Psalm 13 refuses to pretend the darkness away; it gives permission to bring raw questions and sorrow to God while turning toward him in the midst of that pain. The posture is plain: name the wound, ask for sight, and choose to trust God's unfailing love even before circumstances change, holding on to the conviction that God's character — not immediate proof — is the ground of hope. [53:28]
To the choirmaster. A Maskil of David.
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O LORD my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him," lest those who trouble me rejoice because I am shaken.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.
Reflection: What is one honest sentence you can say to God right now about what feels forgotten or unseen, and will you pray it aloud today?
The ancient words "For to us a child is born" ground Advent as holy expectation that reaches through hardship; remembering that God promised a Savior who would carry justice, counsel, and peace steadies the heart as one waits, because the hope is anchored in God's promises through generations rather than in the immediate absence of trouble. [50:36]
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Reflection: Identify one current worry you carry—how does naming the Messiah's titles (Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace) change the way you will pray about that worry today?
Waiting is not passive absence of God but a posture that renovates the soul: those who place their hope in the Lord are promised renewed strength to rise, to run, and to walk without fainting; that promise reframes waiting from wasted time into a season where God's sustaining character does transformational work within the one who waits. [01:04:14]
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.
Reflection: What is one small, practical rhythm (a short daily Scripture reading, a five-minute breath prayer, or a Sabbath practice) you will begin this week to practically “wait on the Lord” and notice his renewing work?
Recounting times when God provided—like the surprise generosity in the feeding story—reorients the soul away from the broken-record of despair and toward confidence in God's character; keeping a memory of past "baskets left over" becomes a tangible resource to draw on when facing current shortages of hope. [01:01:35]
After this Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee (that is, the Sea of Tiberias).
And a large crowd was following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick.
Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand.
Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?”
He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.”
One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?”
Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number.
Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted.
And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.”
So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten.
Reflection: Choose one remembered instance of God's provision in your life; write it down and keep it somewhere visible this week, and when worry rises, read it aloud as a way to reclaim hope today.
The hinge of Advent is not a distant deity but God with us: the same unfailing love that created the promise becomes flesh so that waiting is met by presence; this means your present "how long" is taken up into God's story of coming near, so hope is rooted not only in future rescue but in God's incarnation and ongoing nearness. [01:08:20]
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
Reflection: What is one practical way you will acknowledge "Emmanuel" this week—inviting God into a specific anxious moment—and how will you remind yourself of his nearness when that moment comes?
Advent opens with hope—not a thin optimism, but a steady, weight‑bearing confidence in the promises of God. Israel’s long ache for a Messiah teaches us how to wait: looking back at what God has done, and looking forward to what God has promised. Psalm 13 gives language for that kind of waiting. It begins with raw honesty—“How long, Lord?”—and reminds us that hope doesn’t start with pretending. Hope begins by telling the truth about darkness, grief, and unanswered questions, and bringing those very things into conversation with God.
The psalm also shows a decisive turn. In verse 3, David doesn’t turn away in hurt; he turns toward God, “Look on me and answer, Lord my God.” That is the heart of Advent: facing the darkness, yet turning our face toward the One who breaks it. We keep praying, keep opening Scripture, keep trusting, even when the night feels long. Waiting, then, is not wasted time—God is at work, often quietly, often slowly, always faithfully.
Then the hinge: “But I trust in your unfailing love.” David says this before anything changes. His circumstances remain; his confidence rests in God’s character. That is where Advent hope lives. I shared a story from our Guatemala trip—five loaves and two fish in pharmacy form—where unexpected, abundant provision reframed my expectations of what God can do next time. Remembered faithfulness becomes fuel for future faith. Israel carried that same memory through centuries; their hope was not naïve, but anchored in God’s unfailing love. Isaiah 40:31 promises that those who hope in the Lord find renewed strength for the long road.
Sometimes, like a congregant who read Psalm 13 daily, we need repetition. Just as nights in a hotel add up, repeated time in God’s Word shapes us—quietly forming courage, deepening trust, and training our eyes to see goodness we might otherwise forget. Advent is the season to practice that rhythm.
The great answer to “How long, Lord?” is Jesus—Emmanuel. God does not shout from a distance; God arrives in a manger, steps into our waiting, sees our tears, and promises to make all things new. Whatever you are carrying, your waiting is not wasted. In God’s unfailing love, there is a light the darkness cannot overcome.
``We begin Advent with hope—not a thin, wishful kind of optimism, but a deep assurance rooted in God’s promises. In biblical times, before the birth of Jesus, Israel waited for a Messiah who would bring freedom, justice, and restoration. Their hope was born in hardship and held through generations of longing. Advent invites us into that same posture of hope, of holy expectation. Knowing the full story, we are able to look back and remember that Christ has come, and we are also able to look forward, trusting that Christ will come again. [00:49:16] (69 seconds) #AdventHope
So we find ourselves in the middle of those two places, right here and right now. We lean into God’s presence and promises with hope—hope that the light will break into the darkness, hope that God keeps his word, hope that our waiting is not wasted, hope that the world’s brokenness will not have the final say. Advent hope is a solid ground for weary hearts, reminding us that God is already at work, often quietly, often slowly, but always faithful. [00:50:26] (40 seconds) #HopeThatEndures
The reality is that we don’t need to rid ourselves from these thoughts but just be honest about them, be truthful. This season of Advent gives us space to lament and to name what is broken while we wait for the arrival of the hope of the world. And hope does not start with pretending; hope starts with telling the truth, even when it is hard. [00:56:02] (30 seconds) #LamentAndTruth
In verse three, David says, “Look on me and answer me, Lord my God.” The lament shifts. He is hurting, but he is turning towards God, not away. That’s important. He is hurting, he is lamenting, but he turns towards God instead of away. I think sometimes our temptation in life is when we are hurting and we feel abandoned by God is that we decide we’re going to show you and we’re going to turn away from you, God. But here David does the opposite—he turns towards God. [00:57:16] (40 seconds) #TurnTowardGod
Friends, Advent is that turn. It’s the moment when we face the darkness but choose to look forward with anticipation to the one who breaks into it. We keep praying even when we don’t feel heard. We keep reading God’s word even when we feel stuck. We keep trusting even when the night is long. [00:57:58] (29 seconds) #PrayThroughTheNight
David fears that his enemies will triumph, that darkness will win, in the same way that Israel feared for centuries as they waited for the Messiah. In that same spirit, Advent tells us even when it feels like nothing is happening, God is at work. Waiting doesn’t mean God is absent; waiting means God is preparing. [00:58:27] (28 seconds) #GodIsWorkingInWaiting
Then in verse 5 and 6, we discover hope that rises before the answer ever comes. The psalm does something surprising when David says, “But I trust in your unfailing love, my heart rejoices in your salvation.” He says this before anything has changed. Things are not better. He is not healed. These ailments that he is lamenting about are not behind him; they are still very much present with him. [01:00:14] (36 seconds) #HopeBeforeAnswer
Friends, Israel waited hundreds of years for the promised Messiah. There weren’t daily signs or angel choirs or stars bright in the sky around every corner, but they had the memory of God’s promises, and hope did not die because biblical hope is not optimism, it is not weak hope, it is confidence in God’s unfailing love even when we cannot see the outcome. [01:03:39] (33 seconds) #FaithNotOptimism
David here in Psalm 13 has his hope in the Lord, and he ends the Psalm with these words: “I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” Again, things have not been fixed. The situation that was weighing heavy upon his heart is still there, but he says, “I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” It does not say he fixed everything. It does not say he ended the waiting. But it does say he has been good to me. [01:04:32] (44 seconds) #PraiseDespiteWaiting
Psalm 13 is the perfect Advent Psalm because it ends with hope rooted in God’s character. Your unfailing love is the hinge of the Psalm. In Advent, that love of God becomes flesh and entered into the world—for God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son. God steps into our waiting, not from a distance but from a manger. [01:09:21] (28 seconds) #GodStepsIntoOurWaiting
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