I love the Psalms.
I believe you do too. One of my spiritual rhythms is praying a psalm a day. I don’t always hit that goal, but when I do sit with these songs—listening to the psalmist’s honesty and the Lord’s glory in their prayers—I always walk away richer.
Last week, I was reading and praying through Psalm 13, and I was struck by how true to life it is. Sometimes, when you listen to how certain believers speak, you can get the false impression that suffering, doubt, and heartache are somehow foreign to the Christian life.
Let me assure you—they are not.
The Holy Spirit confirms this truth by inspiring psalms like this one, and by preserving them in the Scriptures for us.
“How Long…”
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
— Psalm 13:1
Before I could move on to the rest of the psalm, verse 1 held me. It held me for a while.
When you’re going through something hard—whether it’s a health issue, financial strain, spiritual pressure, recurring weakness, leadership crisis, fractured relationships, or the pain of a child breaking your heart—you have a built-in clock. A timeline. One by which you hope, wish, and—dare I say—expect the trial to end.
And if we’re honest, we expect God to honour that timeline. We want Him to change the situation now.
But He rarely does.
God almost always takes longer than we would like, or even think is “wise.”
David cries, “How long, Lord?” because—according to his internal clock—God is late. Not just five or ten minutes late, but hours, maybe days late. And when someone is that late, you don’t just wonder where they are—you begin to worry. To question. To hurt.
David’s feeling of God’s delay creates tension in his relationship with God—tension that demands resolution.
If we’re honest, we’ve all been there. You might even be there right now.
Dealing with God’s “Lateness”
Let me say this clearly: It’s okay to feel that way.
It’s normal to wrestle with what feels like divine delay. In fact, it’s a crucial part of our relationship and growth in Jesus Christ.
Our Internal Clock
Before we dive deeper into the psalm, let’s talk about this internal clock of ours. In the natural world, all clocks are set to a global standard called Coordinated Universal Time (UTC).
Spiritually, however, our clocks are often set to Comfort Self Time (CST).
We measure time in trials based on:
- How much comfort we’re experiencing
- How much internal or external resource (like patience, wisdom, social connections, finances, etc.) we think we have stocked up to manage the discomfort
You know this intuitively. When you’re enjoying something, time flies. When you’re in pain, time drags. And when you hit the end of your rope—when all your personal resources are gone—any time beyond that point feels unjustifiably long.
It feels late.
God’s Clock
But God operates on a very different clock. He measures time in a trial based on:
- How much glory the Father receives
- How much Christlikeness is formed in us
- How much of Jesus’ divine daily bread is being provided to sustain us
- How many others will be touched through the trial
God measures time through the lens of His glory, your good, and the blessing of others.
With this in mind, God will almost always appear “late”—because He’s doing something far deeper than just ending your pain. He’s weaning you off:
- A comfort that depends entirely on circumstances, and replacing it with unshakable peace rooted in Him
- Dependence on your limited resources, and moving you toward trust in the inexhaustible riches of Jesus Christ
“Lord…”
David’s anguish—and ours—is compounded by this truth: we’re not waiting on a fellow human with limitations. We’re waiting on Almighty God.
There’s nothing He cannot do. So why isn’t He doing something—anything?
Because He is the Lord.
And because He is the Lord, we expect Him to act. To act in power. To act now. Sometimes He does. But more often, not in the way or at the time we prefer.
He is working according to His clock—and the principles that govern it.
“Will You Forget Me?”
In the pain of unmet expectations, we can start to see God in a distorted light. We may think, “I know He can, but He isn’t. Maybe He’s forgotten me. Maybe He cares more about others than He does about me.”
I’ve been there. I remember a season in my life when I asked God plainly,
“Am I the least in your family, that you’re not answering me in my distress?”
Psalm 13 gives us permission to wrestle with thoughts like that.
When those thoughts come, the enemy will whisper, “You’re not a real Christian. Your faith is weak.”
But in these dark moments, you’re walking the same path as generations of saints before you. You will come through the valley of the shadow of death—just like they did.
“How Long Will You Hide Your Face?”
This is the climax of David’s cry. It’s not just that God seems to have forgotten him—it’s that He feels absent.
In Hebrew, the word “face” often symbolizes presence.
David didn’t just feel ignored—he felt abandoned. He felt invisible to the One he loved. And for those who know and love God, nothing hurts more.
And Yet…
David is still praying.
Still talking.
Still reaching out to the Lord.
If you’re in that place today, let me encourage you: do the same.
Even when you feel forgotten and abandoned, let your heart—and your faith—reach out to the God who loves you and gave Himself for you.
Even if it’s a simple cry: “Lord, remember me.”
We’ll spend a little more time in Psalm 13 over the next few articles.
See you then.
