'evil' and the 'violent' are not only external persons but habitual mental attitudes—racing, compounding thought patterns that sharpen into accusatory narratives. When the mind entertains mischief, it recruits memory and imagination to assemble evidence, and the experience of being endangered becomes a lived scene. Recognizing these as creations of attention is the first move toward freedom. The repeated plea to be kept is a call to establish a conscious shelter, an inner posture that does not feed the hostile story. This shelter is not avoidance but a settled awareness that covers the 'head' in battle: it is attention directed toward the felt sense of safety. In practice this means arresting the automatic replay of malicious scenarios and introducing a contrary scene in imagination that embodies protection, resourcefulness, and composure. The battle is psychological, and the covering is an act of sustained imagining. When the text speaks of mischief returning to its speakers and of burning coals falling upon them, it describes a natural psychological law: images and words empowered by hatred rebound upon their source when the imagination ceases to support them. Wicked devices dissipate when no attention nourishes them. The closing assurance that the Lord maintains the cause of the afflicted and that the upright dwell in presence points to a lived outcome: those who persist in inhabiting a clear, benevolent state will find their internal world rearranged so that gratitude arises and constructive realities follow.

Key Symbols Decoded

Serpents' tongues and adders' poison are metaphors for sharp, venomous words and the inner voice that hisses accusation. They represent the self-talk that injects suspicion and enragement into the body, creating a physiology of threat. Nets, snares, and gins are the imagined contingencies and preemptive defenses the mind erects to protect itself; paradoxically these traps restrict movement and ensure the very suffering they aim to prevent. When one recognizes these symbols as habitual cognitive strategies rather than objective facts, their power begins to wane. Fire, pits, and burning coals symbolize the transformative consequence of attention turning inward: the heat of focused consciousness either consumes the imagined enemy or burns the fuel of anger so it cannot reform. The 'Lord' repeatedly invoked is the center of awareness, the observing presence that both shelters and redirects imagination. To dwell in that presence is to allow creative power to operate from a calm, sovereign place rather than from reactivity and fear.

Practical Application

Begin by noticing the narrative of threat as if it were someone else's story; speak to it internally and refuse to accept its premises. Consciously construct an inner scene in which you are sheltered and clear-headed, perhaps picturing a head covered in light during the day of battle, and return to that scene whenever the old hostile images arise. This repeated imaginative act withdraws consent from the violent thoughts and reallocates energy toward scenarios of preservation and right action. When slanderous words or fearful plots surface, imagine them as cords and nets laid out by a trembling hand, and see them disentangle and fall apart when you do not pull on them. Use revision at night to replay moments differently, allowing mischief to collapse into harmlessness. Over time, as attention steadies in the presence that sustains you, gratitude will replace vigilance and the outer circumstances will align with the inner uprightness you have chosen.

Under Siege: A Soul’s Plea for Refuge and Justice

Psalm 140 read as inner drama is a compact map of a single mind at war with itself. The psalmist is not a historical victim pleading to an external deity, but the speaking center of consciousness addressing its own higher presence. The petition, the imagery of violence, the traps, the poisons, and the repeated 'Selah' are stages in an inner psychological movement — from attack and fear, through request and protection, to the final assurance of inner justice and peace. Read this way, each figure and action becomes a state of mind, and the imaginative faculty is shown as the operative power that both produces the conflict and resolves it.

The psalm opens with the cry, 'Deliver me, O LORD, from the evil man: preserve me from the violent man.' Here the LORD is the I AM presence, that aware center in which thought and selfhood find refuge. The 'evil man' and the 'violent man' are not literal others but interior actors: the mean, scheming thought patterns that arise — envy, resentment, cruelty, the instinct to hurt, to dominate, to sabotage. They are the lower impulses that constrict consciousness and seek to overthrow the chosen course of imagination. The plea for deliverance is therefore an appeal to the higher imagination, to the abiding sense of I AM, to interpose calm awareness where reactive thought would otherwise run amok.

'Which imagine mischiefs in their heart; continually are they gathered together for war.' This line shows that these adversarial figures are themselves imaginal creations. To 'imagine mischiefs in their heart' is literally to form inner images and narratives of injury, to rehearse grievances and plot revenge. War is the habitual circulation of such images. The mind that allows these images to gather becomes a battleground. Every resentful visualization reinforces the sense of threat, making the world appear hostile. The psalmist recognizes the mechanism: inner plotting precedes outer conflict. If the imagination is the workshop in which events are forged, then the cure has to be enacted there as well.

The image of sharpened tongues and adders' poison under lips points to self-talk and the venomous suggestions that wrap thought and speech. Tongues like a serpent are the critical, slithering voice that hisses accusations and undermines trust. Adders' poison under their lips describes those unconscious, underhanded insinuations that slip beneath awareness to corrode confidence. In psychological terms, these are the introjected voices — parental criticisms, cultural shaming, internalized aggressions — that speak as if they were other people, yet are formations of one’s own imagining. Noticing them is the first step toward neutralizing them.

Twice the psalm pauses with Selah. These breaks are not mere liturgical ornaments; they are invitations to stillness. The Selah is the inner dropping of attention into the witness. It asks the speaker to stop the motion of plotting and to listen from the unperturbed center. At these pauses the creative vortex of imagination can be redirected. Where before the mind spun a web of attack, now attention can form a different image: a shield, a covering, a quiet presence that resists and transmutes the violent narrative.

'Keep me, O LORD, from the hands of the wicked; preserve me from the violent man, who have purposed to overthrow my goings.' Hands, plots, and overthrowing are metaphors of control. To be overthrown in mind is to surrender agency. The psalmist asks the higher self to preserve the path of creativity and clarity — the 'goings' meaning the movement of consciousness toward its chosen end. Preservation is not passivity; it is the imaginative act of sustaining an image of protection, of seeing one’s chosen course intact in the face of parasitic thoughts. This preservation is achieved not by logical argument but by a felt, sustained assumption: I am guarded, my direction is unassailable, my imagination holds the form.

The proud lay snares and spread nets by the wayside. Pride here is the ego that sets up traps for others and, more perniciously, for itself. Snares and nets are familiar metaphors for habitual thought-loops, for patterns that catch attention and recycle it into the same mistaken conclusions. When a thought-loop is strong, it functions like a road-net where every step leads to a preordained fall. The response in the psalm is to turn to the higher imagination to see those nets as unreal, to observe them from outside and refuse the automatic engagement. The real power is the capacity to imagine a clear path, and to inhabit that path so fully that the snares lose their traction.

'I said unto the LORD, Thou art my God: hear the voice of my supplications.' Here the speaker asserts allegiance to the higher state. Saying 'Thou art my God' is an act of identification — a deliberate choice to align with the voice of presence rather than the chorus of reactivity. Hearing the voice of supplication is less a request for external intervention than a consent of consciousness to be heard by its own deepest center. The supplication itself is an imaginative rehearsal of deliverance; by feeling the plea, by making it vivid in the inner theater, one changes the trajectory of subsequent experience.

'O God the Lord, the strength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of battle.' Salvation here is psychological freeing: the liberation from anxiety, compulsion, and hostile thought. The 'covering of the head' is the protective imagination that wraps the thinker in a sense of inviolability. Head imagery points to the seat of awareness; being covered suggests that awareness is being guarded by meaning, envisioned as armor. In the 'day of battle' — those moments when the old patterns rise to fight — the remembrance and re-application of this covering is the decisive creative act. To imagine oneself covered is to change perception; the outer world follows the inner assumption.

'Grant not, O LORD, the desires of the wicked: further not his wicked device; lest they exalt themselves.' This is instruction for the imaginer: do not supply the imagination with the fulfilment of hostile scenarios. Desire is creative energy. If one invests emotional fuel in destructive fantasies, they are empowered. The higher imagination refuses to endorse the wicked device; it refuses to dramatize the scenario into existence. The practical discipline is to withdraw attention from those imaginings, to steadfastly picture an alternative outcome, and to feel the reality of that alternative. This withdrawal is not suppression but redirection — the conscious act of building a different present.

'As for the head of those that compass me about, let the mischief of their own lips cover them. Let burning coals fall upon them: let them be cast into the fire; into deep pits, that they rise not up again.' Here the psalmist invokes a kind of psychological law: what you animate returns. If the enemy's power is built on venomous speech and crafted plots, then left to its own momentum it will self-consume. 'Burning coals' are purifying awareness — the light that turns mischief into ashes by exposing it. 'Deep pits' are the subconscious realms where obsolete patterns can be buried permanently. The petition is not for external harm but for the natural collapse of constructs that can no longer be sustained when the higher imagination refuses to feed them. In practice this means watching the plots implode without grabbing them, letting them exhaust themselves.

'Let not an evil speaker be established in the earth: evil shall hunt the violent man to overthrow him.' This line circles back to the principle of inner karma. The 'establishment' of a voice in the psyche depends on sustained attention. Remove the attention and the voice loses establishment. Evil will then 'hunt' the violent mind, meaning the dynamics of reactive thought feed and thereby destroy themselves. The image describes a self-limiting system: any system based on falsity and aggression is unstable. Consciousness, by refusing to uphold it, allows it to collapse.

'I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor. Surely the righteous shall give thanks unto thy name: the upright shall dwell in thy presence.' The conclusion affirms that when one aligns with the higher imagination, the inner poor and afflicted — the parts of the self that suffered under domination and shame — are vindicated. Maintenance here is restoration: the whole psyche is held in right relation by the center of awareness. Thankfulness and dwelling in divine presence are not pietistic add-ons; they are the natural outcome of a mind that has ceased to feed its enemies and instead rests in creative assumption. The upright person is the one whose imagination is disciplined and whose inner conversations are governed by the awareness 'I AM,' thereby producing a life of integrity.

Practically, this psalm instructs on how to use imagination to transform reality. First, identify the violent inner figures — the critical voice, the scheming anticipation, the snaring habits. Name them, and pause at Selah to create the witness state. Second, make an affirmative assumption: call upon your center, visualize a protective covering over the head, feel the safety and rightness of your path. Third, refuse to detail or rehearse the wicked device. Do not supply the creative energy of desire to images meant to harm. Fourth, allow exposure and attention to act like burning coals; notice plots until they lose their charge and fall into the deep pit where they can be forgotten. Finally, rest in gratitude, which stabilizes the new imaginal pattern and anchors the transformation.

Read as a psychological drama, Psalm 140 is not a cry for external vengeance but a practical manual for inner deliverance. It teaches that the battlefield is in imagination, that words and images are the instruments of bondage or freedom, and that the creative power operating within human consciousness is wholly capable of purifying, protecting, and establishing a life aligned with truth. Selah — stop, reflect, and let the higher imagination take command. The world will then reflect what you have assumed within.

Common Questions About Psalms 140

How does Neville Goddard interpret Psalm 140 for inner protection?

Neville sees Psalm 140 as a script for the imagination to assume a protected state, treating the Lord mentioned in the psalm as the consciousness within that shelters and preserves. Rather than an external petition, it is an inward affirmation: identify with the One who covers your head in battle and refuse the inner pictures of violence and slander. By dwelling in the feeling of safety the psalm expresses, you shift your state and thereby change outward circumstance; the wicked devices lose power when you maintain the assumed reality of preservation and righteousness (Ps 140).

Can Psalm 140 be used as a manifestation technique with imagination?

Yes; the psalm can be used as a manifestation technique by using its words to create and sustain an imaginal act of protection, then living from that feeling as if accomplished. Imagine clearly the end — being preserved from malicious intent — and feel the relief, confidence, and righteousness as present fact. Repeat the scene until the emotion is natural, dismiss contrary imaginings, and trust that outward events will conform. Keep the heart right: the psalm asks divine justice, not vindictive wishing, so visualize resolution and peace rather than harm to others (Ps 140:7–12).

How do I use Psalm 140 to transform fear of enemies into inner peace?

Use the psalm as a blueprint to change your inner scene: whenever fear arises, mentally rehearse a brief imaginal act where you are safe, vindicated, and dwelling in the presence of the righteous, allowing gratitude to replace anxiety. Turn the psalm’s petitions into present-tense affirmations and saturate them with feeling, then refuse to replay hostile scenarios. Consistent nightly and daytime practice will recondition your state, so your imagination no longer fuels fear but projects peace; as your inner belief shifts, outer circumstances follow and the power of imagined enemies wanes (Ps 140).

What practical steps from Neville's teachings apply to praying Psalm 140?

Begin by relaxing and entering a state akin to sleep, then form a short, vivid imaginal scene that embodies being protected: see yourself covered, uninjured, and at peace while hostile voices fall silent. Assume the feeling of safety and gratitude, speak inwardly as though already delivered, and repeat the scene until it impresses your consciousness. Refuse to dwell on the enemies’ plots; persist in the chosen state through the day. End with confident expectancy, knowing the inner act governs outer experience, and return nightly to reinforce the state until it becomes your habitual awareness (Ps 140:1–5).

Which verses in Psalm 140 correspond to Neville's 'assume the feeling' principle?

Several verses lend themselves to the practice of assuming the feeling: the opening cry for deliverance (Ps 140:1) becomes the declaration that you are already preserved; the confession Thou art my God; hear my supplications (Ps 140:6) mirrors the inner acknowledgment that inhabits the wished-for state; the testimony that God has covered my head in the day of battle (Ps 140:7) is the felt protection to be assumed; and the assurance that the LORD maintains the cause of the afflicted (Ps 140:12) corresponds to assuming vindication and peace as present reality.