Portugal, March 2026. “Wait for God, for I will again praise Him for the help of His presence.” — Psalm 42:5
The Wharf
I had a dream this week.
A ship was coming to help. It was heading for shore, and a friend took a small motorboat out to meet it and guide it in.
Another friend and I walked out onto the wharf to get a better view.
The ocean was turbulent. Then an extra-huge wave came in and swept us off the wharf and into the sea.
That’s when I found out the person I was with couldn’t swim. Thankfully, they stayed calm. I could hold them with one hand and tread water with the other, keeping my head up so I could call for help.
Fighting to stay calm was critical to our survival. When we’re overwhelmed, the worst thing we can do is panic and start thrashing around. You can’t hold up someone who is thrashing.
Here’s what I keep coming back to. Help was on its way. It just hadn’t reached us yet.
Psalm 42 is a prayer for that in-between place. It’s a prayer for when you’re overwhelmed. And it shows us how to put on a life jacket so we can keep floating until help comes.
Thirsty
Psalm 42 opens a new scroll. The Psalms are a set of five scrolls, and this is the first song in the second one. It comes from the sons of Korah, a family of temple singers.
They begin with an animal.
“As the deer pants for the water brooks, So my soul pants for You, God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; When shall I come and appear before God?”
That Hebrew word for “pants” is rare. Outside this psalm, it shows up in only one other place in the entire Old Testament: Joel 1:20.
Joel is describing a disaster. Fire has burned through the pastures. The stream beds have dried up. And “even the animals of the field pant for You.”
Joel even uses the same phrase for those dry stream beds that Psalm 42 uses for the “water brooks.”
So picture a drought. Picture a deer standing at a creek that should be running, and isn’t.
The psalmist is parched. And all he has is his own tears.
“My tears have been my food day and night, While they say to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?’”
Tears for breakfast. Tears for supper. And all day long, people ask the question that cuts deepest.
Remembering the Good Old Days
The writer’s mind drifts back.
“These things I remember and I pour out my soul within me. For I used to go along with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God, With the voice of joy and thanksgiving, a multitude celebrating a festival.”
This author was a leader. He used to walk at the front of the festival crowd, leading a multitude into God’s presence.
He knows what that feels like. I picture him in the middle of the singing, with God so near the air felt thick with Him. Now he’s far from that place. It’s like his oxygen is being cut off. His tears had been going in. Now his soul is pouring out.
At this point, remembering doesn’t help. It makes the ache sharper. Some of you know exactly what that’s like. You used to lead others to God, and right now you feel bone dry.
Xingu River, 1999. Prayerwalking – Memories of the good old days. People came by boats of all sizes from far and wide. We would butcher and eat a whole cow in a weekend, and hope was tangible.
Putting On the Life Jacket
The psalmist has learned what to do. He starts encouraging himself.
“Why are you in despair, my soul? And why are you restless within me? Wait for God, for I will again praise Him For the help of His presence.”
This is his life jacket.
He doesn’t let his soul do all the talking. He doesn’t let his circumstances or those around him do all the talking. He tells his soul what he knows. He has to tell his own soul, in words, to calm down. To wait.
The Hebrew word for “wait” can also mean “hope.” It means waiting with expectation, eyes on the horizon, like someone in the water watching for the boat.
That’s active waiting.
Wait for God. Stop thrashing. Help is coming.
And notice, he doesn’t claim to feel better. He says, “I will again praise Him.” He isn’t there yet.
A life jacket doesn’t get you out of the water. It holds you up while you wait.
Limitless Water
Then the scene shifts.
“O my God, my soul is in despair within me; Therefore I remember You from the land of the Jordan And the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.”
His soul is still in despair. So he does what the chorus told him to do. He remembers God.
And his imagination heads north, to where the water comes from.
Hermon is the giant: the tallest mountain in the land, snow-capped for much of the year. Its snow and rain sink into the rock and burst out as springs at its foot, the headwaters of the Jordan.
Then he goes further.
“Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls; All Your breakers and Your waves have passed over me.”
Watch the water grow. The psalm began with a deer at a dry brook. Now it’s springs. Waterfalls. Then the deep itself, the ocean. Breakers. Waves.
More water than anyone could ever drink.
And he’s still thirsty.
Worse, the waves are going over his head. The thirsty man is drowning.
It was never water he was thirsty for.
But did you catch the pronouns? Your waterfalls. Your breakers. Your waves. Even the waves going over him belong to God.
And if the waves are God’s, so is the help.
A Song in the Night
Right in the middle of the waves comes this:
“The LORD will send His goodness in the daytime; And His song will be with me in the night, A prayer to the God of my life.”
If waiting is the life jacket, remembering God is the nourishment that keeps you going while you wait. But he doesn’t suddenly turn cheerful. The very next line:
“I will say to God my rock, ‘Why have You forgotten me?’”
In other words: You have so much water. Why am I still thirsty?
The taunt strikes deep: “Where is your God?”
His enemies are real, and their mocking feels to him like breaking bones. Listen closely. They ask, “Where is your God?” And in the very next breath, he is asking God, “Why have You forgotten me?”Their questions hit a nerve.
Back in the festival days, one can imagine that if someone had asked, “Where is your God?” the question would have bounced right off. It was obvious. God was right there, in the middle of the singing. Same words. Different reaction. Now, far from that place, the same words get under his skin. The people are real, and the threats are real. The doubts get inside his head and threaten to sink him.
That happens to us too. Before long, the loudest taunting voice is our own thought life.
That’s why the chorus matters so much. The psalmist talks back.
The Second Chorus
Then the chorus comes again.
“Why are you in despair, my soul? And why are you restless within me? Wait for God, for I will yet praise Him, The help of my countenance and my God.”
Verse 11 repeats verse 5. The waves keep coming, so he keeps buckling the life jacket.
By now it’s clear what water he’s been thirsty for. It’s the presence of God. As a deer in a dry land needs water, we need to know God’s presence.
Psalm 42 ends without a rescue scene. The psalmist is still actively waiting to sense God’s presence.
Jesus in Deep Water
Many early Christians read the Psalms in a Greek translation. There, the chorus of Psalm 42 asks, “Why are you deeply grieved, my soul?”
On the night He was betrayed, in Gethsemane, Jesus said to His friends:
“My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death” (Mark 14:34).
Jesus went under all of it. Every breaker. Every wave. And He came up again.
When you pray Psalm 42, you’re praying words Jesus carried into deeper water than any of us will ever go.
Until Help Comes
Maybe this week you feel like you’re dying of thirst. Or maybe you feel like you’re drowning.
Psalm 42 is a prayer for you.
Put on the life jacket. Notice which voices have moved inside you. Then talk back to your soul. Remind it who God is: His goodness sent by day, His song in the night. And tell it to wait for Him.
Stay calm. Thrashing could take you and those who try to help you under.
Help is on the way.
Three Questions I’m Carrying From Psalm 42
1. Whose voice is my soul repeating?
What do I need to tell it back?
2. Where am I thrashing?
Could I be fighting the very help God is sending?
3. What does my waiting look like?
Am I just enduring? Or am I remembering God and watching for the boat?
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A Prayer
Lord,
When our souls are thirsty And the stream beds are dry, Be the living God we long for.
When the waves keep coming And we can’t touch bottom, Hold us up.
When we want to thrash, Teach us to wait.
When people ask, “Where is your God?” And we find ourselves asking it too, Hear our honest questions.
Send Your goodness in the daytime. Give us Your song in the night.
Lord Jesus, You have been under these waves.
You know this prayer from the inside. Keep us floating until help comes.
And teach us to praise You again.
Amen.
Our team, on the poster Igreja A Ponte made to welcome us: Rick, Deanna, Luciana, Milton, Miguel, and Carlinho.
Deanna and I are back in Portugal with a small team from Brazil. We’re seeking God about the possibility of helping younger couples start a church-planting movement here.
This Sunday, October 11, Igreja A Ponte is holding a Family Celebration. They’ve invited our team to come early, at 9:15, for breakfast and fellowship before the 10:00 service.
Please pray with us:
for real friendships between the believers here and our Brazilian team
for the various people and groups we’ll meet this week
for wisdom to know how best to encourage them
that we will sense God’s presence and His direction
With gratitude, Rick and Deanna
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Scripture quotations are from the NASB 2020 unless otherwise noted.
