When the wicked seem to win and justice feels nowhere in sight, fury rises faster than faith. At the close of Psalm 10, God does justice for the fatherless and the oppressed—that’s the firm promise. As we look to that, will we choose faith, or will we choose fury?
Music has a way of dealing with all sorts of struggles, even the ones that come while trying to create with the gifts God gave. You end up feeling like heaven is being forced to marry hell, wondering if God is near or far as you wait. Psalm 10 meets us in exactly that cry.
Do we only come to God when everything’s falling apart—when we’re without a prayer and just need a favor? In Psalm 10, it’s clear God is our Father, not just our favor giver, but too often we approach him only as the latter.
We often walk into church feeling as though we should polish up our pain and act like everything is under control. Psalm 10 gives us a different perspective, making room for the days when evil seems to prosper, God feels distant, and honest faith sounds more broken than triumphant.
We want hope, but we want to know it isn’t empty—especially when other powers seem to have the final say over our lives. In Ephesians 1:20–21, Paul points to God raising Jesus from the dead and seating him above every rule and authority, but do we live as if we believe that?
We can be full of hope and still put that hope in plans, forecasts, and outcomes that never arrive. When disappointment turns us into expert worriers—or convinces us that life will only get worse—we’re reminded to look to our true hope and the Power behind it.
We live in an information age, bombarded with worldly wisdom, theological wisdom, biblical wisdom, and endless “pratical” wisdom for Christian living—and much of it may actually be wise. Yet Paul’s words encourage us to ask: “Does all this knowledge lead us to know God, or have we mistaken knowing things about Him for knowing Him?”
It’s easy to be busy with the Christian life—programs, good intentions, real effort—and still be missing the one thing that keeps it all from exploding. In Ephesians 1:15–16, Paul looks at believers whose faith in Jesus is visibly pouring out as love toward one another, and what he does in response is the piece we most often skip.
We fall into measuring our place with God by how much Scripture we know or how “spiritual” we sound. Paul tells us the real measure is somewhere else: “the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation.” What changes when we remember that the Christian journey began by hearing what God has done not what we do?