478_More than conquerors

Psalm 44:1-8 O God, we have heard with our ears,
our fathers have told us,
what deeds you performed in their days,
in the days of old:
2 you with your own hand drove out the nations,
but them you planted;
you afflicted the peoples,
but them you set free;
3 for not by their own sword did they win the land,
nor did their own arm save them,
but your right hand and your arm,
and the light of your face,
for you delighted in them.

4 You are my King, O God;
ordain salvation for Jacob!
5 Through you we push down our foes;
through your name we tread down those who rise up against us.
6 For not in my bow do I trust,
nor can my sword save me.
7 But you have saved us from our foes
and have put to shame those who hate us.
8 In God we have boasted continually,
and we will give thanks to your name forever.

20-26 If we had forgotten the name of our God
or spread out our hands to a foreign god,
21 would not God discover this?
For he knows the secrets of the heart.
22 Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long;
we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.

23 Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord?
Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!
24 Why do you hide your face?
Why do you forget our affliction and oppression?
25 For our soul is bowed down to the dust;
our belly clings to the ground.
26 Rise up; come to our help!
Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!

A few years ago, a young missionary couple moved to a remote village in Southeast Asia. They had left behind comfort, career, and family, believing with all their hearts that God had called them to bring the gospel to an unreached tribe. They worked tirelessly—learning the language, caring for the sick, teaching the children, and sharing the good news. But after five years, the fruit they had hoped for never came. The few converts they had were threatened or driven away, their presence was mocked by villagers, and eventually, they were asked to leave. As they boarded the boat in silence, hearts heavy with defeat, the wife turned to her husband and whispered, “Did we fail?”

That question echoes the same bewilderment and pain found in Psalm 44. This is not a psalm of personal complaint or individual struggle. It’s the voice of a people—a community of God’s own, grappling with a painful and public defeat. The nation of Israel had known what it was like to be chosen, loved, and delivered by the Lord. Their history was filled with divine intervention and supernatural victories. They remembered how the Promised Land had been given to them, not by the strength of their armies, but by the power of God who fought on their behalf. The psalmist begins with a remembrance of this rich heritage, “It was not by their sword that they won the land, but it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you delighted in them.”

The psalmist is not merely reminiscing. He is laying down the foundation of his plea. His argument in prayer is built on the past faithfulness of God. If God had delighted in His people then, why the silence now? This is not nostalgia; it’s a protest of faith. A faith that refuses to give up simply because present circumstances seem to contradict God’s promises.

He then boldly affirms that God is still his King. He places his hope not in military power or political strategy, but in the sovereignty of God. “I do not trust in my bow,” he writes, “nor does my sword bring me victory; but you give us victory over our enemies.” It’s a powerful confession. Despite the defeat, the writer’s heart is still anchored in God. “In God we have boasted continually, and we will give thanks to your name forever.”

Yet this reminder of God’s love and power turns into lament. “But now,” the psalmist says, “you have rejected and humbled us.” They had trusted in God, but instead of deliverance, they experienced disgrace. “You have made us like sheep for slaughter,” he says, “and scattered us among the nations.” These are not words of casual discouragement. God’s people had become a byword among the nations—a joke, an object of ridicule.

Unlike many other times in Israel’s history, this calamity didn’t follow rebellion. “All this has come upon us, though we have not forgotten you or been false to your covenant.” Their hearts had not turned away, nor their hearts strayed from God’s path.
Then comes the verse Paul quotes centuries later: “Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” This isn’t just poetic exaggeration. It’s a real, felt experience of unjust persecution. The writer doesn’t see the suffering as meaningless; he sees it as something endured precisely because they belong to God.

The psalm ends with a desperate plea: “Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!” It’s an appeal, not based on merit but on the covenant love of God—the hesed, the loyal, steadfast love that never lets go.

These words, in Romans 8, are transmuted into hope. He takes the darkest verse of the psalm—the one that acknowledges suffering for God’s sake—and wraps it in unshakeable hope. Paul lists every possible trial that could threaten to undo a believer: tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, and sword. Then, after quoting Psalm 44:22, he declares, “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

Romans 8 assures us that this suffering, though real and deep, is not a sign of separation from God’s love but the very context in which His love is proved and perfected. The enemy may laugh. The world may scoff. Our own hearts may sometimes tremble. But the truth remains: nothing—absolutely nothing—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Notice Paul doesn’t claim that they are spared from these things. He doesn’t promise an easier road. He does declare that in all these things—in the tribulation, in the distress, in the danger—we are more than conquerors. Not through our endurance, not through our strength, but through Him who loved us.

This is the paradox of the Christian life. We conquer in defeat, and overcome while we are crushed. We rise by dying with Christ – it is what he has already done. He walked the same road. He too was “like a sheep led to the slaughter.” He too was mocked, beaten, and rejected. But through the cross, He triumphed. And now, because we are united to Him, His victory becomes our victory.

That young missionary couple eventually settled in another village. Years passed, and one day, a man from the original village visited them. They heard, with tears of joy, that a small group of believers had emerged. They had been worshipping in secret. The apparent defeat had, in God’s unseen ways, produced lasting fruit.

So often, what looks like failure in the eyes of the world is actually more than victory. Psalm 44 invites us into that tension—between remembering God’s past faithfulness and wrestling with present pain. It encourages us to cry out to the God of steadfast love, even when we don’t understand why we suffer.

When our suffering leaves us feeling confused, shamed, and abandoned, let us remember what God has done in the past. Let us remember what Christ has done on the cross, and cling to His promises.

The story isn’t over. Even if it seems like we’ve obeyed and been met with ridicule and failure, God is not finished. To the churches in Revelation, the Lord offers multiple rewards, to those who conquer. The call is not to understand everything but to have faith. The call is to hold His hand and keep walking.

In Christ, we are more than conquerors. Let that truth shape our prayers, steady our hearts, and encourage us to face the bitterest humiliation. The crown belongs to those who conquer—and we do conquer through Him who loved us. God bless.