“How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?”
— Psalm 13:1

The Cry of a Weary Soul

The night stretches long. The silence is thick. The weight of unanswered prayers lingers like a heavy mist over the soul.

“How long, O Lord?”

It is not just a question—it is a cry, an ache from the depths of the heart. The Psalmist is not merely speaking; he is groaning under the weight of waiting. It is the kind of waiting that bends the spirit low, the kind that makes the days heavy and the nights sleepless.

Perhaps you have known this kind of waiting.

The kind where you seek God’s presence but feel only silence.
The kind where your prayers rise, but no answer returns.
The kind where your heart feels forgotten, though your mind knows He never forgets.

David, the man after God’s own heart, knew this kind of waiting. He knew what it meant to feel forsaken, to wrestle with despair, to wonder if God had turned His face away.

And yet—David did not turn away from God.

He lamented to God. He brought his raw, unfiltered pain before the Lord, not as one who had given up, but as one who refused to let go.

This is what faith looks like in the darkness.

Not the absence of doubt,
Not the removal of sorrow,
But the determination to bring every tear, every question, every fear into the presence of the One who holds all things.

The Wrestling of the Heart

“How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?”
— Psalm 13:2

Left to his own thoughts, David wrestles with sorrow. He is trapped in the cycle of his own mind, searching for answers that do not come. The weight of waiting, the exhaustion of uncertainty, presses upon him like a burden too heavy to carry.

How often do we do the same?

We replay our fears like a song on repeat.
We analyze every detail, trying to find a way forward.
We seek wisdom, but all we find is weariness.

Yet even here, in the turmoil of his mind, David does something profound—he cries out to his God.

Not a distant deity. Not an impersonal force. But his Lord.

“Consider and answer me, O LORD my God.” (Psalm 13:3)

Do you see it? Even in his doubt, he clings to covenant. He may feel forgotten, but he still calls upon the God who has called him by name.

This is the wrestling of faith—not the absence of struggle, but the refusal to stop reaching for Him in the midst of it.

The Turning Point: From Despair to Trust

“But I have trusted in Your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.”
— Psalm 13:5

The psalm does not end in despair. It ends in trust.

David’s circumstances have not changed. His enemies have not vanished. His waiting is not over.

But his heart has shifted.

Despair has given way to remembrance.

He remembers who God is—a God of steadfast love.
He remembers what God has done—a God of salvation.
He remembers what God will do—a God who never forsakes His own.

And so, David sings.

Not because his trial is over, but because his God is still good.
Not because his pain has vanished, but because his hope is secure.
Not because the night has ended, but because the morning is certain to come.

The Invitation: A Song in the Night

If you find yourself in a season of waiting, take heart.

God has not forgotten you.
His silence is not His absence.
His delays are not His denials.

Like David, bring your questions before Him. Wrestle with your doubts in His presence. Cry out with honesty, but do not let go.

Because the God who seemed silent on Friday was the God who rolled away the stone on Sunday.
The God who seemed distant in the grave was the God who broke death’s power forever.

Morning is coming.

And even before it does—sing.

Sing, because His love is steadfast.
Sing, because His salvation is sure.
Sing, because the waiting is not the end of the story.

“I will sing to the LORD, because He has dealt bountifully with me.”
— Psalm 13:6

Selah.