When I was in college, a friend of mine challenged me to start memorizing scripture with her. I learned in that season that writing the word of God on my heart changed the way I thought of Him, the way I talked to Him in my prayer life and the way I worshiped Him. I’ve been feeling challenged recently to start writing scripture on my heart in this season — to make it a normal part of my devotional life again. So every Monday, I’m sharing the scripture I’m memorizing that week, with a story and song to go with it. Because it matters that we write the word of God on our hearts, and that we think of Him and worship Him from that place.
“On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
I cling to you;
your right hand upholds me.”
Remembering Him through the watches of the night took on new meaning for me this past spring. I will never forget sitting in my living room late one night in April, as we’d been believing God to deliver our boy, Judah Rise, as he was growing inside the womb of an addict who was losing a battle to a meth addiction.
I sat in my living room at 2 am on April 13 and cried out to God, and I felt like he said, “Let Psalm 63 be your hope and your prayer for him.” I opened my Bible and when I saw the title of the Psalm, I wept.
“A psalm of David. When he was in the wilderness of Judah.”
There I sat in my own Judah wilderness, and I read this psalm over and over, praying it over our boy, declaring victory and vowing that, no matter what, God would be praised. That I would sing praise to Him, in the shadow of His wings, as I walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. No matter the cost. No matter the outcome.
We fought a losing fight for Judah’s life. It still aches every day.
That page of my Bible is so soaked in my tears, marked by my eye makeup and wrinkled with watermarks that it has become naturally bookmarked. It’s the first page that falls open when I go to open my Bible every morning, and for the last several months I’ve ignored it. It felt too tender to revisit this psalm I’d prayed day and night, without ceasing, for those two months that we fought so hard for him.
But it is good to remember the things that have marked us — even when those marks are the scars of our deepest wounds. So this week, I’m memorizing these words from Psalm 63 again. Because I want to be a woman who, like Jesus, is familiar with suffering and acquainted with grief. And I want to know deeply that even in those places — especially in those places — He will still be praised.
“Even When It Hurts (Praise Song)”