Blog

460_Our real strength

Psalm 28 To you, O Lord, I call;
my rock, be not deaf to me,
lest, if you be silent to me,
I become like those who go down to the pit.
2 Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy,
when I cry to you for help,
when I lift up my hands
toward your most holy sanctuary.

3 Do not drag me off with the wicked,
with the workers of evil,
who speak peace with their neighbors
while evil is in their hearts.
4 Give to them according to their work
and according to the evil of their deeds;
give to them according to the work of their hands;
render them their due reward.
5 Because they do not regard the works of the Lord
or the work of his hands,
he will tear them down and build them up no more.

6 Blessed be the Lord!
For he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
7 The Lord is my strength and my shield;
in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to him.

8 The Lord is the strength of his people;
he is the saving refuge of his anointed.
9 Oh, save your people and bless your heritage!
Be their shepherd and carry them forever.

During World War II, a small town in France was under constant threat of bombing. Among the many terrified citizens was an old woman who calmly went about her daily routines — sweeping her front porch, humming old hymns, and offering help to anyone in need. One day, a group of soldiers passing by asked her, “Aren’t you afraid, madam? How are you so calm when everyone else is in panic?” She looked at them kindly and said, “I made peace with God a long time ago. I sleep each night knowing He is my strength and shield. I cannot stop the bombs, but I know who holds the skies.”

That quiet confidence—anchored not in circumstance but in Someone greater—is at the heart of Psalm 28. In this deeply personal psalm, David reminds us where our real strength lies. It is not in armies, strategies, or sheer willpower. It is in God Himself—our rock, our shield, our refuge.

The psalm opens with a passionate plea from David, a cry that reveals not only his desperation but also his dependency. He says in verse 2:
“Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy, when I cry to you for help, when I lift up my hands toward your most holy sanctuary.”
These are not casual prayers. They are the groans of a heart in a time of calamity, a heart that knows only God can save. David knows what it means to be surrounded by enemies, misunderstood by people, and threatened by betrayal. But he also knows that the One who dwells in the holy sanctuary is listening.

In the following verses, David pleads not to be counted among the wicked. For their condition is dangerous—not just outwardly, but inwardly. The duplicity of the wicked—their smooth words covering poisonous intent—is repulsive to David – and more importantly, it is offensive to God.

Centuries later, the Lord rebuked the Pharisees for the same offence. They were obsessed with external conformity to the law, but blind to their internal corruption. In Matthew 15:19-20, Jesus says, “For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person.” What our hearts are full of will eventually spill out into our actions. It is not just about what we do, but who we are.

Sin never begins with an act. It begins with a thought that is rebellious against God. When left unchecked, it grows, infects our desires, and leads to death. The prophet Isaiah gives a vivid picture of the inner turmoil of the wicked:
“But the wicked are like the tossing sea; for it cannot be quiet, and its waters toss up mire and dirt.” (Isaiah 57:20)
There is no rest for a heart estranged from God. Like the churning sea, it is constantly in motion—never clean, never still.

The attitude of humility, not his moral perfection, sets David apart from the wicked. David’s heart is not proud; it is dependent. He says in verse 6,
“Blessed be the Lord! For he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.”
The psalm moves from petition to praise. David goes from pleading for mercy to rejoicing, for the Lord has heard him. And that is enough.

We often think of David as a mighty warrior—and he was. He had a well-trained, organized army. He won many battles. But he never mistook military strength for real strength. Before every major battle, he sought the Lord’s will. He didn’t assume that past victories guaranteed future success. His confidence wasn’t in his sword—it was in his Shepherd.

David continues:
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him.” (v. 7)
The wicked trust in deceit. David trusts in God. The result is a heart that rejoices and a mouth that sings. A joyful heart, Proverbs tells us, is good medicine (17:22). It brings healing, not just to ourselves but to those around us. David’s joy is rooted not in circumstances, but in relationship—a relationship with a God who is near, strong, faithful, and attentive.

Psalm 28:8 broadens the scope of David’s prayer.
“The Lord is the strength of his people; he is the saving refuge of his anointed.”
David knew that what was true for him needed to be true for his people. It wasn’t enough that he trusted God—he longed for the entire nation to recognize the Lord as their strength. David wanted his people to know that their real security was not in their earthly king—but in their heavenly King.

He concludes the psalm with a pastoral prayer:
“Oh, save your people and bless your heritage! Be their shepherd and carry them forever.”
This is the cry of a man who loves his people and knows his own limitations. He cannot carry them forever—but God can. David was a shepherd before he was a king. He knew what it meant to lead sheep—how prone they were to wander, how much they depended on the shepherd’s guidance and protection. He turns his burden of leadership over to the Great Shepherd, who can do for the people what he himself cannot. And the Shepherd responded at the right time. He gave up his own life for his sheep to enter his fold forever.

The world is full of uncertainties. Relationships fail, health deteriorates, economies falter. Leaders come and go. But the one unchanging reality is that the Lord is our strength. Not just on a few days. Not just in crisis. Always.

Whom do we trust? Is our strength found in people, in systems, in our jobs or our bank accounts? Or is it in the unchanging character of God? If so, this means that when we are weak, we don’t pretend to be strong. We run to God. When we are anxious, we lift up our hands, as David did, toward the sanctuary. We acknowledge our need, and we trust that He hears. We guard our hearts in loyalty to him, knowing that what resides there shapes our lives. We don’t just manage our behavior—we surrender our hearts.

We cultivate a daily relationship with God that doesn’t depend on emotions or circumstances. We anchor ourselves in His Word, we seek His will before making decisions, and we rejoice in Him—not because life is perfect, but because He is present.

Let’s stop looking for strength in all the wrong places. Let’s turn to the One who carries us, fights for us, and never fails us. Like that old woman in the war-torn village, let us live with quiet confidence—not because we control the outcome, but because we know the One who does, and we know that our strength is in him. God bless.