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580_The God who restores our fortunes (Psalm 126)

Psalm 126 When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dream.
2 Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then they said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
3 The Lord has done great things for us;
we are glad.

4 Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
like streams in the Negeb!
5 Those who sow in tears
shall reap with shouts of joy!
6 He who goes out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
bringing his sheaves with him.

A few years ago, a well-known humanitarian organization released a short documentary about a village in East Africa that had endured a devastating drought. For months, the land cracked beneath the relentless sun. Wells dried up, families were displaced, and the fields that once produced grain and vegetables became nothing but dust. Many villagers left, hoping to survive elsewhere. But one day, after months of waiting, dark clouds gathered unexpectedly. A sudden downpour burst over the parched land. The villagers ran out of their makeshift shelters with tears of astonishment. Children danced barefoot in the mud, older men raised their hands toward the sky, and women began to sing. One of the elders, overwhelmed with emotion, said something unforgettable: “It feels like waking up from a dream we thought was lost.”

That statement captures the heart of Psalm 126. This short psalm, the seventh of the Songs of Ascents, is a picture of God’s people standing in the rain of His mercy after a long season of drought, displacement, and longing. It is a psalm drenched in relief—one that remembers a moment so astonishing that the people could hardly believe it was happening. “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,” the psalmist says, “we were like those who dream.” It was as though reality suddenly became better than their imagination dared hope. God had done something so extraordinary, so unmistakably divine, that they stood stunned in gratitude.

Scholars believe the psalm may reflect a time when God’s people, forced by famine to leave their hill country homes and seek survival in the lowlands, were finally brought back by God’s gracious intervention. Whatever the exact historical moment, the memory is clear: God took a displaced, discouraged, and diminished people—and restored them. They returned to the familiar hills they once feared they might never see again. Their relief overflowed into laughter, songs, and testimonies that even the surrounding nations could not ignore. The people around them said, “The Lord has done great things for them,” and Israel answered joyfully, “The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad.”

This restoration is not a small act. Human history testifies how difficult it is to bring a displaced people back home. Once a community migrates—whether across a border or across an ocean—it often roots itself elsewhere. Generations grow up with new customs, new languages, new identities. But Israel’s story was different, because their return was not the result of politics or human strategy—it was the supernatural fulfillment of God’s promise. Generations earlier, when Jacob left Canaan for Egypt, God promised that He would someday bring his descendants back. Joseph, confident in God’s covenant faithfulness, reaffirmed that promise on his deathbed. And though four centuries passed, God kept His word. The exodus from Egypt proved to Israel and to the watching world that no amount of time, no empire, no suffering, and no circumstance can cancel what God has spoken.

The psalmist, knowing this rich heritage of deliverance, understood a vital truth: with God, restoration is never a question of if, but only when. God had restored them before; God would restore them again. Because God does not abandon His people—He brings them home.

But Psalm 126 is not only a record of the past. It quickly becomes a prayer for the present: “Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like streams in the Negeb.” The Negeb is a desert—dry, harsh, and silent. But when seasonal rains come, the dry riverbeds fill suddenly, transforming a barren landscape into one rushing with life. The psalmist is saying, “Lord, You have done it before—do it again. Let Your restoration flow into our present barrenness the way unexpected streams flow through a desert.”

What makes this psalm beautifully balanced is that it remembers God’s sovereignty while acknowledging human responsibility. The final verses shift from celebration to participation. They speak of sowing—sowing in tears, sowing with faith, sowing when it costs something. The picture is vivid: a family during famine carefully measuring out the last handfuls of grain. Their children are hungry, their stomachs are empty, and every instinct tells them to grind the grain into flour and survive one more day. But they know that if they consume everything now, they will starve tomorrow. So they take part of what little they have, carry it into a barren field, and scatter it into the ground—crying as they release it. They sow in tears not because they doubt, but because faith is costly. And yet, that sacrificial sowing is the very act God uses to bring about a future harvest. The psalm promises that the same hands that release the seed with weeping will one day return with arms full of sheaves. Their tears will become their testimony; their sacrifice will become their joy.

This image is not merely agricultural. It is the rhythm of life in God’s kingdom. Throughout Scripture, God forms His people in seasons of planting and harvesting, loss and gain, weeping and rejoicing. Our true home is not this world. Our true fortunes are not measured in material wealth or earthly security. And yet, in the midst of our daily responsibilities, we often forget this. Like Jacob, we may find ourselves longing for our true home, asking, “When will I finally care for my own household?” Not the temporary house of earthly concerns, but the eternal household God is building.

Every believer knows what it feels like to sow in tears. We sow in prayer for a loved one who does not yet believe. We sow in obedience when no one applauds. We sow in perseverance when life seems painfully slow to change. We sow in generosity when our resources feel small. We sow in faithfulness when our work seems unnoticed. And often, we sow without seeing immediate results. But the promise of God stands firm: sowing done in faith, obedience, and trust is never wasted. Paul echoes this when he writes, “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” The seed you sow is seen. The tears you shed are counted. And the harvest God brings will one day overwhelm you with joy.

The harvest may not always be visible in this life. Some seeds bloom slowly, sometimes after we are gone. Some souls we invest in may only fully respond years later. Some prayers may seem silent until suddenly God sends streams into the desert. But make no mistake—the God who restores fortunes is still at work. He still takes barren fields and makes them fruitful. He still takes broken stories and makes them whole. He still takes tears and turns them into testimonies.

Perhaps you are walking through a season where you feel displaced—not geographically, but emotionally or spiritually. Maybe joy feels distant, hope feels thin, or your prayers feel unanswered. Psalm 126 invites you to look back at God’s past faithfulness, to pray boldly for present restoration, and to keep sowing faithfully until the harvest comes. The God who restored Zion, who led Israel out of Egypt, who kept His promises through centuries—this same God is writing your story.

He is the God who turns tears into joy, despair into dancing, exile into celebration.
He is the God who restores our fortunes.

As you move forward today, ask yourself: Where is God inviting me to sow in faith, even if it costs something? Is it in prayer? In forgiveness? In generosity? In service? In sharing the gospel? Trust that your sowing is not in vain. Trust that God sees every tear and every sacrifice. Trust that the fields which look barren now may soon be flooded with streams of His mercy.

And when the harvest comes—as it surely will—you will return with joy, carrying the sheaves God Himself has grown. For the God who restores is not finished with you yet.