Father, I pray that those of us who experience tough circumstances can find comfort and peace in remembering who You are and what You have done for us. I pray for despondent readers. May they feel the warmth of Your embrace and adore the wonderful God You are. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I was a young yet old and worn adult sitting in a Life.Church service on a typical Sunday morning. I remember going to church regularly at the time, looking for inspiration in my life’s bleak reality. I do not remember what the sermon series was about. I couldn’t summarize the sermon that day, but Pastor Craig Groeschel was preaching over Psalm 77. I absolutely remember that. I would guess it was the first time I had ever really read Psalm 77. Bible reading was practically non-existent because I didn’t understand most of it. Who was Asaph? Didn’t David write these? Why was everyone always complaining in the Psalms? Aren’t they all just saying we should praise the Lord? What if I don’t feel like praising the Lord right now?

Maybe Asaph could question why God had forgotten him, but me? No. I was just a regular person and not a psalmist in the Bible.

If you know this particular psalm, or many psalms for that matter, you know that the word “but” is pivotal in these songs of praise and lament.

When I think of the word “but” in conversation or in text, I see someone about to let me down. There is a build-up before the conjunction and disappointment after it. “Your tone was great, but your intonation needs work.” “Yes, I would love to hang out, but I must study.” “You’re good, but not great.” “I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.” When introducing a ” but”, I tend not to believe what came before it. What a person usually wants to say comes after the “but.”

BUT notice what happens is God’s Word

“. . . like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions. . .” Ephesians 2:2-5 (NIV)
“My heart and flesh may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26 (NIV)
“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8 (NIV)

This word used in the Psalms (approx. 115 times) has proven to be a relieving conjunction that brings a cool, refreshing hope and encouragement right down the middle of my hot, furrowed brow. I first discovered this relief after listening to Craig’s sermon.

When the phrase but God comes across my eyes in the pages of my Bible, it is a comforting sigh of relief and a reminder of endless love. It is like a tight, squeezing hug of affirmation. To use a classical music reference, the but in the Psalms is like the resolution to the tonic that we have been waiting for. There is a build up of dancing melodies and distant chords, and when our ears know the home chord is near, we can relax. It is a reminder that after the “but,” He will never let us down.

Psalm 77 is a lament. The psalmist is crying out to God and pleading with Him to answer his cries. He isn’t comforted and cannot sleep. He even says the good old days are gone and the joyful songs in his life have stopped. Then there are six heartbreaking questions that I have asked many times myself.

“Has the Lord rejected me forever? Will he never again be kind to me? Is his unfailing love gone forever? Have his promises permanently failed? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he slammed the door on his compassion?” Psalm 77: 7-9 (NLT)

Oh, how I have cried these words over and over again! Oh, how I have resolved the answer to be yes to every single one of these questions many times in my life! Verse 10 seems to be the psalmist’s surrender to an affirmative answer as well.
“And I said, ‘This is my fate; the Most High has turned his hand against me.’”
He felt forgotten. I felt forgotten.

The Message version says in verse 10: “Just my luck, I said. “The High God retires just the moment I need him.”
When I think back to the strenuous years of depression and debilitating anxiety I recall saying verse 10 many times with that same attitude. I thought, “God isn’t here. God doesn’t care about me. I’m too broken to be fixed. . . and I need to be fixed.” Like verse 2 of Psalm 77 says, “. . . my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.” That wound seemed to burst open whenever stress, anxiety, or a feeling of unworthiness came my way (which was every day). The inability to cope with all of these negative emotions, and my defeated perspective, led me to push through the pain of gaping wounds while yelling at my weak self to the point of absolute despondency. Then I wallowed in hopelessness, paralyzed in front of an impersonal God who I thought did not see me.

BUT, my dear reader, praise God that the psalm is not over!

I said earlier that I didn’t remember what Craig Groeschel’s sermon on Psalm 77 was about. Well, I know what it was about for me. God was speaking to me through verse 11.
“But then I recall [Hebrew: zakar] all you have done, O Lord; I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago.” (NLT)
“Once again I’ll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders; I’ll ponder all the things you’ve accomplished, and give a long, loving look at your acts.” (MSG)
“I will remember the Lord’s works; yes, I will remember your ancient wonders.” (CSB)

The Hebrew word for remember is zakar. Zakar means more than the English definition of remember. “To zakar is to employ your hands and feet and lips to engage in whatever action that remembrance requires ¹.” This is a word of action. The psalmist is not passively recalling the wonderful deeds of the Lord. He is engaging in the discipline of really remembering what the Lord has done. He shifts from the magnified, close-up view of the miseries of his life (which are very real, mind you) to the zoomed-out view of the wonders God has done over all time and space. The rest of the psalm specifically speaks of some of these wonderful deeds (v.14-20).

When I read the rest of the psalm I tend to skim it quickly or gloss over it. Why? First, I think my brain dismisses the events and stories described because I’ve heard or read them all more than a couple of times. I know what God has done for His people when they came out of Egypt. I know He is mighty enough to part the Red Sea and lead Israel to the promised land. Second, I think I am far removed from the people making their way into the promised land by not only giant space and time, but also by circumstances, culture and selfishness. Yes, selfishness.

What does the rest of the psalm have to do with me? Yes, God did these things described in v. 14-20. He made the waters obey Him, He made the earth tremble, He caused the thunder and lightning to occur. But He did that for them, not me. What kind of waters has He parted in my life? What can I lay my eyes on that He has done for me?

I realized I was being too narrow-minded and selfish. He did do those things and more for me and all of His people. My eyes were opened to how powerful His love is for me. I remember He knit me together in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13), He patiently provided for me, He gave me the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5), He gave me a spirit of power love and self-control (2Tim 1:7). He gave His only Son to die for my sins. That Son prayed for me (John 17), that Son became acquainted with grief for me (Heb. 4:15). I will be welcomed into His temple, and He will wipe away every tear from my eyes when I see Him (Rev. 21:4).

I think I was so moved by Pastor Craig’s sermon that random Sunday because God reminded me through His Word that when I feel forgotten by Him, when I feel He has turned away from me, I can flex and work that muscle of zakar to enter back into the truth that He absolutely is there for me. I may feel alone but I am not. I may feel so deep in darkness but He is right there. I pray you remember, friends, that this journey to truly remember doesn’t always happen instantly or overnight but He is faithful and loves us with an everlasting love.

1. Bird, Chad. “The One Hebrew Word You Don’t Want to Forget.” 2021, https://doi.org/12/17/2024. Accessed 17 Dec. 2024. ↩︎