577_Looking up to our merciful God (Psalm 123)
Psalm 123 To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
2 Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
till he has mercy upon us.
3 Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us,
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
4 Our soul has had more than enough
of the scorn of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.
A few years ago, a well-known mountaineer described an experience that changed the way he viewed life. After a long and exhausting climb, he finally reached a narrow ledge high above the valley floor. As he caught his breath, he looked down. The thousand-foot drop instantly made his knees weak, and fear tightened around his chest. But when he slowly lifted his eyes upward, he saw something he had not noticed before—the sky was turning gold. The first rays of dawn spread across the horizon, painting the mountains with light. In that moment, he said, “I felt the fear drain out of me. Nothing changed about the danger beneath me. But everything changed when I looked up.”
Sometimes our lives feel like that narrow ledge. There are moments when we feel hemmed in by fear, pressure, contempt, criticism, or uncertainty. The ground beneath us feels unsafe. The future feels unclear. But Psalm 123 invites us to do what that mountaineer did—to look up. It is another one of the Songs of Ascents, sung by the people of Israel as they made their way toward Jerusalem, going up step by step toward the temple of God. In this psalm, the worshiper has arrived at the holy city, but instead of looking at the noise and activity around him, he lifts his eyes higher. He looks to heaven, to the One enthroned above all, the One who reigns and yet cares for the lowliest of His servants.
“I lift up my eyes to you, to you who sit enthroned in the heavens.” These words set the tone for the entire psalm. The psalmist sees God as the King of the whole earth, exalted above every nation, every ruler, every crisis, every mocking voice. Yet he also sees God as a Master who is intimately attentive to His servants. The greatest Sovereign stoops to notice the least.
The psalmist describes himself as a servant watching closely for the slightest movement of his master’s hand. In ancient households, masters often communicated quietly—sometimes with only a gesture or a tilt of the hand. A faithful servant learned to keep his eyes fixed, watching eagerly for instruction, permission, or help. The psalmist borrows this image and applies it to our relationship with God: “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till He has mercy upon us.”
This waiting is not passive. It is not like waiting for a train or waiting for an appointment. In those moments, time drags and boredom grows. But waiting for God is entirely different. When we wait for the Lord, we are making a declaration of faith. We are saying, “I trust Your timing more than mine. I trust Your wisdom more than my understanding. I trust Your mercy more than my ability to fix anything.” Waiting for God is an act of worship.
And in that waiting, God is quietly at work.
Joseph’s story demonstrates this truth with striking clarity. On a human level, Joseph’s years in prison seemed cruel, unjust, and unnecessary. The cupbearer’s forgetfulness could have been viewed as a tragic delay. Yet Scripture shows that God used that waiting to shape Joseph for the extraordinary task ahead. In prison, Joseph met people who understood the workings of Pharaoh’s court. There, he learned humility, discernment, and leadership. At the right time, the cupbearer remembered Joseph. What looked like a delay was actually preparation. His waiting was not wasted.
David’s story reinforces the same pattern. Anointed as king as a young man, he did not immediately ascend the throne. Instead, he spent years serving Saul, then years fleeing from Saul. He lived in caves, wandered in deserts, and endured betrayal. Yet God used that long season of waiting to build in him a shepherd’s heart. By the time he became king, he had learned to lead with justice, humility, and compassion. When Saul and Jonathan died, David mourned with a tenderness that only comes from a heart shaped in the crucible of waiting. He did not seize power with bitterness; he accepted it with grace.
Isaiah captures this truth beautifully when he writes:
“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”
Waiting on God does not drain strength—it renews it.
But Psalm 123 is not simply about waiting; it is also about pleading. The psalmist cries twice, “Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us.” He has endured the taunts and contempt of the proud. He has been mocked and looked down upon by those who live at ease, who have never tasted hardship, who find entertainment in despising the weary and the lowly. Emotional wounds like these often cut deeper than physical pain. Yet the psalmist does not lash back. He does not defend himself or curse his accusers. Instead, he lifts his eyes higher and appeals to the mercy of God.
His posture reminds us of another worshiper—the tax collector in Jesus’ parable. Too ashamed even to lift his eyes toward heaven, he stood in the temple beating his chest and praying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” The Pharisee, full of pride and contempt, looked down on him. But Jesus said it was the tax collector, not the Pharisee, who went home justified. God exalts the humble. He draws near to the lowly. He hears the cry of the brokenhearted long before He listens to the self-righteous boasting of the proud.
The psalmist knew this truth deeply: “Though the Lord is high, He regards the lowly, but the haughty He knows from afar.” God never despises those who come to Him in weakness. And the greatest reason He can show mercy is because Christ has already carried the weight of our sins. On the cross He bore our iniquities. He took our judgment. He opened the way for mercy to flow freely to anyone who calls on His name.
Paul describes this staggering mercy in Ephesians: we were once dead, enslaved, wandering in disobedience, deserving judgment—but God, rich in mercy, made us alive in Christ. He raised us, forgave us, and seated us with Christ so that forever we might display the immeasurable riches of His grace.
This is why our eyes stay fixed on Him. This is why we wait with hope. This is why we cry with confidence, “Have mercy on us, Lord.” We do not come as beggars, uncertain of His response. We come as children welcomed by grace, bought by the blood of Christ, upheld by the faithfulness of God.
And what does this mean for us practically?
It means that in moments when contempt stings, when life feels unfair, when we feel overlooked or mocked, our first instinct should be to look up—not down in despair, not inward in self-pity, and not outward in anger. Look up. Fix your eyes on the One enthroned above the heavens yet near to the humble. Wait for Him with expectation, trusting that He is preparing you, strengthening you, and shaping you. Cry out for His mercy, knowing that through Christ, that mercy is abundant and sure.
Perhaps today you feel like that mountaineer standing on the narrow ledge. The drop beneath you feels terrifying. The circumstances around you feel unstable. The voices in your life—maybe even your own inner voice—speak criticism, contempt, or fear. But lift your eyes. Look up to the God who reigns. Look up to the God who sees. Look up to the God who is merciful. When you do, the ground beneath you may not change immediately, but your heart will. Fear loosens. Strength rises. Hope returns.
So let this be your prayer today: “God, be merciful to me. Teach me to look to You. Teach me to wait for You. Teach me to trust Your mercy more than my circumstances. My eyes are on You.”