Psalms 71:20

Psalm 71 is written by someone looking back over a long life of faith — someone aging, who has followed God from youth and now faces new threats and enemies. The writer speaks directly and honestly to God, acknowledging not just that trouble came, but that God allowed it — "you have made me see troubles, many and bitter." That's a raw, theologically bold thing to say. Yet the very next breath is confidence: God will restore, God will bring up. The phrase "from the depths of the earth" is a poetic image for the lowest, most hopeless place a person can be — even death itself. It's a declaration that no depth is beyond God's reach.

God, I won't pretend the troubles haven't been many, or that some of them haven't been bitter. But I'm choosing today to believe what this old psalmist believed — that you restore, that no depth is too deep for you to reach. Bring me up. Amen.

What makes this verse startling isn't the hope at the end — it's the honesty at the beginning. The psalmist doesn't say "despite the troubles I've faced" or "through the difficult seasons." He says God made him see troubles. Many. Bitter. That's not polished theology. That's someone who has lived long enough to stop softening the story. And somehow, that unflinching honesty is what makes the hope feel real — not a greeting card, but a conviction hammered out on the anvil of an actual life. If you're somewhere deep right now — not mildly uncomfortable but genuinely in the dark, wondering if this is just how things stay — this old voice has something for you. Not a tidy answer. Just this: the same God who was present as you went down is the God who reaches into the depths to bring back up. The psalmist has been there. He came back. And he wrote this down so you'd know it was possible.