There are days—gray, unhurried, heavy days—when it seems heaven has put up a “Do Not Disturb” sign. Our prayers feel unanswered, our hearts misunderstood, and we wonder if God sees. Psalm 119:153–160 is for such days.

“Consider mine affliction,” the psalmist writes. In other words: Lord, look at my pain. Don’t just scan it. Don’t glance over it like a stranger passing by a beggar in the street. See it. Feel it. Enter it with me.

This isn’t the voice of a theologian in a tower. It’s the whisper of a weary soul under a fig tree, a worn sandal resting on holy ground, asking God not just to deliver—but to revive. “Quicken me.” Bring life back to dry bones. Infuse marrow into the fragile frame.

And what does the psalmist lean on? Not performance. Not piety. Not pedigree. He leans on God’s Word. Eight verses, and in each one, a mention of God’s law, testimonies, judgments, precepts. For him, God’s Word is more than information—it’s inhalation. A soul cannot live without breath, and this pilgrim cannot live without Scripture.

There’s a moment in verse 156 that nearly takes your breath away:

“Great are thy tender mercies, O Lord.”

Tender mercies. Two words that say more than volumes. God’s compassions aren’t cold protocols. They’re warm, like a mother’s touch to a fevered brow. They’re big-hearted and intimate. Yes, God is a King, but He’s not aloof. He’s near, closer than our own shadows, and His mercies? They don’t trickle—they pour.

The psalmist isn’t just wrestling his own demons. He’s also grieved—heart-wrenched—over those who ignore God’s truth. He doesn’t gloat over the wicked. He laments them. He sees transgression and feels sorrow, not superiority.

And then comes the love letter:

“Consider how I love thy precepts.”

Not tolerate. Not study out of duty. Love. His affection for God’s Word pulses with life.

So what’s the takeaway? If your heart today feels frayed, thin from worry, torn from trials—you’re in good company. The writer of this psalm knows your ache. And more importantly, so does God. He doesn’t just count your tears; He considers them.

And His Word? Oh, it’s not a relic. It’s not rusted or irrelevant.

“Thy word is true from the beginning: and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth for ever.”

That’s the kind of truth you can build your life on.
Or collapse on, if need be.

So today, friend, bring your affliction to Him. Ask Him to revive you. Cling to His Word like a raft in the rising sea. And trust—yes, trust—that the God of tender mercies sees you.

He always has.

He always will.