570_Experiencing God’s nearness in times of trouble (Psalm 119:145-152)
Psalm 119:145-152 With my whole heart I cry; answer me, O Lord!
I will keep your statutes.
146 I call to you; save me,
that I may observe your testimonies.
147 I rise before dawn and cry for help;
I hope in your words.
148 My eyes are awake before the watches of the night,
that I may meditate on your promise.
149 Hear my voice according to your steadfast love;
O Lord, according to your justice give me life.
150 They draw near who persecute me with evil purpose;
they are far from your law.
151 But you are near, O Lord,
and all your commandments are true.
152 Long have I known from your testimonies
that you have founded them forever.
Some years ago, a young woman named Sarah found herself sitting in a hospital waiting room late one night. Her father had suffered a massive heart attack, and the doctors were uncertain whether he would survive till morning. The hospital lights flickered dimly, the corridors were silent, and she felt utterly alone. She had prayed, but her words seemed to vanish into the ceiling. She opened her Bible with trembling hands and her eyes fell on Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” As she read those words, she began to weep. Not tears of despair this time, but of recognition—that even in her darkest hour, she was not alone. God was near.
That night didn’t end with instant healing or miraculous recovery. But Sarah would later say that it was in that waiting room, not in a Sunday service or a joyful celebration, that she first felt the nearness of God—quiet, steady, and real.
The nearness of God is often most deeply experienced not on the mountaintop, but in the valley. It’s not when everything is going well, but when life feels most fragile. This is the heartbeat of Psalm 119:145–152, where the psalmist, in his own distress, discovers that the God who seems far away is actually right beside him.
This section of Psalm 119 records an impassioned cry for help. The psalmist doesn’t disguise his pain or attempt to sound composed. He opens his heart entirely before God:
“With my whole heart I cry; answer me, O Lord! I will keep your statutes. I call to you; save me, that I may observe your testimonies.” (vv. 145–146)
The words “with my whole heart” reveal the intensity of his prayer. This isn’t a half-hearted plea; it’s the cry of a man who has reached the end of his strength. Yet notice something profound: his ultimate desire is not merely deliverance from trouble—it is faithfulness to God. “Save me, that I may observe your testimonies.”
He prays for life, not so that he can return to comfort or ease, but so that he can continue to serve and glorify God. His life revolves around God’s glory, not his own agenda. Even in desperation, his heart remains aligned with God’s purposes.
There’s something beautiful about this. Many of us, when we are in trouble, pray for relief. And that’s natural—God invites us to do so. But the psalmist takes it one step further. His longing is not simply for survival, but for sanctification. He wants to live, so that he might keep God’s word. He seeks salvation not just from danger, but from anything that would keep him from obeying God.
Then he says, “I rise before dawn and cry for help; I hope in your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise.” (vv. 147–148)
Here we see the cost of spiritual intimacy. While others sleep, he seeks God. Sleep becomes secondary to him in his pursuit of divine fellowship. His longing for God’s help drives him to the early hours of the morning. The psalmist’s hope is anchored not in his circumstances but in God’s Word. It is as though he is saying, “Even before the day begins, even before I see any sign of change, my trust is already placed in Your promise.”
It’s easy to hope when things begin to improve. It’s far harder to hope before dawn—before the first glimmer of light, before the breakthrough comes. Yet that is where faith matures. The psalmist finds comfort not in answers, but in God’s character.
He continues, “Hear my voice according to your steadfast love; O Lord, according to your justice give me life.” (v. 149)
Notice the two pillars of his appeal—God’s steadfast love and God’s justice. These two attributes, mercy and righteousness, are often seen as opposites, but in the heart of God they are perfectly united. The psalmist understands that his life depends not on human intervention, but on the covenant faithfulness of God. His confidence is grounded in the fact that God is both loving and just—He will not abandon those who trust in Him.
Then the psalmist acknowledges the reality of his situation: “They draw near who persecute me with evil purpose; they are far from your law.” (v. 150)
Evil seems close—so close that he can almost feel its breath. His enemies are near to harm him. Yet even in this dark contrast comes a declaration of hope: “But you are near, O Lord, and all your commandments are true.” (v. 151)
What a stunning reversal. While the enemies may seem physically close, the psalmist is aware of an even greater nearness—God Himself. The presence of God outweighs the proximity of evil. Trouble may be all around him, but God is within him, beside him, and for him.
In that moment, he experiences the paradox every believer must learn: God’s nearness is not the absence of trouble, but His presence in the midst of it. We often ask God to take us out of our difficulties, but sometimes He chooses instead to walk with us through them.
The psalmist’s enemies are “far from your law,” meaning their hearts are distant from God’s truth. But the psalmist has discovered that the closer one draws to God’s Word, the closer one experiences His presence. When we root ourselves in Scripture, we are never alone.
This nearness is not a vague feeling—it is a tested reality. He concludes, “Long have I known from your testimonies that you have founded them forever.” (v. 152)
Through his experiences, the psalmist has learned the trustworthiness of God’s Word. Time and again, when everything else proved unstable, God’s promises stood firm. They are not temporary or fragile—they are eternal. He has tasted and seen that the Lord is good.
Psalm 25:14 says, “The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him, and he makes known to them his covenant.” And Psalm 34:17–18 reminds us: “When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
The psalmist’s life testifies that these are not just beautiful verses to be memorized—they are realities to be lived.
Here lies the invitation for us today: to experience—not just intellectually believe in—the nearness of God. It is one thing to study the Word and even understand it, but quite another to apply it, to live it out, to allow it to shape our reactions when storms come. The psalmist didn’t merely know about God; he knew God personally, intimately, through obedience and trust in the midst of affliction.
Perhaps you are in a difficult season right now. Maybe, like Sarah in that hospital waiting room, you feel as if your prayers are echoing back in silence. You may be surrounded by uncertainty, fear, or loss. But remember this: even when trouble is near, God is nearer still. His Word assures us that He is close to the brokenhearted, attentive to every cry, and faithful to every promise.
We often think of God’s nearness as something we feel, but the truth is, it’s something we trust. Feelings fluctuate; His presence does not. The psalmist’s confidence wasn’t based on what he could see or feel—it was rooted in what he knew of God’s character. “You are near, O Lord, and all your commandments are true.”
In moments of distress, when life feels unsteady, we are invited to cling to that same truth. God is not distant; He is near to those who call upon Him with their whole heart. He is near when we wake before dawn to cry for help. He is near when enemies surround us. He is near when sleep escapes us and fears overwhelm us. And His Word—tested, proven, eternal—anchors us through every storm.
So, what can we do in response to this? Let’s take a cue from the psalmist. Let us turn our hearts fully toward God. Let our prayers be honest and wholehearted, not polished but sincere. Let us make room, even in our darkest hours, to meditate on His Word—to rise before dawn, to whisper His promises, to remember His faithfulness.
When we do this, we begin to discover something wonderful: the nearness of God is not just a comfort; it becomes our strength. It equips us to face whatever challenges arise, because we know we do not face them alone.
Let us, therefore, cultivate that intimacy with God so that, like the psalmist, we too can confidently say, “But you are near, O Lord, and all your commandments are true.” And may this truth steady our hearts—not only in times of peace, but especially in times of trouble.
For when all else fades, His nearness remains.