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This post was inspired by author and Bible teacher Kathleen Nielsen

Psalm 77 is a classic lament which moves from despair to remembrance to confident faith. The key word that connects each part is hand. Let’s look at those connections.

I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.

Asaph’s lament begins with raw despair. You can almost picture the physical agony that accompanies his prayer. Though his words reflect faith – he will hear me – his body reflects the misery of a saint who has poured his heart out to God and experienced a deafening silence in return. He is confused and in danger of losing heart. But his hand is stretched out. To where? To whom? To God.

Asaph will go on in verses 4-9 to look back – remembering, meditating, and questioning. His soul torment is so intense that he begins to wonder if God’s promises are at an end.

But then the turn comes. In almost every lament psalm there is a turn, a point at which the psalmist calls to mind God’s character and his former deliverances. This is what happens for Asaph. In the midst of his questions he turns.

Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.

In verse 3 Asaph remembered God. He meditated. But the result was moaning and fainting. How has his remembering and meditation changed? It’s hard to tell and isn’t that the case with all of us? There are no magic prayers in the life of faith. No silver bullets that bring us out of the darkness and into the light. In most cases, it just takes time. Asaph’s hand was stretched out without wearying, night after night. And finally he takes hold of the right hand of the Most High.

Have you ever noticed how often God’s right hand is mentioned in the Bible? It never mentions his left hand. But God doesn’t have a physical body, so what does it mean? The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary explains that God’s right hand is a central symbol in Scripture that points to God’s saving power and deliverance, his protection and support. And what Asaph calls to mind in the following verses is the most powerful demonstration of God’s saving might – the Exodus.

The Exodus is the paramount prototype of God’s salvation in the Bible. And Asaph remembers it in stunning detail. He says God is holy, he is great, he is mighty in his redemptive work. And then he recounts God’s wonders in opening the sea – the trembling waters, the crashing thunder, and the flashes of lightning that shook the earth. If the earth responds in such a way to God’s right hand, Asaph has nothing to fear.

But there is one more hand.

Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

God works miracles, but he also uses people to bring us through the deep darknesses of this life.

This is how Psalm 77 ends. Asaph’s unwearied and outstretched hand from verse 1 has waited and taken hold of God’s right hand of deliverance. And although I can’t prove this, I imagine that after pondering God’s mighty works of the past, Asaph has found rest in the present and a confident expectation of God’s continued merciful provision.

The year 1637 produced a mass of letters from Rutherford’s pen. If my math is correct, he wrote 204 letters during that year. In these letters he often laments of the severe imbalance between his condition as a perpetually needy and sinful man and the infinite resources of grace that Christ is more than willing to lavish on us. There is no way to make this up. We keep coming to Christ and taking from him, and he keeps giving and giving and giving again.

But I find Christ to be Christ, and that He is far, far, even infinite heavens’ height above men; and that is all our happiness. Sinners can do nothing but make wounds, that Christ may heal them; and make debts, that He may pay them; and make falls, that He may raise them; and make deaths, that He may quicken them; and spin out and dig hells for themselves, that He may ransom them.

God is all sufficient. We can never give something to God that he might be repaid. We can’t impress him. As Rutherford says in another letter, all we have to give him is emptiness and want. And the Lord is not ashamed or unwilling to continually fill us.

Now, I will bless the Lord that ever there was such a thing as the free grace of God, and a free ransom given for sold souls: only, alas! guiltiness maketh me ashamed to apply to Christ, and to think it pride in me to put out my unclean and withered hand to such a Saviour. But it is neither shame nor pride for a drowning man to swim to a rock, nor for a shipbroken soul to run himself ashore upon Christ.

How worthy a savior is Christ! But how little is my love to him in comparison. He is worthy of everything and anything I can give him. He is even worthy of all the suffering I endure for him, for even this comes from his sovereign hand of steadfast love. At the end of the day, we must be content to live in this place of perpetual imbalance. And that is the way it should be, for there is no merit in us, only in Christ.

Wo, wo is me! I have a lover Christ, and yet I want love for Him! I have a lovely and desirable Lord, who is love-worthy, and who beggeth my love and heart, and I have nothing to give Him!

As we think on this imbalance, let it not lead us to inward to despair but upward in worship. We worship a God who is an infinite and unending fountain of grace. We will never drain him of his mercies and we can always boldly apply to his throne for the help we need.

Samuel Rutherford had a lot of time to think while under house arrest and away from his beloved parish. (If you haven’t followed along in my Sunday series on this man, go here and here to read more.) He wrote often of heaven and lingered over the contrast between our glorious hope above and the empty pleasures of this perishing world. While reading his letters you may suspect him of taking no pleasure in the world. He compares the pleasures here on earth to mere feathers that children chase.

There is a familiar accusation that some are so heavenly minded that they are of no earthly good. I don’t think we’re in danger of being charged guilty. More likely, we are so earthly minded that we take little thought of heaven, except maybe at funerals. Which is worse?

Perhaps a more heavenly mindset would make us of greater value to our neighbors and our community if we seriously pondered the weight of eternal glory that is being prepared for us. Only then can we properly consider and enjoy the pleasures of this world. Only then will our hearts be properly burdened for our lost family, neighbors and friends who are chasing feathers but headed to destruction. Anything good and true here is but a foretaste of the all surpassing beauty that awaits us in the New Jerusalem. Should we not prepare our souls more for the transition into this high definition world of glory? Truly, we should examine ourselves to see if we are in the faith. Additionally, we should daily seek opportunities to show those around us, by our words and deeds and lives, what they will miss if they refuse to come to Jesus.

Nay, I think that this world, at its prime and perfection, when it is come to the top of its excellency and to the bloom, might be bought with an halfpenny; and that it would scarce weigh the worth of a drink of water.

If we saw our Father’s house, and that great and fair city, the New Jerusalem, which is up above sun and moon, we would cry to be over the water, and to be carried in Christ’s arms out of this borrowed prison.

Samuel Rutherford, 1637

I came to faith in college and God soon gave me a hunger to know his Word and understand theology. Back in the 90s there was a little Christian bookstore in my college town and I remember purchasing this behemoth.

I think it weighs more than five pounds. But I loved this thing and eagerly scoured its pages looking for insights into the Scripture that I thought were hidden in the English translations. “What did the Greek and Hebrew really mean?” This concordance was going to give me the answers.

Fast forward about 30 years and I find myself on the other side of three semesters of Hebrew in seminary. Those first few classes were like being thrown into the deep end of a pool and I could barely keep my head above water. It didn’t help that the class was held from 6-9 pm. Who can learn an ancient language effectively at night!? I remember coming home after that first class, bleary eyed and dejected, not even understanding how the letters of the alphabet were formed. If I couldn’t recognize the difference between a dalet (ד) and a resh (ר) how was I going to do this? A couple students dropped out after that first class, but about seven of us kept going, soon getting used to leaving a lecture completely lost, but assured that our understanding would catch up in a couple weeks. Hopefully.

The learning curve was steep, but in the beginning of learning, excitement and discovery can be intoxicating. You may think you’ve been given a secret key to unlock deeper meanings. However, the author of our textbook, William Fullilove, wisely warns the beginning student – “A little knowledge of Hebrew can be a dangerous thing!”

As I’ve advanced in my language learning, I’ve seen how complex and serious a task it is to translate the Bible from its originals languages. There are many internal scholarly debates that a layperson has no knowledge of. You may learn one aspect of the Hebrew verbal system but there are six others! Do you know how each of them operate? Do you realize that Hebrew has changed over time and so sometimes later texts in the OT use the language in different ways than earlier texts?

That behemoth of a concordance helped me in many ways, especially before the advent of computer technology and sophisticated Bible software. But to think that I could accurately understand the meaning of a Hebrew word from the list given to me at the back of the book was naive at best. It’s not a matter of seeing the various choices and picking which one I like best. Word meaning is determined from the surrounding literary context among many other factors.

The other night I was chatting with my Hebrew professor after class and I admitted that I still felt like I was in kindergarten regarding my understanding, even after three semesters of the language. He graciously offered, “I think you could consider yourself in fourth grade.” I can take a little comfort in that remark, but am still humbled by how complex and beautiful this language is. There is still so much to learn.

Trust the translators. They have done a great job. And if you will never learn Hebrew or Greek, the best thing to do is work with several translations that seek to stay as close to the original as possible – NASB, ESV and NIV. Compare these and trust that the Word of God has been preserved and he is still speaking.

A few months ago I taught a summary of the book of Judges. It tells the story of Israel’s failure to be faithful to the covenant as the generation after Joshua seeks to complete the conquest of Canaan. If we’re honest, this is not one of our top ten favorite Bible books to read. It contains some of the darkest episodes in redemptive history. By the end of the book, it seems all of Israel is living in a state of moral chaos with one whole tribe at risk of being exterminated. Are there any faithful Israelites left? The moral character and actions of the last three major judges – Gideon, Jephthah, and Samson – go from sketchy to worse. But flip over to the New Testament and notice who is mentioned in Hebrews 11:32-34:

And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets – who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight.

One of the mistakes we make in Bible reading is expecting every character to be a hero. I remember the time when I realized I was doing that. I had started reading through the Bible again and wasn’t too far along in Genesis before I sensed a real disappointment in the main characters. I had an expectation for them to behave much better than they were. It raised questions for me. Why did Abraham keep lying about Sarah being his sister? Why was Jacob such a schemer and deceiver? And don’t even mention the story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38. I read that quickly, trying to ignore my questions in order to get to the story of Joseph.

Judges contains a few stellar examples – Othniel, Achsah and Deborah – but many more that trouble us. Some try to dress up Gideon but he just won’t fit the mold of squeaky clean Bible hero as we get to the end of his life and read of his making an ephod that reminds us too much of the incident with the golden calf. Jephthah shows great courage and faith but makes a tragic vow, trying to manipulate God and as a result his daughter becomes the victim. Samson’s birth story gives us hope but very soon we read of his immoral behavior, his vow breaking, and his vengeance taking.

Back to Hebrews 11. Many have nicknamed this chapter “The Hall of Fame of Faith”. I would like to push back on that. We love famous people in America. We have many kinds of halls of fame; a quick search on Wikipedia blew my mind as to all the kinds that exist – everything from sports to accounting to military intelligence to radio. What do those halls of fame celebrate? They celebrate people and their accomplishments. I think too often we read Hebrews 11 as an honor roll of the people of God. Do you remember honor rolls in school? I do. I loved making the honor roll and even more I loved making the distinguished honor roll. Hebrews 11 may begin like the distinguished honor roll of God’s people. These are the people who were really great. Yes, we know of Abraham and Moses’ weaknesses, but these are pillars. It’s not until we get to Gideon, Jephthah and Samson that we may start asking questions.

These questions are good because, at least for me, they have uncovered another way I read the Bible incorrectly and another instance where I assume a merit based salvation. I want to see every Bible character grow consistently in their faith, maturing from one level to the next until they reach a certain pinnacle of godliness at the end of their lives. Wouldn’t that qualify them for the hall of fame of faith? Isn’t that what perseverance is supposed to look like?

Salvation and sanctification are not an unbroken upward trajectory. Faith is not a performance where we earn a report card. If I judge myself and others based on these mistaken assumptions I make a mockery of what Christ accomplished. He performed on my behalf, earning the righteousness that I never could. His merit is all sufficient.

Hebrews 11 is not the distinguished honor roll of faith. It’s not a hall of fame that exalts the accomplishments of God’s people. The point of Hebrews 11 is to exalt the enduring value of faith, for without it we cannot please God (v. 6). Faith may, and should, result in good deeds, but the essence of faith is not looking ourselves but Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (see Hebrews 12:1-3). For at its root, faith doesn’t even originate with us, but is a gracious gift of God (see Ephesians 2:8-9).

Each Sunday I read a bit of Samuel Rutherford’s letters. I’ve been doing this for over a year and am just over halfway done. The man was prolific in his letter writing. The two letters I read last Sunday morning were intriguing in the seemingly contrasting advice he gives to two of his friends. They were both written in 1637. He says to the first:

It is time, and high time, for you to think upon death and your accounts, and to remember what ye are, and where ye will be before the year of our Lord 1700. I hope ye are thinking upon this. Pull at your soul, and draw it aside from the company that it is with and round, and whisper into it news of eternity, death, judgment, heaven, and hell.

I don’t know about you, but I have never had a friend write to me and exhort that I think more on my own death. These words from Rutherford seem very strange to our modern ears. The messages of 2026, especially in the new year, are all about denying and defying our own death. But if this life is just a shadow of things to come and our true home is in heaven, shouldn’t we think more about our death and what (and Who!) awaits us in eternity? Some of you may have had a loved one die in 2025. My mother died in August. I thought she had more time. None of us knows how much time we have.

The next letter focuses on Christ’s love and how little we know of it. Rutherford describes his longings like a lover whose only desire is to be closer to his beloved. He knows there are depths beyond his imagination. So he advises his friend:

However matters go, it is our happiness to win new ground daily in Christ’s love, and to purchase a new piece of it daily, and to add conquest to conquest, till our Lord Jesus and we be so near each other, that Satan shall not draw a straw or a thread betwixt us.

To one friend he says to think upon death and eternity. To another he says to strive daily in knowing more of Christ’s love. These two may seem to be at odds, but upon further reflection I see the complementarity. Rutherford’s striving to know more of Christ’s love is impeded by this world and his own sin. It is blocked because he is not yet in Christ’s presence. He has not yet found ultimate rest in his true eternal dwelling place. So to win more of Christ’s love daily is actually a way of preparing us for our death. Drinking more deeply of the sweetness of Christ now will help us turn away from the “dead waters” that the world offers and prepare us for the feast to come when all will be a “banquet of aged wine.” (see Isaiah 25:6) We are closer now in 2026 than we were at this time last year. As you look down the corridor of another new year, place eternity and the consummation of Christ’s love before your eyes. See how it changes your priorities.

I think I’ve written on this psalm at least four times. You can read those here, here, here and here. But the lessons it contains keep coming back, and after I wrote on hope a few Sundays ago, I realized Psalm 131 had more to say about that. Here is another meditative reflection:

Hope is a heart unpuffed,
Eyes undistracted by lofty pursuits.

Rather – Hope is a peaceful trust,
Content in the bosom of the Father,
Hearing His heartbeat,
Aligning its will with His.

Hope has many faces –

Straining expectancy,
Full of confidence in future joy.

Steadfast waiting
In the present dimness,
The fog of a weary world.

And this –
Childlike trust,
Admitting its inability
To untangle life’s problems,
Yet knowing the One
Who will make all things right.