Psalms 77:1 - Meaning and Application

Here we see a vivid picture of a good man under deep gloom, as if he has fallen into a terrible pit of mud and is struggling to climb out. We are meant to see ourselves here if we are weary and sad in spirit. The psalmist seems to have written after the worst part of the struggle had passed, because he says, “I cried to God, and he listened to me” (Psalm 77:1). While he was in the middle of it, he did not feel that comfort yet, but he puts it at the start to show that his trouble did not end in despair.

Notice, first, his prayers in the middle of sorrow. When he was afflicted, he prayed (James 5:13), and when he was in agony, he prayed all the more urgently (Psalm 77:1). He says, “My voice went to God, and I cried out with my voice to God.” He was full of complaints and loud cries, but he turned them toward God and made them into prayer, spoken prayer, and very earnest prayer. That gave him some relief, and it was the right path toward help. In the day of trouble, he sought the Lord. Days of trouble should be days of prayer, especially when the trouble is inward and God seems far away. We must seek him until we find him.

He did not try to shake off his distress by keeping busy or seeking amusement. Instead, he sought God, his favor, and his grace. People under mental trouble should not think they can drink it away or laugh it away. They must pray it away. The words may also mean that his hand was stretched out all night and did not stop, showing the steady pressure of his prayers. Compare (Psalm 143:5-6).

Next, notice his grief. Grief is deeply sad when it has no break in it. That was true for him. “My pain ran in the night,” like an inward wound that kept bleeding, and it did not stop, even in the time meant for rest and sleep. Grief is also very heavy when it will not allow comfort, and that was his case too. “My soul refused to be comforted.” He would not listen to those who tried to comfort him. Just as bitter medicine can spoil food, so a sad heart can turn songs into a burden (Proverbs 25:20). He did not want to think about the things that should have comforted him. He pushed them away, as people do when they cling to sorrow. Those who refuse comfort in sorrow do wrong to themselves, and they also dishonor God.

Then we see his troubled thoughts. He thought so much about his trouble, whether it was personal or about the public state of things, that even helpful things seemed to make him sadder. He remembered God, but instead of comfort, he felt troubled, like Job when he said, “I am terrified at his presence” (Job 23:15). His mind fixed on God’s justice, wrath, and great majesty, and so even God seemed frightening to him. One would think that pouring out his soul before God would bring relief, but it did not. He complained, yet his spirit stayed overwhelmed.

Even sleep would not come. Sleep, when it is calm and refreshing, gives us a break from grief and care. But here he says God kept his eyes open with terrors, and he tossed and turned until morning. He also could not speak clearly because his thoughts were so confused and his spirit so disturbed. He kept silence even from good words, though his heart was hot within him. He was like a bottle about to burst, yet too upset to speak. Grief wears people down most when it is shut inside like that.

He also looked back on former days and compared them with the present. “I considered the days of old,” he says, and our past ease can make present trouble feel worse. But sad people often dwell too much on old times and make them seem greater than they were, just to justify their present unhappiness. We should not say the former days were better than these, because we do not really know that they were (Ecclesiastes 7:10). Nor should we let lost comforts make us ungrateful for the ones still left, or impatient under our trials. He also remembered his song in the night, the comforts that had helped him in earlier sorrows and loneliness. He tried to sing them again, but he was out of tune for them, and remembering them only made his soul pour out in grief (Psalm 43:4). See also (Job 35:10).

Then came his fears and questions. He talked to himself and asked, “What will become of this? What can I expect in the end?” He examined the cause of his trouble and asked why God was dealing with him this way and what the result would be. He began to ask whether the Lord would cast off forever, whether he would never again be favorable, whether his mercy was gone for good, whether his promise had failed forever, whether God had forgotten to be gracious, and whether his tender mercy was shut up in anger (Psalm 77:7-9). This is the language of a sorrowful soul walking in darkness and lacking light, which is not unusual even for those who fear the Lord and obey him (Isaiah 50:10).

He can be seen here in two ways. First, he is groaning under a very heavy burden. God hid his face from him and withdrew the usual signs of his favor. Spiritual trouble is the hardest trouble for a gracious soul. Nothing wounds more deeply than the thought that God is angry, or that his favor is hidden, or that his promise is set aside. That hurts the spirit, and who can bear that? Second, he is wrestling with a strong temptation. Even God’s own people, in a dark and cloudy day, may be tempted to make desperate conclusions about their own spiritual state and about the church and kingdom of God in the world. They may be tempted to think all is lost, that God has abandoned them, that the covenant of grace has failed, and that his tender mercy will never return. But we must not yield to such thoughts. If fear and sadness ask these harsh questions, faith must answer from Scripture: “Will the Lord cast off forever?” God forbid (Romans 11:1).

No, the Lord will not cast off his people (Psalm 94:14). Will he never show favor again? Yes, he will. Though he may bring grief, he will also have compassion (Lamentations 3:32). Has his mercy been gone forever? No, his mercy lasts forever, from everlasting to everlasting (Psalm 103:17). Has his promise failed forever? No, it is impossible for God to lie (Hebrews 6:18). Has God forgotten to be gracious? No, he cannot deny himself, or the gracious and merciful name he has made known (Exodus 34:6). Has he, in anger, shut up his tender mercies? No, they are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). So the Lord still says, “How can I give you up, Ephraim?” (Hosea 11:8-9).

The psalmist was moving along in these dark and troubled thoughts when he suddenly stopped himself with the word Selah, which means, “Pause here; go no farther.” He then corrected himself in Psalm 77:10, saying, “This is my infirmity.” That is, “This is not a wise thought. It is my weakness.” Some take it to mean, “This is my trouble, the sorrow that has come to me, and I must bear it. Everyone has some burden in the flesh, and this is mine, the cross I must carry.” But it is better to understand him as saying, “This is my sin. It is my own corruption, the plague in my heart.” These doubts and fears come from weak faith and from a troubled mind.

We all know something in ourselves that we must call our infirmity, a sin that clings to us easily. Discouragement under suffering, and mistrust of God, are too often the weaknesses of good people. Because of that, we should look at them with sorrow and shame, just as the psalmist did: “This is my infirmity.” When this rises up in us, we must stop it at once and not let unbelief keep speaking. We must push back against doubt the way the psalmist does here: “But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

He had been thinking about the years of long ago (Psalm 77:5), and about blessings once enjoyed. At first, that only made him more sad. But now he looked at them as the years of the right hand of the Most High, meaning that those old blessings came from the Ancient of Days, from the power and wise rule of God’s right hand, he who is over all, God blessed forever. That quieted him, because the Most High can, with his right hand, do whatever changes he pleases.