“I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure” (Psalm 40:1,2)
Read Psalm 40:1–11.
There’s a kind of waiting that grinds. The kind where you’ve done everything right — prayed, served, persevered — and nothing shifts. Where your faith feels static, and your prayers seem unheard. David knew this waiting. He didn’t downplay it or romanticize it: “I waited patiently for the Lord.” The original Hebrew text can be interpreted as, “I waited and waited.” It’s not serene; it’s survival.
David called his place of despair “the desolate pit”. Sometimes, the pit is burnout. Sometimes, it’s depression. Sometimes, it’s the slow suffocation of carrying other people’s expectations while pretending you’re fine. The miry bog clings — fear of failure, resentment that you can’t say aloud, the quiet cynicism that creeps in when God feels absent.
And yet, David doesn’t stay in the mud. He’s pulled out, not because he climbed harder, but because God reached lower. “He drew me up … set my feet upon a rock.” Grace does what striving never could.
Notice that the rescue doesn’t erase the scars. David still remembers the pit. He still names the waiting. Faith doesn’t mean pretending it never happened; it means standing steady while you still smell like the mud you came from.
Here we are in 2026. It’s still early in the year — the time we’re meant to feel renewed, focused and ready. But maybe you already feel spent. Perhaps you’re already operating from exhaustion; physical, mental, and spiritual. If so, you’re right where grace works.
Maybe “waiting and waiting” is your first act of faith this year. Not hustling, not forcing; just holding your ground while God does what only He can — because He still pulls people out of pits, even when the calendar’s shiny and your soul isn’t.
So, if you’re in the thick of it, stop polishing the mud or trying to climb your own way out of the pit. Wait … not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve handed it over. Trust that the waiting isn’t wasted. Give God the truth of it and let Him meet you there. Let him lift you again. Let Him restore you to solid and steady ground.
St. Paul writes to us living in disciplining mode from Romans 5:3-5: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”
The pit isn’t the end of the story. It’s where grace starts to write a new one.
Prayer
God, I’m tired of pretending the pit doesn’t exist. You see the exhaustion, the fear and the ache I’ve stopped naming. Meet me there. Pull me up again. Amen.
Stay encouraged!
Pastor Mike
