Daily Devotional Podcasts

477_Praising God at all times Psalm 43 Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause against an ungodly people, from the deceitful and unjust man deliver me! 2 For you are the God in whom I take refuge; why have you rejected me? Why do I go about mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? 3 Send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling! 4 Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise you with the lyre, O God, my God. 5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. Years ago, during one of the darkest seasons of her life, a woman named Annie Johnson Flint was diagnosed with severe arthritis that left her bedridden and in constant pain. She lost both her parents at a young age, was later adopted, and then lost those adoptive parents too. Her body slowly became twisted and immobile, and yet out of that pain emerged some of the most beautiful hymns ever written. One of her most beloved lines goes like this: “He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater, He sendeth more strength when the labors increase; To added afflictions He addeth His mercy, To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.” What kind of faith produces praise like that in the midst of such suffering? Psalm 43 gives us a glimpse into that kind of soul—one that chooses to praise God not just in times of victory and celebration, but also in seasons of confusion, sorrow, and silence. Psalm 43 is often considered a continuation of Psalm 42, carrying the same refrain and tone of longing. It begins with a desperate cry: “Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause against an ungodly people; from the deceitful and unjust man deliver me!” This is no casual request. The psalmist feels attacked, oppressed, and abandoned. He pleads for God to intervene, to make things right. But then comes a haunting question—one that many believers have whispered in dark nights of the soul: “For you are the God in whom I take refuge; why have you rejected me?” It’s a deep paradox. The psalmist knows God as his refuge, his only hope and protector. And yet, in the current moment, it feels as if God has turned His face away. His enemies seem to be winning. His prayers echo back in silence. His soul is cast down, in turmoil. But even in this emotional pit, the psalmist doesn't walk away. He doesn’t shut down or give up. Instead, he cries out: “Send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling!” In times of darkness, what does he ask for? Light. Truth. He knows that only God's Word can illuminate the path ahead. He doesn’t demand a full explanation, but enough light

476_Hope in God even in the dark Psalm 42 As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. 2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? 3 My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” 4 These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival. 5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation 6 and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. 7 Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. 8 By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. 9 I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” 10 As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” 11 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. It was a cold night in December 1967. Joni Eareckson Tada, just 17 years old, dove into a small cove of Chesapeake Bay. Unfortunately, she had misjudged the depth. She hit her head on the bottom and broke her neck. The result was paralysis for life, from the shoulders down. In the months that followed, despair consumed her. The vibrant, athletic teen who once rode horses and played tennis now faced a life confined to a wheelchair. There were days when the darkness was so heavy, she begged God to take her home. She writes, “I was tired of hoping, tired of believing, tired of being tired. I had no strength left. And yet, somewhere deep within, I realized I had a choice: to either curse God or to cling to Him in the dark.” Today, Joni is a powerful voice of hope for millions. Her suffering didn’t vanish. She remained paralyzed. But she learned to trust in God’s goodness whatever her external circumstances. Her story echoes the lesson of Psalm 42, where the psalmist teaches us not how to escape darkness, but how to hope in God in the middle of it. Psalm 42 was written by the sons of Korah, Levites descended from the family of Kohath. Though their ancestor Korah had led a rebellious uprising against Moses and was judged by God (Numbers 16), these descendants were spared (Numbers 26:9–11). By David’s

475_The blessedness of considering the weak Psalm 41 Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble the Lord delivers him; 2 the Lord protects him and keeps him alive; he is called blessed in the land; you do not give him up to the will of his enemies. 3 The Lord sustains him on his sickbed; in his illness you restore him to full health. 4 As for me, I said, “O Lord, be gracious to me; heal me, for I have sinned against you!” 5 My enemies say of me in malice, “When will he die, and his name perish?” 6 And when one comes to see me, he utters empty words, while his heart gathers iniquity; when he goes out, he tells it abroad. 7 All who hate me whisper together about me; they imagine the worst for me. 8 They say, “A deadly thing is poured out on him; he will not rise again from where he lies.” 9 Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me. 10 But you, O Lord, be gracious to me, and raise me up, that I may repay them! 11 By this I know that you delight in me: my enemy will not shout in triumph over me. 12 But you have upheld me because of my integrity, and set me in your presence forever. 13 Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting! Amen and Amen. A few years ago, during a particularly harsh winter in Chicago, a commuter named John was walking to his train station early in the morning. As he passed under an overpass, he saw a homeless man shivering on a bench, clearly struggling in the bitter cold. Most people passed by—some perhaps unsure of what to do, others avoiding eye contact out of discomfort or fear. But John paused. He took off his own gloves, then his coat, and handed them to the man. He missed his train that day, arriving late to work and receiving a reprimand from his manager. But he never regretted the decision. Later, when telling the story, he said, “It was the first time I really saw someone. And when I did, it changed me.” That moment of pausing to see someone in need—to consider the weak—is exactly what Psalm 41 calls “blessed.” The psalm doesn’t open with a call to worship or a cry for help, but with a beautiful truth that is often lost in our fast-paced world: “Blessed is the one who considers the poor. In the day of trouble, the Lord delivers him.” To “consider” the poor doesn’t simply mean to notice them or even just to help financially—it means to think about their needs, to engage our hearts and minds in compassion. This thread runs throughout Scripture, from the Law of Mt. Sinai to the Lord’s ministry. God repeatedly emphasizes His concern for the vulnerable. In ancient Israel, the law required landowners to leave the grain at the edges of their fields unharvested so that the