I’ve been feeling a bit empty lately. A steady stream of writing and pouring out has left me scratching my head and staring at intimidatingly blank pages in all my journals and notebooks. Sometimes the words don’t come, no matter how hard I press down the pen.
So I go back to what fills me up.
A few mornings ago, I was reading in the quiet early morning hours. I sat at my dining room table where a candle flickered because dawn wasn’t quite bright enough and I wasn’t quite awake enough to turn on a glaring overhead light. (Overhead lights ruin everything.) A cup of my favorite Peet’s coffee steamed in that cracked Anthropologie mug I don’t have the heart to throw out. It was barely morning, but I had been struggling to get through any Bible reading all week because the little people in my house have suddenly become early risers. So, in the pale light of a time of day I rarely see, I hunkered down with my Bible and my notebook. It was worth every minute of sacrificed sleep.
Here, I’m inviting you to take a closer look at what the Lord’s been teaching me from those precious early morning hours. I don’t have to give you something new. I just have to help you move your line of vision to include, to be filled with, to see Jesus as the best and the biggest. That’s always my goal in writing.
Sometime between 1000 and 950 B.C., a strong, beloved, and famous king ran away from his son.1 From town to town, stronghold to stronghold, wilderness to wilderness he fled from his selfish, murdering son who was in process of stealing his throne and the allegiance of his kingdom. With every threat to his safety, he packed up and moved on to a new place, and I feel sure that he woke during the nights in a cold sweat as his body remembered how to run for his life. Running wasn’t new for David. He’d learned to run as a young man when his own jealous king felt threatened by David’s rising popularity and renown in battle.2
David ran a lot. As a result, He also prayed a lot.
In a sermon from 1890, C. H. Spurgeon said this: “If [David] had prayed half as much when he was in the palace as he did when he was in the cave, it would have been better for him.”3 This is true enough when we remember David’s roaming eye when he spent too much time at the palace.
Nevertheless, David did his best praying and some of his best psalm writing when he was wrestling with the direst of circumstances. You know how that is. It’s when we find ourselves down at the very bottom of broken down desperate that we actually realize we’re desperate, though the truth is we’re always that desperate for the Lord. For some stubborn reason that stems from our innately human ignorance, it takes pain and fear to help us remember that we’re always acutely needy for God to simply hold our bodies and minds together. We know we need Him. Sometimes we just know it better.
It’s uncertain as to whether Psalm 63 was written when David was running from King Saul or from his own son Absalom. Either way, David was running for his life. And in a posture of humility and distress, David penned the familiar words of this psalm, communicating a desperation for God so gritty and authentic that you can feel his dry thirst in your own mouth.
“God, You are my God; I eagerly seek You. I thirst for You; my body faints for You in a land that is dry, desolate, and without water.” (63:1)
As I jotted down in my margin, that’s some serious desperation. So what does he do when he’s down at the bottom of desperation? He looks up.
“So I gaze on You in the sanctuary to see Your strength and Your glory.” (63:2)
Robert Murray M’Cheyne said this: “For every look at self, take ten looks at Christ.”
Though David predates M’Cheyne by centuries of redemptive history, I think that’s what David does in verse 2. He looks up to Yahweh. Maybe not physically, but in his heart he takes a posture of humility. Rather than focusing on his circumstances (which even he admits were pretty bad), he focuses instead on who God is, reminding himself of God’s attributes as he praises God for them.
“My lips will glorify You because Your faithful love is better than life. So I will praise You as long as I live; at Your name, I will lift up my hands. You satisfy me as with rich food; my mouth will praise You with joyful lips.” (63:3-5)
In complete juxtaposition to verse 1, David overflows with praise for the satisfaction he gets from God. Though he was so thirsty, so dry, so needy, once he is reminded of who God is he finds deep satisfaction in God’s covenant, faithful love for him. Love, he says, that is better than life itself–which he gets to say with some authority because he was on the verge of losing his life when inspired to write this psalm. The words “rich food” are meant to evoke the feeling of being more than full. The Lord satisfies beyond normal levels of fullness. That’s overflowing, faithful, soul-filling goodness. Sometimes I pray just to survive, but God gives more than that. His goodness is not encapsulated in merely surviving hard times, though at times that’s all I have the mental space to pray for. His faithfulness is more than that.
It stretches to the skies.
It overflows normal boundaries of closeness.
It is not measurable.
Though in hiding, David thinks about Yahweh during the night and meditates on his goodness. He actually finds joy in taking cover under the Lord’s protection. Though fearful, he finds joy in the presence of the Lord. And therein is one of the most prevalent and best promises we have from God: His presence. David didn’t know of Jesus; he only hoped for Him. On this side of the cross and the resurrection, however, we have an even closer, more personal manifestation of His presence in the person of the Holy Spirit who resides within the believer. The promise of His presence is everything we need to climb through the caves and press through the wildernesses of desperation.
Tucked near the end of Psalm 63 and right before David’s thoughts on what would happen to his enemies (who he seemed to think had what was coming to them), is a pearl of a verse that has lodged itself in my mind, I hope, forever.
“I follow close to You; Your right hand holds on to me.” (63:8)
When you take apart this Psalm and look at what it teaches about who God is, then you absolutely want to say with David, “I follow close to You.” It’s like Peter said to Jesus, “Where else can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”4 And here’s why David was able to follow close: because the Lord’s strong right hand held on to him. He held on to the Father because the Father held on to him.
Intertwined with faith is grace, and we can follow closely because we’ve been held closely. Share on X
The Apostle Paul said it this way: “…I make every effort to take hold of [knowing Christ] because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12)
Sometimes when I’m reading Scripture, everything comes sharply into focus and for a moment I can see much clearer that it is God’s faithful love for His people that propels them to persevere. He is the One who loves first and shows grace long. In my weakness I want to follow close, but sometimes I can’t take my eyes off my circumstances. Look up, He says. See My strength, see My glory.
With His strong, right arm He holds on to me. And I follow close.
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1 2 Samuel 15-18
2 1 Samuel 22-24
3 Spurgeon, C.H. “David’s Prayer in the Cave”, May 18, 1890.
4 John 6:68
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
God is truly so good- sometimes in the midst of everything I loose sight of that truth. Thank you for this- I needed to read this!