Psalms 11–16

Scripture Reading: Psalm 11:1-7, Psalm 12:1-8, Psalm 13:1-6, Psalm 14:1-7, Psalm 15:1-5, Psalm 16:1-11

One of the things I miss most about childhood is the sheer excitement and anticipation I felt about so many things.

I remember the night before Christmas, trying to stay awake just to hear footsteps in the hallway. I miss the butterflies before a new school year or even the simple thrill of a friend coming over to play. I lived each day in joyful expectation—hearts full and eyes wide open.

But these days? That anticipation has been replaced with a lot of anxious waiting. I’ve become a lot more familiar with sleepless nights hoping for answers, the frustration of wanting change but not seeing it yet. The heaviness of wondering when, or if, God will move.

Maybe you know the feeling too? It’s the quiet ache of waiting, the weight of wondering and the whispered question: God…how long?

David prayed those same words in Psalm 13. “How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1). It sounds dramatic—until you’ve lived it. Until you’ve pleaded for clarity, reached for peace, and still felt like heaven was quiet.

David knew what it was to wrestle with anxious thoughts in the dark, to carry burdens he couldn’t fix and feel pressed in by fear and still choose trust.

But I have trusted in your faithful love; my heart will rejoice in your deliverance.
—Psalm 13:5

David went through a lot in his life. But in his struggle, he remembered who God was: faithful, generous, always working even when the path felt hidden (v.6).

This is what Lent invites us into. It’s not only about remembering and celebrating our salvation, the best gift we could ever receive. It’s also about the practice of honest surrender, admitting our need, and anticipating our Savior who makes all things right again. Lent gently asks us to acknowledge the places where we’ve depended on ourselves, our control, our comfort, our plans—and return to the God who withholds nothing good from His children.

Psalm 13 gives us the opportunity to pause and ask, What am I trusting instead of His faithful love? What am I reaching for to quiet my anxious thoughts? Where am I fighting battles in my strength instead of His? Does my heart still rejoice in the good news of God’s deliverance?

As we remember the cross and look toward the empty tomb, we breathe again this truth: He is faithful. He is near. And because He is faithful, deliverance is coming.

Written by Abby Flynn