restoration

A Sheep’s Journey Through Psalms -38

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A Devotional on Psalm 38: A Cry from the Heart

As I sit with Psalm 38, I feel the weight of David’s words pressing into my soul. His raw honesty, his desperate plea for God’s mercy, resonates deeply. “My whole body is sick,” he cries, “because of my sin” (v. 3). I’ve been there—haven’t you?—when the burden of my mistakes feels like a physical ache, when guilt and shame threaten to drown out hope. David’s words remind me that I’m not alone in this struggle, and from a Christian perspective, they point me toward the healing grace of Christ, a truth echoed by the early church fathers.

David describes a soul overwhelmed: “My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear” (v. 4). I can almost see him, head bowed, heart heavy, confessing not just to God but to himself that his sin has consequences. St. Augustine, in his Confessions, knew this weight well. He wrote, “The punishment of every disordered mind is its own disorder.” Sin doesn’t just separate us from God; it fractures our inner peace, leaving us restless until we return to Him. Like David, Augustine learned that only in confessing our brokenness do we open the door to God’s restoration.

Yet, what strikes me about Psalm 38 is not just the despair but the audacity of David’s hope. Even as he laments, “My wounds fester and are loathsome” (v. 5), he pleads, “Do not forsake me, O Lord; O my God, be not far from me” (v. 21). This is no casual prayer—it’s a cry from the depths, a refusal to let go of God’s presence. Early church father Gregory of Nyssa saw this kind of prayer as a journey toward God: “The soul that looks steadfastly to God is raised above the changes and chances of this mortal life.” David’s plea is not just for relief but for nearness to God, a reminder that even in our lowest moments, we can seek the One who never abandons us.

As Christians, we read Psalm 38 through the lens of the cross. David’s cry for mercy finds its ultimate answer in Jesus, who bore our sins and carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4). When I feel the sting of my own failures, I’m reminded of St. John Chrysostom’s words: “The Cross is the remedy for all our ills.” Christ’s sacrifice doesn’t erase the reality of our sin’s consequences, but it transforms them, offering forgiveness and the promise of renewal. David didn’t know the full story of redemption we now see, but his faith in God’s mercy foreshadows the hope we have in Jesus.

So, what do I take from Psalm 38 today? It’s okay to feel the weight of my sin, to name it honestly before God as David did. But I can’t stay there. Like David, I’m called to lift my eyes to the Lord, to trust that He hears my cry and is near. “Come quickly to help me, my Lord and my Savior” (v. 22). This is my prayer, and it’s yours too. Let’s bring our brokenness to the foot of the cross, where Christ’s love meets us, heals us, and sets us free.

Reflection: What burdens are you carrying today? Take a moment to lay them before God in prayer, trusting in His mercy. How might Christ’s grace reshape the way you see your struggles?

Prayer: Lord, my heart is heavy with my own failings, but I trust in Your unfailing love. Draw near to me, as You did to David, and heal me through the grace of Your Son, Jesus. Amen.

A Sheep’s Journey Through Psalms -33

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A Devotion on Psalm 33: A Song of the Heart

Imagine standing on a windswept hill at dawn, the sky ablaze with hues of amber and rose, as if God Himself is painting the heavens with a brush dipped in glory. The world feels alive—grasses swaying like a choir, birds weaving melodies into the air, and the distant rumble of the sea echoing like a heartbeat. This is the scene Psalm 33 invites us into: a vibrant call to worship, a reminder that the Creator’s handiwork surrounds us, and His steadfast love fills every corner of our lives.

“Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous; it is fitting for the upright to praise him” (Psalm 33:1). I picture myself here, not just reading these words but feeling them. My heart, sometimes heavy with worries—bills piling up, relationships fraying, or the quiet ache of uncertainty—finds a spark of joy in this command. It’s as if God is saying, “Lift your eyes, my child. Look at the world I’ve made. Let it teach you to sing.” So, I imagine picking up a guitar, my fingers fumbling over the strings, offering a shaky but earnest song to the One who never falters.

The psalmist goes on: “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth” (v. 6). I think of the nights I’ve stood under a canopy of stars, each one a pinpoint of light, like a promise God whispered into the dark. Those stars weren’t just flung into place; they were spoken into being. And if God’s word can craft galaxies, surely it can speak peace into my chaos. I recall a moment last year when anxiety gripped me—my job felt unsteady, my plans unclear. Yet, reading this, I’m reminded that the same God who breathed out constellations knows my name and holds my future.

“For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm” (v. 9). This verse feels like a rock under my feet. I see a stormy sea, waves crashing like doubts, threatening to pull me under. But God’s command is stronger than the storm. I think of times I’ve felt unsteady—when a friend’s betrayal stung or when grief left me hollow. Yet, God’s word stands firm, a lighthouse cutting through the fog, guiding me back to hope.

The psalm shifts to God’s sovereignty: “The Lord foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever” (vv. 10–11). I imagine a grand chessboard, where human schemes move like pawns, ambitious but fragile. God, the master player, sees every move before it’s made. I confess, I’ve made my own plans—career goals, dreams of a perfect life—only to watch them unravel. Yet, I’m learning to trust His plans instead. His plans, unlike mine, don’t waver.

And then, the heartbeat of the psalm: “But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love” (v. 18). I picture God’s eyes, warm and steady, like a father watching his child take their first steps. He sees me—not just my successes but my stumbles, my quiet tears, my unspoken fears. His unfailing love feels like a river, steady and deep, carrying me through dry seasons. I remember a night of prayer, feeling alone, yet sensing His presence like a warm hand on my shoulder, whispering, “I’m here.”

As the psalm closes, it’s a prayer: “May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you” (v. 22). I make this my prayer today, standing on that hill in my mind, the wind carrying my words heavenward. I see my life—imperfect, messy, but held by a God who paints skies and calms seas. I choose to hope, to sing, to trust.

Reflection:

Take a moment to step outside or look out a window. Notice one piece of creation—a tree, a cloud, a star. Let it remind you of God’s power and love. Write or speak a one-sentence prayer, offering your own song of trust to Him.

Grief and the Christian Faith

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Grief is an inescapable reality in a fallen world. The sting of loss — whether through broken relationships, death or shattered dreams — cuts deeply into the human soul. Yet, for the Christian, grief is not a solitary or hopeless journey. It is a journey walked under the sovereign hand of God, illuminated by the promises of Scripture< and sustained by the hope of Christ’s victory over sin and death.

The Bible does not shy away from the rawness of grief. From the anguished cries of Job (Job 3:11) to David’s lament over his fallen son (2 Samuel 18:33), Scripture acknowledges that sorrow is a natural response to loss. The Christian perspective begins with the foundational truth of the Fall: sin has fractured God’s good creation, bringing death and decay into the world (Genesis 3:17-19, Romans 5:12). Grief, then, 7is not an anomaly but a consequence of living in a world marred by sin. It is a reminder that things are not as they were meant to be.

Yet, this recognition does not leave us in despair. The Christian faith emphasizes that even in this brokenness, God remains sovereign. Nothing, not even the deepest pain, falls outside His Divine Purpose. In grief, we are invited to trust that God is working, even when His ways are inscrutable.

For the believer in Christ, grief is not borne alone. Psalm 34:18 assures us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” This promise anchors the Christian’s understanding of suffering: God does not abandon His people in their sorrow but draws near to them. Jesus Himself, the Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53:3) entered into human suffering, wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35) and bore our griefs on the cross (Isaish 53:4). In Christ, we find a High Priest who sympathizes with our weakness (Hebrews 4:15), offering comfort that is both divine and deeply personal.

Christian theology underscores that this comfort is not mere sentiment, but a reality rooted in God’s covenant faithfulness. He has promised never to leave or forsake his people (Deuteronomy 31:6, Hebrews 13:5). Even in the darkest valley, the Christian can echo David’s confidence: “You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).

While grief is real, it is not the final word. The Christian faith clings tenaciously to the hope of the resurrection and the making of a new Earth where death, sorrow and suffering will be no more. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 that believers “do not grieve as others who have no hope.” This does not mean that Christians avoid tears or suppress sorrow — Jesus Himself wept — but that their grief is tempered by the certainty of Christ’s triumph over death. Because Jesus rose from the grave, those who are united to Him by faith will also rise (1 Corinthians 15:20-22). Death has been defeated, and the day is coming when “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21:4) when the new heavens and earth are created for us.

This hope reshapes how we mourn. Loss is temporary; reunion is eternal. For the Christian, grieving is an act of waiting — waiting until the fulfillment of God’s promises will come to pass. The promises of removing the curse of sin and restoring creation to how it should be.

Grieving as a Christian involves both lament and trust. Lament is not a sign of weak faith, but a biblical response to pain. The Psalms are filled with cries of anguish – “How long O Lord?” (Psalm 13:1) – that model honest wrestling before God. We are free to pour out our hearts, knowing that He hears and cares. At the same time, trust in God’s sovereignty and goodness steadies us. Romans 8:28 assures us that “for those who love God all things work together for good.” This does not erase pain but reframes it within God’s redemptive plan.

Practically this might mean weeping over a loved one’s death while clinging to the promise of eternal life. It might mean wrestling with unanswered questions while resting in the truth that God’s wisdom surpasses our own (Isaiah 55:8-9). It is a posture of humility, acknowledging our limits and God’s infinite goodness.

Finally, the Christian faith emphasizes that grief is not meant to be endured alone. The church, as the body of Christ, is called to “weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). Fellowship with other believers provides tangible support – prayers, meals or simply a listening ear. Moreover, God has given us the means of grace – Scripture, prayer and the sacraments – to sustain us in sorrow. The Word reminds us of God’s promises, prayer draws us into His presence, and Communion offers a foretaste of the heavenly banquet where all tears will cease.

Grieving as a Christian is a paradox. It is sorrow mingled with hope; lament tempered by trust. We mourn deeply because we love deeply, yet we lift our eyes to the One who hold all things in His hands. In the end, our grief is not the end. Christ is risen, God is Sovereign, and the day of restoration draws near. Until then, we grieve as those who belong to Him, resting in His unfailing love and looking forward to the dawn when mourning will give way to everlasting joy.

A Heart Hungry To Worship Part 7

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I have come to know a God whose Son made prodigals the heroes of His stories and the trophies of His ministry.[1]

Chapter 6

The Prodigal’s Story

Jesus told a story of a young man that many people consider one of the greatest short stories of all time. It’s very familiar to many people because it is included in several high school literature books as well as the New Testament. Many of us can identify with one or more of the main characters. If you’re not familiar with this story, please take the time now to read it.

It seems that this ordinary family, a family that, while not rich, certainly was financially comfortable. The father and his two boys worked the family business, which had become profitable. One of the brothers worked diligently, if not happily, doing his duty. The younger brother worked resentfully, thinking it beneath his station in life.

Tiring of the daily toil, he demanded that his father give him the share of the inheritance he would receive after his father’s death. In those days, the custom was that the eldest brother would receive a double share and ownership of the business. Perhaps there was conflict between the siblings – the last part of the story hints at this. Maybe the older brother continually reminded his younger brother that he would one-day work for him. We don’t know what precipitated the demand from the youngest son but it occurred.

The audience that Jesus told the story to was shocked. In their society, this was a grievous affront, a huge sign of disrespect. It was as if the young man had said, “I cannot wait for you to die. Give me my share of your money right now. That’s all I want from you.” His words show not only greed, but also a complete sense of selfishness and disloyalty to his family. He wants to get away from them so bad that he doesn’t even plan to return for his father’s funeral or the reading of his will. He wants what is his and to rid himself of all ties to his family.

Instead of arguing with his son, the father accedes to the demand. He gives his son the money and watches him walk away. He sees his son leave behind his family, his heritage, and his faith. The father longs and hopes that his son will return, but knows it will take a change of heart for that to happen. He keeps watch for that day, praying that God will draw him back one day, someway, somehow.

So many families can relate to this portrayal. Many parents have helplessly watched their child sever ties with them and all for which they stand. They’ve seen their child reject their values and the faith they instilled in them. Many parents hear harsh and rash words spoken by a child storming off, leaving them watching and hoping for their safe return. Like Renaldo going off on his own, leaving behind the faith of his grandmother and her home, this prodigal abandons his father’s house.

The young man decides that since he is out from under the oppressive rule of his father, he’ll live his life as he has always dreamed of living it. Immediately, he goes to the big city, a place where the action is. No more denying his desires; now, he will fulfill his every longing. He finds friends easily; at least, the kind money can buy. He lives a wild life of pleasure and partying. He’s the master of his destiny; he’s charting his own course in life. The story doesn’t tell us how long his life went on like this.  It apparently was long enough so that his family thought he was dead. Eventually, of course, his money runs out. When that occurs, the young man begins to realize just who his true friends are – no one.

He is alone in the city. He has no relatives, no friends, and no income. His prospects for employment are limited by the fact that he doesn’t have a place of his own and by his limited skills. He grew up in a rural setting. He underwent no training in any area where he might find an apprenticeship. His work ethic and lifestyle were not likely to garner anyone taking a chance on hiring him. Added to that, the entire country was in the midst of a famine. For an agrarian society, this would have sent the country into a deep recession, if not an outright depression. There were no jobs available. In desperation, he took the only job for which he is qualified – feeding animals on a farm. It is amazing (and ironic) how taking control of his own life led him to one that was eerily similar to the one he’d left behind.

So many people fail to realize that changing locations in order to start over will not help them if they don’t change too. A person brings their baggage with them to a new location and soon their new life becomes just as miserable as the one they left behind. This young man’s destiny, the course of life he has charted, has just shipwrecked itself on an island of despair.

There is very little food to eat, because of the famine. What livestock are left have become valuable. Animals such as pigs, which eat almost anything, are very valuable, much more so than the hired servant who feeds them. The animals feed first, then the servants. Very soon, he realizes that he has hit rock bottom. He is starving. He has messed his life up beyond his ability to repair the damage. He looks back at his childhood, to the years spent working for his father. The things that he had thought were so terrible now seem so much better than his present circumstances. He also remembers how he left his father. He remembers the words he said, the actions he took. He realizes that in severing all ties with his family he has cut himself off from the one person who might be able to help him. Like Renaldo, he desires to start over again but is not sure how to do it.

Finally, this prodigal decides that he will return home. He knows that he no longer has any claim on his father’s possessions. He realizes that in renouncing his family he has no right to expect them to welcome his return. He does hope that his father will hire him as a servant. At least, he figures, he will not starve to death. He knows how his father treats his hired hands, their wages, and their living conditions. It’s far better than where he finds himself at present.  Steeling his resolve, he sets out for home.

The Scriptures tell us that while the prodigal was still a long way off, his father spied him trudging down the road. The father’s love for his son hasn’t diminished. Though his son’s actions deeply hurt him, his love never wavered. He runs to his son, wraps his arms around him and kisses him.

The prodigal is deeply ashamed of himself. He is ashamed of all he has done. In humility, he tells his father, “I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”[2] His father, though, gives him a new change of clothes, a ring identifying him as a member of the family and orders a feast prepared. He is restoring his son to the family.

The prodigal will have to live with the consequences of his actions. He cannot erase the past. He no longer has a share of the inheritance. What he has, though, is a restored relationship with his father.

The prodigal and Renaldo share some things. Both of them left a good, stable home. Both Renaldo and the prodigal wanted to experience all that life had to offer, free of restraints. Both of them found that their lives did not turn out the way that they had planned. The prodigal found he was stranded in another country, starving and bankrupt. Renaldo found himself with two failed marriages and no ability to keep a steady job. Both of them realized they messed up their lives and couldn’t do anything to extricate them from where they were.

The Holy Spirit sometimes must completely break a person before they will acknowledge that they need help. This was the case with Renaldo and the prodigal. The Holy Spirit arranged circumstances in both lives to draw them into a relationship. The Holy Spirit acts and the prodigal is restored to his father; Renaldo, to God the Father.

Lance also had to be broken by the Holy Spirit. His heart, who felt no regret for using and taking advantage of people, had to be changed. When Lance repented and asked for forgiveness, he found it and his relationship with both God and the church restored.

The Spirit continues to use circumstances to draw people’s hearts to worship God. It would be a shame if He has to go to the lengths with you as He did with the prodigal. It is comforting, though, to know that He will go that far to bring you into a relationship with God the Father. How far away, from God, are you right now? How out of control is your life? Is it beyond your ability to fix? What is keeping you from turning your life over to God right now by receiving Jesus Christ as your Savior?

[1] Philip Yancy, What Good is God?: In Search of a Faith That Matters

[2] Luke 15:21

Hymn Devotions Day 22 – Rescue the Perishing

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DAY 22 – RESCUE THE PERISHING

               This hymn shows me what attitude I need to have toward those who do not yet know Jesus. They are spiritually dead as well as physically dying, headed toward a Christ-less eternity. My heart should break for them and my recognition of their state should spur me to action.

I must tell them of a Savior. I must introduce them to my Lord. It is my duty. I am to see the world through Jesus’ eyes and do the work He commissioned me to do.

It is amazing to me that many times it is those who seem the furthest away from God are the ones who accept His offer of salvation the quickest. Even though they are insulting Him, denying Him, His Spirit continues to work on their heart, melting their stone cold indifference.

His grace penetrates, quickens, brings about a restoration of life to a dead soul. How beautiful it is remade, reborn.  What a wonderful privilege we have, to be part of His divine plan to bring a lost one into the fold of salvation. Our job is to sow the seed of the Word. The Spirit implants it and causes it to grow, eventually bringing about new life.

Go, cast your seed where the Spirit directs, and who knows, the soul you help rescue may be the one that is dearest to you.

 

Lord, help move us to understand the urgency of sharing Your gospel. Help us to understand the priority of throwing a lifeline, Your Word, to those who are drowning in sin. Help me to be moved with pity and compassion, so that I take my part in Your grand plan of redeeming souls to Yourself.

 

RESCUE THE PERISHING – Fanny J. Crosby

 

Rescue the perishing, care for the dying

Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave

Weep o’er the erring one, lift up the fallen

Tell them of Jesus, the Mighty to save

 

Though they are slighting Him, still He is waiting

Waiting the penitent child to receive

Plead with them earnestly, plead with them gently

He will forgive if they only believe

 

Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter

Feelings lie buried that grace can restore

Touched by a loving heart, weakened by kindness

Chords that are broken will vibrate once more

 

Rescue the perishing, duty demands it

Strength for thy labor the Lord will provide

Back to the narrow way, patiently win them

Tell the poor wanderer a Savior has died

 

REFRAIN

 

Rescue the perishing

Care for the dying

Jesus is merciful

Jesus will save