Emotional MeditationâBy Micah Siemens
Psalm 11 opens with a line that almost feels defensive: âIn the Lord I take refuge. How then can you say to me: âFlee like a bird to your mountainâ?â I imagine David surrounded by voices telling him to run, to hide, to get out while he can. Fear always has a chorus.
But David pushes back. Because sometimes running isnât faithâitâs surrender to panic. His critics point out, âWhen the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do?â Thatâs a terrifying question. What do you do when the moral ground beneath you crumbles? When injustice feels baked into the system? When the very âfoundationsâ are cracking?

Davidâs answer is not what I expect. He doesnât give a plan, a strategy, or even a pep talk. He looks upward: âThe Lord is in His holy temple; the Lord is on His heavenly throne.â
Thatâs it. Thatâs his response. God is still seated. Still watching. Still testing hearts. His eyes see what we think goes unnoticed. The wicked may take aim, but God sees. And His verdict will come.
Thereâs this piercing line near the end: âOn the wicked He will rain fiery coals and burning sulfur; a scorching wind will be their lot.â Itâs unsettling, almost violent imagery. But itâs also assuranceâevil doesnât get the final word.
The psalm closes on this paradox: âFor the Lord is righteous, He loves justice; the upright will see His face.â Justice isnât just an abstract principle for Godâitâs His delight. And the reward for the faithful isnât safety or even vindication firstâitâs His face. His presence.
Psalm 11 hits me like a challenge. When the foundations shake, I want quick fixes, escape routes, proof that things will stabilize. David says: the anchor is higher than the quake. Refuge is not found in flight, but in the face of God.
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