Psalms 19:7

Psalm 19 is a poem written by King David — a shepherd who became one of Israel's greatest kings — that celebrates two ways God reveals himself: through the created world and through his written word. This verse opens the second half of the psalm, shifting from sky and stars to Scripture. When David says 'the law of the Lord,' he's referring to the Torah — God's instructions and teachings given to the people of Israel. In David's world, these were not experienced as a burden but as a gift. The word 'simple' here doesn't mean unintelligent — in Hebrew it describes someone who is open, impressionable, and still being formed.

Lord, I bring you an honest and open heart today. Let your word do what you promised — revive what's been slowly dying in me, and make me wiser than I could ever become on my own. I don't need to have it all together. I just need you. Amen.

The word 'reviving' does something unexpected here. We tend to associate laws with limits, with walls, with things that close in. But David reaches for the language of CPR — of something bringing the nearly-dead back to life. Like cold water to someone who's been out in the heat too long. Like sleep after you've been running on empty for weeks. Not a cage, but a cure. David knew the law not as an opponent to outmaneuver, but as a companion that oriented him when he was lost and steadied him when he was spinning out. 'Making wise the simple.' There's no shame in that phrase — it's an invitation. The person who is still open, still teachable, still willing to be shaped — that's the person the Word can work with. Pride closes the hands. Humility opens them. You don't have to have your theology airtight or your faith figured out for Scripture to do something real in you. You just have to come with honest hands and a heart that's willing. That's the kind of simple that becomes wise.