Chuck Larsen

The first thing that stands out in Psalm 70 is the desperation in David’s voice. We do not know exactly which event in his life inspired this prayer, but it could have been any number of crises. Though David was the beloved king of Israel for forty years—chosen by God, anointed by God, blessed by God, and even called “a man after His own heart”—his life was marked by constant trouble. He lived under threat from Saul, from foreign enemies, from rebellious sons, and from betrayal by trusted friends. Danger was never far from him. As James Montgomery Boice asks, “Should we be astonished that troubles and dangers, enemies, and even muddy pits are our frequent lots in life?” If a man like David faced such relentless struggle, why should we expect an easier path?

We should not be surprised when life feels overwhelming, even when we are walking with God. In this short Psalm, David cries out in desperation again and again: “Hurry, Oh God, to save me! Oh Lord, come quickly to help me!” He repeats this urgent plea four times in just five verses. Can you relate to that kind of prayer? Most of us can. Desperation creeps in through many doors—trouble at home, crises at work, financial strain, failing health, emotional exhaustion, or fear for someone we love. Some days we know exactly how David felt. “Lord, if I do not get some relief soon, I am going to lose it!” When life presses hard and our hearts feel weak, we begin to understand the power of urgent prayer.

Psalm 70 is a prayer from start to finish, and David shows us three ways to pray in crisis. First, he prays honestly for himself. He does not hide his emotion—he pours it out before God. He does not pretend to be strong; he admits his need. Second, he prays about his enemies. He asks God to intervene, to push back evil, to stop those who work against righteousness. He refuses to take revenge into his own hands—he leaves it to God. Finally, he prays for others. He remembers that he is not alone in suffering. He asks God to encourage and protect all who seek Him. David knew that when one believer hurts, many do. Prayer not only lifts our own burdens; it connects us with others who need hope.

Paul gives the same remedy for desperation in his letter to the Philippians—written from a prison cell. “Do not worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” When life begins to crush us, prayer lifts us. When panic rises, peace returns. When we feel like we might lose it, God holds us together.

Psalm 69 is one of the clearest Messianic Psalms in all of Scripture. Its words rise from the depths of sorrow, yet they also reach forward through time and find perfect fulfillment in the suffering of Jesus Christ. The Psalmist declares in verse 9, “and the reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me.” These words foreshadow the heart of Christ, who willingly endured the insults, hatred, and hostility directed at God by taking them upon Himself. His one consuming passion was to accomplish the purpose for which He was sent—to die on the cross and pay the penalty for our sins. He lived with unwavering determination, knowing the cross was His destiny. He set His face like flint toward Jerusalem. No threat, no temptation, no plea from even His closest friends could deter Him. His life was not governed by comfort or self-preservation but by fervent devotion to the will of God. Psalm 69 captures this with the words, “For zeal for your house has consumed me.”

Zeal—holy passion—has always been a powerful force. In warfare, soldiers sometimes suffer from battle fatigue, a weariness so deep that motivation collapses. It spreads like a quiet infection, draining entire units of strength and resolve. One soldier in the Second World War described this despair by saying it “never leads a life in any direction but to the rear.” Yet history also shows that weary soldiers can be revived by witnessing acts of courage. When they see a comrade press forward through pain, it ignites something within them. Zeal—fervent, determined conviction—has the power to awaken life in others. It inspires. It lifts. It leads forward when everything else says retreat.

Scripture gives us many such examples. In 2 Kings 10, Jehu said, “Come with me and see my zeal for the Lord,” and his passion sparked a national turning back to God. Elijah stood alone against the false prophets on Mount Carmel and declared, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty.” His courage set fire to an entire nation’s conscience. Solomon warns in Proverbs 23 that we should not envy sinners but “always be zealous for the fear of the Lord.” Paul echoes this call in Romans 12: “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.” In every generation, God uses the fire of one person’s devotion to awaken others. Last year, God used Charlie Kirk, and his assassination, to ignite a fire in the hearts of many. Their call was “We are Charlie Kirk.”

Psalm 67 is often referred to as a “Missionary Psalm” because it carries a global heartbeat. It refuses to settle for a faith that is private or self-centered. Instead, it cries out for the salvation of the entire world. It begins with a prayer for God’s blessing on “us,” the people of God, but not for selfish gain. The blessing sought here has a purpose beyond personal comfort or prosperity. The Psalmist writes, “May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us, Selah…” Then he tells us why we should desire such blessing: “that your way may be known on earth, your saving power among all nations.” God blesses His people so that others may see His goodness and be drawn to Him. This echoes the priestly blessing that Aaron declared over Israel in Numbers chapter six as they prepared to enter the land: “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” The blessing of God is never meant to end with the receiver—it is meant to flow through them to the world.

James Montgomery Boice offers a beautiful explanation of this shining blessing. He says, “A shining face is the opposite of an angry or scowling face, and a face turned toward someone is the opposite of a face turned away in indifference or disgust.” Aaron spoke this blessing over a people who were surrounded by unbelieving nations. They were called to shine with the light of God’s presence. Boice adds, “A shining face implies favor, the favor of the one whose face is shining, and it implies the friendliness of warm personal relationships too.” God’s blessing is characterized by His smile—His favor, His nearness, His grace. When His face shines upon His people, they become a living testimony of His goodness. In this way, the blessing of God on His people becomes a blessing to the nations around them. They see a people who walk in peace, hope, purpose, and joyful confidence, and they are drawn to the God behind such blessing.

The real longing of this Psalm is not for material blessings but for a deep, radiant relationship with God—one so authentic that it draws others to Him. Physical blessings fade, but a life marked by God’s presence is compelling. What attracts the world is not wealth, success, or status; it is a heart that knows and reflects God. Jeremiah spoke to this truth: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth.” May the Lord make His face shine upon you—and through you—onto everyone you meet today.

Psalm 66, verse 18 is a well-known and deeply searching verse. It reveals why our prayers sometimes seem to bounce off an iron sky. The Psalmist praises God for hearing and answering his prayer, but before celebrating he pauses to examine his own heart: “If I had cherished iniquity in my heart, the Lord would not have listened.” Hidden sin blocks communion with God. It distorts our motives, hardens our conscience, and closes our ears to His voice. But the Psalmist continues with hope and joy: “But truly God has listened; he has attended to the voice of my prayer.” God does hear. He does answer. Yet He calls us first to examine the condition of our hearts.

One essential requirement for entering into the presence of God is purity of heart. Christianity has always been a matter of the heart. External actions mean nothing without inward truth. Psalm 24 asks, “Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord? And who shall stand in his holy place?” The answer is clear: “He who has clean hands and a pure heart.” The apostle Paul echoed this foundational truth as he instructed his young disciple Timothy. He wrote, “The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” Later he exhorts him again, saying, “So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart.” Purity is not simply the absence of sin—it is the presence of God’s transforming grace shaping thoughts, desires, and motives. Peter echoes the same call: “Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God.” The heart is the center of our spiritual life, and purity is its lifeblood.

Max Lucado offers a bold reminder of this truth: “Real change is an inside job. You might alter things a day or two with money and systems, but the heart of the matter is and always will be the matter of the heart. Allow me to get specific. Our problem is sin. Not finances. Not budgets.… Our problem is sin. We are in rebellion against our Creator. We are separated from our Father. We are cut off from the source of life. A new president or policy will not fix that. It can only be solved by God. That is why the Bible uses drastic terms like conversion, repentance, and lost and found. Society may renovate, but only God re-creates.” The only way to experience answered prayer, genuine transformation, and intimate fellowship with God is to bring Him not just our words, but our hearts. He alone can purify them, and when He does, heaven opens. We can be born again through faith in Christ.

In David’s prayer for protection in Psalm 64, he uses a striking phrase that reveals a profound spiritual truth about every human being: “For the inward mind and heart of a man are deep!” Beneath the surface of our lives, beyond the mask we present to the world, lies a heart full of hidden thoughts, desires, and motivations. Jeremiah 17:9 speaks plainly: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” Jesus affirmed this difficult truth when He explained that sin is not just a matter of outward behavior. It is rooted deep within. He said, “But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander.” The problem of sin is not external—it is internal. Our actions simply expose what already lives in our hearts.

Consider the simple apple. How does a worm get inside it? Many would assume the worm burrows in from the outside, but scientists tell a different story. An insect lays an egg in the apple blossom long before the fruit grows. Eventually, the worm hatches inside the apple and eats its way out. The corruption starts at the core. In the same way, sin begins in the heart before it ever becomes visible in our words or deeds. We are not sinners because we sin—we sin because we are sinners. The problem lies deep within us, and no amount of external effort, rituals, or good intentions can cure a diseased heart. What we need is not a spiritual makeover but a spiritual miracle.

That miracle is promised in the New Covenant. God does not merely treat the symptoms of sin—He goes straight to the source. In Ezekiel 36:26–27 He declares, “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.” Only God can transform the human heart. David understood this. When he was confronted with his own sin, he did not make excuses or blame others. He prayed earnestly, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” He knew the issue was not merely his behavior—it was his heart. And that is where God still begins His work today—in the deepest part of us, where only He can see and only He can heal.

In own words, this is what Psalm 63 brings to mind. I often find myself wandering in a spiritual desert, a barren “wasteland” while indulging in everything this world claims will satisfy. I chase after pleasure, possessions, and prestige, believing each new experience will bring fulfillment. Yet the truth is painfully familiar: every time I secure another thrill, a shinier toy, or a higher position, I am still hungry. The world can feed my senses, but it never feeds my soul. There remains within me an ache nothing on earth can quiet. I may laugh, celebrate, and appear content on the outside, yet a whisper inside keeps reminding me that something essential is still missing. I am hungry for love, hungry for purpose, hungry for truth—hungry through and through.

Then, weary from wandering in circles, I turn to God. I step inside a place of worship with other believers, and something begins to change. As voices rise in praise, my heart awakens. As I listen to the Word of God proclaimed, I begin to think seriously, deeply, about what He has to say to me personally. I find myself opening up to His voice, letting His truth seep into the dry cracks of my soul. And suddenly, that dull ache inside—the hunger I could never satisfy with all the world’s offerings—begins to fade. But fade is too mild a word. Those pains of hunger do not just diminish; they disappear. The experience is rich, nourishing, overwhelming. It is like eating “my fill of prime rib and gravy. I smack my lips!” The Psalmist captured that feeling long before I ever lived it—God does not just feed me; He fills me. He satisfies me more deeply than I imagined possible.

He invites me not merely to taste, but to feast—fully, freely, and daily. “Dine on Him,” for nothing else will do. The soul was not designed to thrive on temporary thrills or shallow applause; it was made for God. In a world that leaves countless lives scorched by disappointment and thirsting for meaning, He remains the only true source of satisfaction. In a parched and weary land where hearts wander in search of something real, He offers living water for every thirst and the bread of life for every hunger. He does not ration His goodness. He gives abundantly, generously, joyfully. So come hungry, come thirsty—but do not go elsewhere. Come to Him. He will satisfy your soul as nothing else ever can.