[Warning: this reflection makes reference to Super Bowl LIX. Sorry, Chiefs fans.]
“I waited patiently for the Lord;
Psalm 40:1–2
He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
Out of the miry bog,
And set my feet upon a rock,
Making my steps secure.”
I’m Reformed, which means I affirm the dismal view of the human condition known as “total depravity.” When I read this intro to David’s psalm, my heart sings in agreement: “Yep. That was me, stuck in a pit of destruction. God lifted me from a miry bog I could not climb out of myself.” Salvation only comes from the Lord, and I contributed nothing but the sin and misery I needed saving from.
But…if I’m honest…
I often think of my neediness in past tense. I WAS totally depraved, so I desperately needed divine intervention. Now that I’m alive in Christ, I’ve pretty much got it together. School, work, relationships, growth in godliness—if I plan and work and pray enough, I can figure things out and make things happen.
As for me, I am capable and resourceful. I can basically trust myself to order my life and accomplish my goals. God’s involved, of course, mostly to provide that energy so I can get stuff done. Like, I’ve gotten the ball to the goal line, and I just need God to give that last boost of power: a little “tush push” to get us into the end zone.
Except that’s not how David sees himself in Psalm 40…and that’s not how God sees his children.
“As for me, I am poor and needy.”
I’m less like the Eagles at fourth and inches, and more like Patrick Mahomes getting demolished over and over because the offensive line keeps disintegrating in the face of a superior force.
My poverty and neediness didn’t end when God brought my soul to life. Yes, I am abundantly rich now, but that’s not because I have secured something for myself. As for me, I am still poor and needy.
“As for you, O Lord, you will not restrain your mercy from me.
Your steadfast love and your faithfulness will ever preserve me.”
Lord, as for you, well, you point your boundless benevolence right at me. Your unrestrained mercy fills the caverns of my need. Your covenant love and faithfulness will always be the force that preserves me from the poverty I couldn’t escape. My only hope of rest or peace or joy or security is that you take thought for me. And you do, and you won’t stop. Trusting that, trusting you, is to love your salvation in past and present tenses. The only greatness to celebrate is yours.
So…
“May all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you;
May those who love your salvation say continually,
‘Great is the Lord!’”