Binding Our Kings with Chains & Our Nobles with Fetters of Iron...

 The other day I was reading through Psalms. Every time I open that book, something different rises to the surface depending on the season I'm walking through. Scripture has a way of meeting you exactly where you are.

 Right now, I find myself deeply grieved by the evil being exposed in our world. The reports surrounding the Epstein files are horrifying. It’s sickening to consider what powerful leaders, entertainers, and business figures were/are doing right under our noses—and how many innocent lives have suffered because of it.

But we must remember this: God is not blind, and He is not indifferent. Judgment belongs to Him. No one escapes His justice. Those who seem untouchable are still dust before Him—vapor in His hands. In His time, He will remind them who He is.

In the meantime, Scripture gives us clear instructions.

We are commanded to pray for those in authority over us. Not just the ones we like. Not just the ones we voted for. All of them. 

We are told in Jeremiah 29:7 and 1 Timothy 2:1–3 to pray for our leaders so that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness. Our prayers are not about political preference; they are about spiritual obedience and the welfare of our communities. 

So we pray for our leaders to do good and to be good. 

But as I continued reading, Psalms 149:8 stopped me: 

"To bind their kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron."

In its full context, this passage points toward the future reign of Christ and the judgment of the wicked. Yet it also echoes a present spiritual reality. Jesus speaks in Matthew 16:19 about binding and loosing—about spiritual authority given to His followers.

To bind is to forbid by a higher authority. And through Christ, we do have authority—not our own, but His. We are ambassadors. We operate under Heaven’s jurisdiction. With that authority comes responsibility.

So yes, we pray for righteousness in leadership.
But when wickedness is exposed, we also pray against it.

We bind corruption.
We bind exploitation.
We bind deception and abuse.

Not in anger, not in vengeance—but in obedience. Verse 9 says, “To execute on them the written judgment—this honor have all His saints.” That word honor is striking. Spiritual warfare is not reserved for a select few. It belongs to every believer.

When our knees hit the floor, we do not pray passively. We intercede with authority. We ask God to expose darkness, restrain evil, protect the innocent, and bring true justice. We ask Him to convict hearts—or remove those who refuse correction.

Can you imagine what would happen if believers fully obeyed both commands?
If we prayed faithfully for our leaders—and boldly bound wickedness wherever it tried to take root?

Revival does not begin in the White House or the courthouse. It begins in the prayer room.

And perhaps the change we long to see in our nations begins when we remember the authority—and responsibility—we already carry.