Where Does Your Help Come From? The Truth About Divine Assistance

Good Morning!

Welcome to the second in my series on Christian Misconceptions: Biblical Facts vs “Christian Norms.” See? Weird, huh? "Anthony never does sermon series,” you might be saying to yourself. Welp. You are the recipient of the first. Congratulations! [sing] “What can I say except ‘You’re Welcome?'"

“God helps those who help themselves." The phrase rolls off the tongue with such authority that many assume it must be Sacred Scripture. It's quoted in moments of encouragement and challenge, delivered as timeless wisdom by parents, coaches, and yes, even pastors. In fact, one online author, Donny Friederichsen, in 2018 wrote this about that phrase: "A majority of Americans believe that this is a biblical phrase. Even those who know it isn't a biblical phrase usually attribute it to Benjamin Franklin. Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanack includes this phrase in it. But Franklin was not the originator of it. Some would point back to early Greek and Roman folklore or Aesop's fables where versions of this saying are found. Versions of this saying also appear in George Herbert's poetry in the early 17th century. Others see it as originating in Algernon Sidney's Discourses Concerning Government (1680). But the form in which it usually appears today most likely originated with the Reformed and Puritan Bible commentator, Matthew Henry--yep, that Matthew Henry.” He goes on later to say more about the phrase and its context within Matthew Henry’s works, but that’s not our focus today. What if I told you this familiar saying not only appears nowhere in the Bible, but actually contradicts the very heart of the Gospel? What if this cultural axiom we've embraced actually undermines our understanding of God's character and His relationship with us? Last week, we examined why "hate the sin, love the sinner" falls short of Bbiblical teaching. Today, we'll uncover an even more profound truth that challenges our culture's obsession with self-reliance and independence: God doesn't help those who help themselves—He helps those who cannot help themselves.

Scripture

Today, we will look at the whole of Psalm 121, although our focus will be on verses 1-2.

Psalm 121 reads: “A Song of Ascents. I lift up eyes to the hills— from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.”

Our text today is from one of the Psalms of Ascent that pilgrims would sing as they made their arduous journey upward to Jerusalem. This psalm begins with a question that every human heart asks in moments of uncertainty: "From where does my help come?" It's a question we'll explore together today.

Context

To understand the power of this Psalm, we must first place ourselves in the sandals of ancient Israelite pilgrims. Three times a year, faithful Jews would make the arduous journey to Jerusalem for major festivals. These pilgrimages were physically demanding and often dangerous. The journey to Jerusalem literally meant ascending—the city sits on a hill—and travelers faced steep paths, scorching heat by day, cold nights, and the constant threat of bandits hiding in the surrounding hills. When the psalmist writes, "I lift my eyes to the hills," he might be looking toward Jerusalem with hope, or scanning the threatening terrain with apprehension. Either way, this is a moment of profound vulnerability. The pilgrim is exposed, weary, and aware of his limitations. It's from this place of acknowledged weakness—not strength—that the psalmist poses the question: "From where does my help come?"

Although commentators debate whether the psalmist is having an inner monolgue with himself or a dialogue between two parties, most agree that the original psalmist’s situation was known only to him, and is looking with great anxiety or longing to the hills. As one commentator says: “The “help” [the Hebrew word here is ‘ezer’]

עֵזֶר

with which he is concerned pertains to protection, guidance, and blessing (vv. 3–8). He desires to prosper in his pilgrimage, as well as in life, so that he may enjoy a sense of harmony in all of his endeavors.”

It seems that as soon as the question hits him, he is overcome with the knowledge that his help stems from “the Lord, who made Heaven and Earth.” This statement goes beyond the more modern ideas of creationism and evolution, but instead takes up a statement similarly found in what is known as the “Apostle’s Creed” that actually begins with: “I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.”

This claim, then, excludes any other “god” or similar entity as having anything to do with the psalmist’s safety and well-being. Therefore, the psalmist concludes that the source of help comes from the Creator who has limitless power and sovereignty.

Understanding the Text

Let's examine this Psalm verse by verse to uncover its meaning: Verses 1-2: "I lift up eyes to the hills— from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." The psalmist immediately answers his own question. Help doesn't come from self-reliance or human strength. It comes from Yahweh, the Creator of everything. The reference to God as Creator establishes His authority and ability to help—the One who made everything certainly has the power to protect you. Verses 3-4: "He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep." On treacherous mountain paths, a misplaced foot could mean disaster. The promise that God "will not let your foot be moved" speaks directly to the traveler's vulnerability. Furthermore, while human guardians must eventually sleep, God remains perpetually vigilant. The repetition emphasizes this point: He neither slumbers nor sleeps. Verses 5-6: "The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day nor the moon by night." In ancient Near Eastern thought, the right side represented strength and honor. God provides shade—protection from the elements—on the pilgrim's strong side, complementing human capability with divine protection. The mention of protection from sun and moon encompasses all dangers, at all times. Verses 7-8: “The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” The psalm concludes with comprehensive protection. The threefold repetition of "keep" emphasizes God's preserving care. This protection extends to all of life's journeys ("going out and coming in") and for all time ("from this time forth and forevermore").

To understand the power of this psalm, we need to place ourselves in the sandals of ancient Israelite pilgrims. Three times each year, faithful Jews would make the journey to Jerusalem for major festivals. These weren't leisurely road trips with comfortable accommodations. They were physically demanding, potentially dangerous pilgrimages through harsh terrain. The journey to Jerusalem literally meant ascending—the city sits on a hill approximately 2,500 feet above sea level. Travelers faced steep paths, scorching heat by day, cold nights, and the constant threat of bandits hiding in the surrounding hills. When the psalmist writes, "I lift my eyes to the hills," imagine a weary traveler pausing on the path. Perhaps looking toward Jerusalem with hope, or scanning the threatening terrain with apprehension. This is a moment of acknowledged vulnerability. The pilgrim is exposed, exhausted, and acutely aware of his limitations. It's from this place of recognized weakness—not strength—that the question emerges: "From where does my help come?" And the answer comes immediately, with certainty: "My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth."

What Should We Be Getting From This

This psalm teaches us three foundational theological truths.

Divine Help Comes from Outside Ourselves

The psalmist doesn't look inward for strength but upward. True help comes from beyond us—from the Creator Himself. This directly contradicts the notion that we must first help ourselves before God will step in.

Can I ask you something? Have you ever felt spiritually exhausted? I know I have. There are times when I'm carrying burdens that feel too heavy, facing challenges that seem too big, and I'm just... tired. And I wonder if that's because we're trying to do too much on our own. We're not meant to navigate this life with just our limited human wisdom and strength. When we rely primarily on ourselves, we end up anxious, fearful, and burned out. I talk to so many people who say, 'My faith shouldn't feel this heavy, should it?' And they're right! Jesus promised that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. So why doesn't it feel that way? I think it's because we've misunderstood where our help is supposed to come from in the first place.

So what's the solution to this tension between self-reliance and God-reliance? It's understanding the divine partnership God invites us into. Consider Joshua at Jericho - he didn't simply sit back waiting for God to topple the walls. As Matthew Henry points out, Joshua was 'by Jericho' in 'faith and hope,' meditating and praying while also planning and preparing. He went to the enemy city without fear, knowing God had promised victory, yet he still took action. This is the beautiful balance - Joshua relied completely on God's power while simultaneously doing his part. God uses means to execute His will, and sometimes we are those means! He uses us as instruments to affect His will in this world. But here's the crucial distinction: while Joshua prepared, he knew that without God's intervention, those walls would never fall. No amount of human planning or effort could accomplish what only God could do. And this principle extends to our salvation too - perhaps the area where self-reliance most dangerously invades our thinking. We can never earn or achieve salvation through our own efforts. No amount of good works, religious devotion, or moral living can save us - that comes only through God's grace through faith. So we look upward first, acknowledging our complete dependence on God, and then we move forward in obedient action, knowing that God will help us as we do what He has called us to do. The psalmist understood this - our help comes from the Lord, but we still lift our eyes to the mountains. It's not either-or; it's both-and.

You know what happens when we finally learn to look upward first? We enter into this amazing partnership with God. Instead of trying to do everything in our own strength and then asking God to bless our efforts, we start with God and move forward together. And the benefits are incredible! First, there's this sense of rest that comes over your soul when you release the burden of having to be self-sufficient all the time. Have you felt that? That exhale of relief? Second, you gain access to wisdom that goes way beyond human understanding. How many times have you faced a situation and thought, 'I have no idea what to do here'? God does. Third, you discover strength for impossible situations - the kind of strength that makes you look back later and say, 'That was definitely not me!' And finally, you develop this authentic humility that actually opens the door to more of God's grace in your life. James 4:6 reminds us, 'God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.' I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have God's favor than His opposition!

God's Protection Is for the Vulnerable

The entire psalm addresses those who recognize their vulnerability. God's promises are for travelers aware of the dangers, not for those who believe they can handle everything themselves.

When the psalmist wrote 'I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?' he wasn't merely admiring the landscape. He was acknowledging a profound truth about our human condition: we are vulnerable travelers on life's journey. The hills represented both danger and false security—places where bandits lurked and where pagan worship offered empty promises. The question posed is one we all face: In our moments of vulnerability, where do we truly look for help? So many of us, even within our faith community, have adopted the world's message that strength means self-sufficiency, that maturity means handling everything ourselves. But Psalm 121 confronts this fallacy directly. The entire psalm addresses those who recognize their vulnerability, not those who deny it. God's promises of protection—that He 'will not let your foot slip,' that He 'watches over you' without slumbering—these aren't for the self-reliant. They're specifically for travelers aware of the dangers, those honest enough to admit they cannot protect themselves.

God doesn't promise that we won't face dangers—the psalm mentions sun, moon, and evil—but He promises to be with us through them. This differs from the prosperity gospel taught in some Christian circles, which suggests that faith eliminates problems. True faith doesn't eliminate the journey's dangers; it connects us to the One who walks with us through them. Look at how Psalm 23 begins: Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

There is profound freedom in acknowledging what the psalmist knew: we are all vulnerable travelers. No one—regardless of wealth, status, health, or even spiritual maturity—is exempt from human frailty. The CEO needs God's protection as desperately as the homeless person. The pastor needs divine guidance as much as the newest believer. The elderly saint faces vulnerabilities different from but no less real than those of the young family. The psalm's promises are universal because our vulnerability is universal. When Paul wrote, 'When I am weak, then I am strong,' he wasn't being poetic; he was describing the paradox at the heart of authentic faith. Our culture—and sometimes our Christian subculture—has sold us the lie that vulnerability is weakness. But Psalm 121 tells us the opposite truth: acknowledging vulnerability is the prerequisite for experiencing God's strength. The travelers who recognize the journey's dangers are the ones who receive the Keeper's protection. Those who pretend self-sufficiency remain alone in their imagined strength.

How do we live as people who acknowledge vulnerability while trusting in God's protection? First, we must practice honest prayer. The psalmist didn't pretend confidence; he admitted his need: 'Where does my help come from?' Can we be equally honest? Second, we must recognize the false 'hills' we look to for security—whether financial reserves, human relationships, health practices, or even our own spiritual disciplines. Good as these may be, they are not our ultimate source of help.

God's Care Is Comprehensive and Constant

God's protection covers every aspect of life ("all evil"), every time of day ("day" and "night"), and every season of life ("going out and coming in"). His watchfulness never wavers ("will not slumber"). These principles stand in stark contrast to the self-reliance suggested by "God helps those who help themselves." The biblical narrative consistently shows God helping precisely those who cannot help themselves.

As we continue through the psalm, we discover something remarkable about God's protection. It's comprehensive, constant, and perfectly tailored to our vulnerability. "He will not let your foot be moved." On treacherous mountain paths, a misplaced foot could mean disaster. God's protection addresses the specific dangers we face. "He who keeps you will not slumber." While human guardians must eventually sleep, God remains perpetually vigilant. The repetition emphasizes this point: "He neither slumbers nor sleeps." "The LORD is your shade on your right hand." In ancient Near Eastern thought, the right side represented strength and honor. God provides shade—protection from the elements—complementing human capability with divine protection. "The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night." This poetic language encompasses all dangers, at all times. In the ancient world, sunstroke was a real threat, while the moon was associated with madness and danger. "The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life." The threefold repetition of "keep" in these final verses emphasizes God's preserving care. This protection extends to all of life's journeys ("going out and coming in") and for all time ("from this time forth and forevermore"). Notice what's missing from this psalm: any mention of the pilgrim's own strength, preparation, or worthiness. God's protection isn't presented as a response to human effort but as an expression of His, that is, God’s, character.

This leads us to two truths:

The first truth Psalm 121 reveals is that God's protection covers every aspect of our lives. Again, notice the language used: "He will not let your foot be moved" (v. 3). "The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand" (v. 5). "The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life" (v. 7). This is comprehensive care—from the smallest detail (your foot) to the largest concern (your life). From protection against natural dangers (the sun by day and the moon by night) to spiritual threats (all evil). Nothing falls outside God's watchful eye. This stands in stark contrast to the popular saying, "God helps those who help themselves." The biblical narrative consistently shows something quite different: God helps precisely those who cannot help themselves. Think of the Israelites trapped between Pharaoh's army and the Red Sea. Think of the widow of Zarephath down to her last meal. Think of Daniel in the lions' den. Think of the disciples in the storm-tossed boat. In each case, human resources had reached their limit—and that's exactly when God's comprehensive protection was most powerfully displayed. But let's be careful here. Again, comprehensive doesn't mean we never face difficulties or dangers. The psalm doesn't promise that the sun won't shine or that evil won't exist—it promises that God's people won't be ultimately destroyed by these things. His protection often works through difficulties rather than around them.

The second profound truth in Psalm 121 is that God's watchfulness is constant and never wavers. Verses 3-4 emphasize this with beautiful repetition: "He who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep." Unlike human guardians who grow tired and must rest, God's vigilance is perpetual. There is never a moment when His attention drifts away from His children. Never a second when His protective care takes a break. This constancy extends across all time: "The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night" (v. 6). In other words, God's protection covers every time of day—the bright noon and the darkest midnight. And it spans every season of life: "The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore" (v. 8). I'm reminded of Jesus' words in Matthew 28:20, "And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age." From the beginning of Scripture to its end, God reveals Himself as the ever-present, never-sleeping protector of His people. This is profoundly comforting in a world where human reliability is limited. Parents, as loving as they may be, cannot watch their children every moment. Friends, as loyal as they try to be, cannot always be there when needed. Even the most sophisticated security systems fail. But God's watchfulness? It's truly constant.

The Paradox of Humanity’s Free Will

Now we come to a question that naturally arises: If God's care is so comprehensive and constant, what role do human choices play? Does divine protection eliminate human responsibility? Does it override free will?

The biblical answer is a resounding no. Throughout Scripture, we see that God's sovereignty and human free will exist in a mysterious but real harmony.

Psalm 121 itself begins with human initiative: "I lift up my eyes to the hills." The psalmist makes a choice to look to God for help. The pilgrims singing this psalm on their journey to Jerusalem were actively walking the path, making decisions about when to rest and how to travel safely, all while trusting in God's protection.

In fact, God's care often works through human choices and actions, not apart from them. When Joseph told his brothers, "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good" (Genesis 50:20), he acknowledged both human free will and divine protection operating simultaneously.

We must also recognize that our choices and the choices of others do impact our lives. God's protection doesn't mean we can act recklessly and expect divine intervention. Nor does it mean we won't suffer from others' harmful decisions. The psalmist isn't suggesting that God's people never face consequences; rather, he's affirming that even in those consequences, God's keeping power remains active.

So we live in this beautiful tension: making real choices with real consequences while trusting in a God whose protective care never fails. We exercise wisdom and responsibility not because God's protection is insufficient, but because wise choices are one of the ways God typically protects us.

So What?

We live in a culture that worships self-sufficiency. From childhood, we're taught to "pull ourselves up by our bootstraps." Social media celebrates hustle culture and grinding it out. Even within Christian circles, we've sometimes baptized this self-reliance with spiritual language. But this cultural myth of "bootstrap Christianity" fails us in several ways: First, it creates exhaustion. When we believe everything depends on our efforts, we work ourselves to the breaking point. Burnout isn't just a modern workplace phenomenon—it's a spiritual crisis born of misplaced responsibility. Second, it fosters pride. When we succeed through our efforts, we take credit. When others struggle, we judge them for not trying hard enough. This attitude directly contradicts the humility that Christ modeled. Third, it distorts our understanding of grace. The gospel begins with the recognition that we cannot save ourselves. As Paul writes in Ephesians 2:8-9, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." I remember talking with a friend—a Gen X man raised on self-reliance—who told me, "My dad always said, 'No one's coming to save you. You gotta figure it out yourself.' For decades, I thought needing help meant I was weak." That mindset has done immense damage. It's not just exhausting; it's fundamentally untrue. No hero in Scripture ever "figured it out themselves."

So how do we actually do this? How do we shift from being self-reliant to being God-reliant? Let me give you some practical steps that have helped me. First, before your feet even hit the floor in the morning, start with a simple prayer: 'God, I need you today. I depend on you.' That's it! Just acknowledge your dependence right from the start. Second, practice what I call 'regular surrender' - throughout your day, pause and offer your plans, problems, and possibilities to God. It might be as simple as saying, 'This is yours, Lord.' Third, spend some time in the Psalms. They're full of this language of dependence, and they can teach us how to talk to God about our needs. Have you noticed how often the psalmists start by saying, 'I'm in trouble!' but end with 'But I trust you, God'? Fourth, find people who will remind you to look upward. We all need friends who will gently ask, 'Have you prayed about this yet?' when we're trying to muscle through on our own. And finally, keep track of God's faithfulness. Write down the times when He's been your help, so when you're tempted to rely on yourself, you can look back and remember His track record.

So what does dependence on God's help look like in practice?

Acknowledge Your Limitations

Begin each day with the humble admission that you are not self-sufficient. Like the pilgrim looking up at the hills, recognize the journey ahead exceeds your strength alone.

Pray from a Place of Dependence

Transform your prayer life from a list of requests to an acknowledgment of dependence. Instead of asking God to bless your self-sufficient plans, invite Him to direct your paths completely.

Embrace Community as God's Provision

God often provides help through others. Accepting help from fellow believers isn't weakness—it's receiving God's care through His body, the church.

Rest as an Act of Faith

In our 24/7 culture, choosing to rest declares, "The world will continue without my constant effort because God neither slumbers nor sleeps." This is why God gave us the Sabbath, church family. The Sabbath reminds us we are not indispensable—God is.

Reframe How You Help Others

When someone around you struggles, resist the urge to quote, "God helps those who help themselves." Instead, be God's hands and feet. Remind them that God helps those who cannot help themselves—just as He has helped you.

This way of living runs counter to our cultural programming. It requires unlearning the myth of self-sufficiency and embracing the truth of our dependence. But in this vulnerability, we discover the freedom Christ promised—a yoke that is easy and a burden that is light.

Conclusion

Brothers and sisters, as we conclude our journey through Psalm 121, I want to return to where we began: "From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth."

The One who crafted the mountains with His fingers, who hung the stars in their places, who set the boundaries of the seas—this same Creator has committed Himself to be your keeper. His eye is on you. His hand is over you. His care surrounds you.

This doesn't mean the journey will be easy. The pilgrims who first sang this psalm still had to walk the difficult road to Jerusalem. You and I still have to navigate the challenges of our lives, making choices and sometimes facing painful consequences of our own decisions or others'.

But we do not walk alone. We do not face these challenges unprotected. The Maker of heaven and earth goes with us, His care comprehensive enough to cover every aspect of our lives, His watchfulness constant enough to never miss a moment.

So today, whatever hill you're facing, whatever mountain looms before you, lift up your eyes. Your help comes from the Lord. Not because you've earned it. Not because you've figured everything out. But because this is who He is: the God whose care never fails, whose watch never ends, whose love never diminishes.

May we walk in the confidence of Psalm 121, exercising our freedom and responsibility while resting in the perfect care of our ever-present helper. Amen.

Amen

Let us Pray: God, everything in this life goes through you, not by you. You see everything and are in everything. Though we may live in a world with sin and failings, you are a God that is constantly and consistently with us, through life’s ups and downs. As we leave here today and go our separate ways, let us remember that You alone are sovereign, you alone are Lord, and it is on you that we must put our faith and trust.

Numbers 6:24–26 “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”