Psalm 13

Read: Psalm 13

Introduction

Have you ever had a season in life where God felt… absent?

Not just silent, but distant. Hidden. Like He turned His face away and left you to figure things out on your own.

If you’ve ever been there, you’re not alone.

Psalm 13 is a short psalm, just six verses, but it contains a cry that many of us have whispered—sometimes shouted—in our darkest nights: “How long, O Lord?”

What I love about this psalm is that it gives us permission to be honest. It shows us that God welcomes not just our praise but our pain—our questions, our frustration, even our despair.

Let’s walk through this psalm together. I want us to notice three simple movements in David’s words:

Despair – when God feels far.

Prayer – the turning point.

Trust – the quiet resolution of hope.

1. Despair: “How long, O Lord?” (vv.1–2)

“How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I take counsel in my soul

and have sorrow in my heart all the day?

How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?”

You can feel the ache in David’s voice. He’s not asking for theological answers here—he’s expressing emotional agony. And he repeats that haunting question four times: “How long?”

Not minutes. Not hours. He’s speaking of long, drawn-out, unresolved suffering.

He feels forgotten.

He feels like God has turned away His face.

He’s wrestling with anxious thoughts.

And his enemies? They seem to be winning.

Maybe you’ve been there. Maybe you’re there now.

It’s that season when you’re praying, but God doesn’t seem to answer. When you’re waiting, but the rescue doesn’t come. When you used to feel God’s nearness—but now it just feels like silence and shadows. And what’s worse is, you don’t feel like you can talk about it.

Many Christians, sadly, are taught to suppress these feelings. We’re told that the Christian life is all about joy, victory, and abundance—so when sorrow hits, we think we must be doing something wrong. We keep it to ourselves. We feel ashamed.

But here’s the good news: God already knows your heart. And He wants you to bring it to Him anyway.

Psalm 13 is a reminder that even the godliest saints—David, a man after God’s own heart—felt this kind of darkness. And he didn’t pretend otherwise. He cried out honestly.

Reasons We Feel Abandoned

Let’s unpack some of what David might be feeling—and what we feel too:

1. The struggle feels prolonged. David says, “Will you forget me forever?” When suffering is short, we can often endure it with faith. But when it stretches on—weeks, months, even years—it starts to erode our hope. We wonder, “Will this ever end?”

2. The blessings seem to be gone. David doesn’t just feel forgotten—he feels like God is hiding His face. In Scripture, God’s face shining upon someone is a sign of favor and blessing. When His face is hidden, it feels like the blessings have stopped flowing.

3. The inner life is in turmoil. David says, “How long must I wrestle with my thoughts?” Have you ever been there? Your mind races, your heart aches, and there seems to be no peace.

4. The enemy seems to win. Whether it’s an actual enemy, a spiritual attack, or just the pressures of life, David feels like he’s losing the battle. And it leads him to despair.

And yet… he brings all of it to God.

That alone is a step of faith. To cry out to God even when you feel abandoned by Him is to affirm that He is still your only hope. That’s what David does.

2. Prayer: “Look, Answer, Give Light” (vv.3–4)

“Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;

light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,

lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”

lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

Now the tone begins to shift. It’s not because David’s situation has changed. His enemies are still there. His thoughts are still racing. God hasn’t audibly answered.

But David prays.

And in doing so, he takes the first step out of despair.

Notice what he asks for:

1. “Consider me [Look on me]” David wants to know that God sees him. It’s not a request for instant rescue—it’s a plea for God’s attention. Do You still see me, Lord?

2. “Answer me.” David doesn’t just want to be seen. He longs to hear from God. To know that the silence will not last forever. To sense God’s voice breaking into the darkness.

3. “Light up my eyes.” This is a Hebrew way of saying, “Restore me.” Bring me back to life. Don’t let me sink into despair. David feels like he’s close to death—emotionally, spiritually, even physically. He needs light in his eyes again.

And then he says something sobering: “Or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him.’”

This is serious. David is not being dramatic. He’s being real. He’s acknowledging how low he’s gone—and how desperately he needs God to act.

And friends, there are times in our lives when our most spiritual act is not preaching, or singing, or serving. It’s simply praying through tears: Lord, look at me. Answer me. Restore me.

You don’t need fancy words. You just need to reach.

Because when you pray like that, you are admitting something powerful: Even in your lowest moment, you still believe God is there.

3. Trust: “But I have trusted…” (vv.5–6)

“But I have trusted in your steadfast love;

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the LORD,

because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

This is remarkable. David doesn’t wait for his circumstances to change. He doesn’t wait for the clouds to part. He chooses to trust God now, in the middle of the sorrow.

Notice the shift in tone:

From questioning to confidence.

From despair to delight.

From silence to singing.

How does he get there?

Look at verse 5: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love.”

David reminds himself of something that hasn’t changed: God’s covenant love. The Hebrew word is hesed — God’s loyal, steadfast, never-failing love.

That love isn’t based on David’s feelings. It’s not dependent on David’s faithfulness. It’s rooted in God’s character.

Even when David can’t see it, that love holds him fast.

So David says:

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation — not because I feel better, but because I know You are good.

I will sing to the LORD — not because the pain is gone, but because You have been faithful.

He looks back on God’s past goodness (last sentence): “because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

And he lets that memory give him strength for today.

Friends, sometimes the only way forward is to remember what God has already done. Look back at the grace you received before. Let it remind you: He is not done yet.

Jesus and the Greater Cry

Psalm 13 isn’t just about David. It points us to Jesus.

No one ever felt more truly abandoned than Jesus did on the cross. He cried out, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”

He entered into our deepest darkness—not because He deserved it, but because we did. He bore the silence of heaven so that we could be heard. He faced death so we could have life.

And now, because of Jesus: We are never truly forgotten. God’s face is turned toward us in Christ. The silence is not condemnation but invitation: Come closer. Trust deeper. Hold fast.

The gospel doesn’t promise a life without sorrow. But it does promise a Savior who walks with us through every valley—and who leads us home.

Conclusion

You may be asking that question today.

How long will this grief last?

How long will this battle continue?

How long will I feel forgotten?

The answer, honestly, is that we often don’t know. But here’s what we do know:

God sees you. God hears you. God loves you. And God will not abandon you.

If you’re in a Psalm 13 season—don’t give up. Cry out. Pray. Trust.

The clouds may not lift immediately. But they will lift.

And one day, like David, you will say:

“I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

Until that day, keep praying. Keep trusting. Keep singing.

And may the steadfast (covenantal) love of the Lord be your anchor in every storm.

Prayer

Gracious and loving Father,

We come before You now with hearts that have been opened by Your Word. We thank You for Psalm 13—for David’s honesty, for the rawness of his cry, and for the hope that rises in the end. Thank You for reminding us that You are not afraid of our questions or our pain, and that even when we feel forgotten, we are never forsaken.

Lord, for those among us who feel like they’re in a season of silence—who are crying, “How long, O Lord?”—would You draw near. Lift up their heads. Give light to their eyes. Let them know that You see them, hear them, and love them still.

Teach us, like David, to turn to You in prayer—not just when we are strong, but especially when we are weak. Strengthen our trust in Your steadfast love. Help us to rejoice in Your salvation, even before the answer comes. And let our hearts be quick to sing again of Your goodness.

Most of all, we thank You for Jesus—who bore the greatest silence of all on the cross so that we would never be abandoned. Because of Him, we have hope. Because of Him, we can pray. Because of Him, we will sing.

We rest now in Your mercy and look to You with faith.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.