We were sitting in comfortable chairs by the firepit as the sun went down. The temperature was perfect, the palm trees were gently whispering as they swayed in the wind, and the faithful dogs were piled at my feet. “Idyllic” was the word that came to mind.

I asked, “Who is someone you know who has suffered or is weak?” From the silence, I could tell this wasn’t where these young women thought this Bible Study was going to go. Gradually, they began to share. There were those impacted by their physical weakness: Joni in her wheelchair, friends with cancer, Paul and his thorn. Some remembered historical figures who lived through World War II like Corrie Ten Boom and Eric Liddell. They spoke of the relational trials of divorce and broken engagements, of abusive husbands, and aching singleness. Others mentioned the consequences brought on by sin.

Suffering and weakness surround us. Some days feel too long to keep going. Some nights never deliver rest.

The psalmist, Asaph, begins in that place—where the soul stretches toward God and hears only silence. “I cried out to God for help,” Asaph writes, not once but twice. It’s the kind of repetition that feels familiar when you’re desperate for a response, when your heart won’t settle, and your questions won’t sleep.

We don’t know Asaph’s story, just that he was writing this psalm for the choir director. We know he has written other psalms, as with this one, carefully preparing words which the congregation will use in worship. The unspecified nature of his trouble gives us words for our own questions and troubles. We do, however, know how his difficulties impacted him. Perhaps we can hear our own suffering echoed in his words:

 1. I cry aloud to God,
    aloud to God, and he will hear me.
² In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
    in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
    my soul refuses to be comforted.
³ When I remember God, I moan;
    when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah

⁴ You hold my eyelids open;
    I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
⁵ I consider the days of old,
    the years long ago.
⁶ I said,^[a] “Let me remember my song in the night;
    let me meditate in my heart.”
    Then my spirit made a diligent search:
⁷ “Will the Lord spurn forever,
    and never again be favorable?
⁸ Has his steadfast love forever ceased?
    Are his promises at an end for all time?
⁹ Has God forgotten to be gracious?
    Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

This psalm doesn’t rush to resolution. The tension Asaph feels is raw. He asks the questions that many of us may be afraid to voice: Has God rejected me? Has His love run out? Has His promise expired? These aren’t just song lyrics, they are soul churning, gut-level wails. And for those of us walking through seasons of waiting, disappointment, physical weakness, and quiet ache, Asaph demonstrates an honesty that gives us permission to voice our own questions.

In the midst of the questions, we read a strong pivot. Asaph doesn’t stay in his despair. He chooses to remember. Almost like a kind of spiritual defiance, he declares: “I will remember the deeds of the Lord.” He recalls the power and presence of the Lord, not by pretending that everything is fine, but anchoring himself in God’s faithfulness to His children in the past.

10. Then I said, “I will appeal to this,
    to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

This isn’t denial—it’s spiritual discipline. It’s the practice of remembering who God is and what he has done. And it’s one I’ve had to lean into often. Like Asaph, I’ve wrestled with the tension between longing and trust. There are days when the silence feels louder than the promises. But Psalm 77 reminds me that lament isn’t faithlessness—it can be, instead, ground for worship.

¹¹ I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
    yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
¹² I will ponder all your work,
    and meditate on your mighty deeds.
¹³ Your way, O God, is holy.
    What god is great like our God?
¹⁴ You are the God who works wonders;
    you have made known your might among the peoples.
¹⁵ You with your arm redeemed your people,
    the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah

¹⁶ When the waters saw you, O God,
    when the waters saw you, they were afraid;
    indeed, the deep trembled.
¹⁷ The clouds poured out water;
    the skies gave forth thunder;
    your arrows flashed on every side.
¹⁸ The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
    your lightnings lighted up the world;
    the earth trembled and shook.
¹⁹ Your way was through the sea,
    your path through the great waters;
    yet your footprints were unseen.
²⁰ You led your people like a flock
    by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

What does Asaph remember?

He remembered the events of God’s faithfulness: “Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen” (77:19) God’s path for the Israelites wasn’t around the difficulties—it was through it. His presence was undeniable, leading on the unseen path. And His people are called to walk forward even when the waters rise on either side.

He remembered the Character of his God: mighty, holy, unique, miracle-working, guiding shepherd. This mighty God who controls the clouds, the sky, the thunder and lightening, and even the very foundations of the the earth tenderly led His people.

Asaph submits to to the hand of God. Psalm 77 doesn’t tie everything up with a bow. It doesn’t resolve the tension we hear, but it offers a rhythm: cry, question, remember, trust. That’s the invitation—to bring our full selves before God, to name the ache, and to hope in the God who parts seas and walks with us through the night.

⁶ Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, ⁷ casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. ⁸ Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:6-8)

Does life hurt? Do you have questions? Come with Peter, come with Asaph, come with the father who cried out to Jesus, “I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief” (Mark 9:21-24). Bring the mess to your God, and you find the rest that can come only from Him.