Psalm 77:1–9, June 18, 2025 (Wednesday)

During the youth retreat

Psalm 77:1–2 (NIV)1 I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me.2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands, and I would not be comforted.

After a whirlwind of events, I’ve finally returned to the rhythm of everyday life. It feels a bit awkward to be writing and sharing morning devotions again after some time away. While our youth are off at their retreat, I find myself filled with a mixture of curiosity, concern, and hope—checking in now and then to see how they’re doing. Today’s devotion feels a little like that too: a blend of anticipation and worry as I prepare it.

Fittingly, today’s passage is the song of a psalmist who cries out to a silent God, burdened with lament. It is attributed to Asaph, who, from what we know, was someone who prayed to God with deep honesty. His words express frustration—perhaps even resentment—toward God’s silence. And yet, this kind of unfiltered honesty may be exactly what is required of our emotional intimacy with God today.

Silence makes us uneasy. It opens the door to anxiety, worry, and even imagined fears that feel all too real. But when an answer we’ve long hoped for finally comes, it can fill our lives with hope so suddenly, we almost forget the fear that came before it.

Someone once said that life is about worrying over things that haven’t even happened yet. And in truth, we often face the future by holding onto our fears—worries about school, friends, finances, our parents, our children. Life is shaped by our anxieties. So when God remains silent in the midst of hardship, it can shake even the foundations of our faith.

And yet, Asaph’s lament doesn’t feel like resentment alone. It feels like a prayer filled with longing and hope. He pours out his heart honestly before God. His prayer resonates because he doesn’t let go—he even lifts up his temptation to give up as a prayer to God. And that is what opens our eyes.

It’s not in times of ease that our prayers grow deep—it is in suffering that the depth of our prayer takes shape. That is the life of a Christian, and the form our prayers often take. And today, we are in a time when deep prayer is needed more than ever: a prayer that longs for war to cease, for peace to return, and for humanity to recover the nobility of self-sacrifice for the sake of one another.

Reflection

The moments of deepest pain are often the moments we are closest to God.

Intercessory Prayer

• Today, a team hired by the Orinda Fire Department will be coming to chip the trees we’ve cut. Please pray that all the work will be completed safely and smoothly.

• Our youth are returning from their retreat today. Please pray for a peaceful and safe journey back.

• Yesterday, cucumbers and tomatoes were planted in the church garden. Let’s care for them with love so they may grow well. There’s still plenty of space to be filled.