Kingdom Seekers Circle

Emotional Meditation—By Micah Siemens

There’s a noticeable shift here toward the end of the Psalm—a kind of sharpening, almost like David is saying, “Let me be honest about how dark the world can get.”

Because the wicked don’t just plot in shadows. They watch the righteous. They wait for missteps. They look for moments of vulnerability, almost like predators circling something gentle. And yet—“The Lord will not abandon him to the power of the wicked.”

There’s something in me that exhales when I read that. Because some days it really does feel like wickedness has the upper hand, like corruption has louder microphones, like injustice has more stamina. But David cuts through the fog with this single truth: God has not surrendered the world. God has not surrendered His people.

Even when the courtroom seems rigged. Even when your reputation is attacked. Even when life feels like a setup. The Judge of all the earth does not look away. Then David gives us counsel that feels like the heartbeat of the entire Psalm:

“Wait for the Lord.”

Not passively. Not numbly. Not with folded arms and a ticking clock. But with a steady, quiet confidence that God really is moving, that He really will act, that His timing is not slow but precise. Waiting is not resignation. Waiting is alignment. And the promise is unmistakable: those who wait inherit the land. They endure. They stay. They stand when others vanish like smoke.

There’s also this almost cinematic contrast: the wicked spreading themselves out like towering green trees—majestic, intimidating, rooted. But then David looks again and says with a kind of holy sobriety:

“And behold, he was no more.” 

Just gone. No legacy. No roots. No future. Wickedness always looks permanent right up until the moment it isn’t. But the righteous? David describes them simply:

“They are the ones who seek peace.”

Not dominance. Not revenge. Not vindication. Peace. This is what makes Psalm 37 so radical: The ones who seem the quietest, the gentlest, the least interested in scrambling for power—they are the ones who outlast the rest.

And the final promise wraps the whole Psalm like a warm, solid cloak: The Lord is their salvation. Their refuge in trouble. He delivers them. He rescues them. He saves them. Not once. Not occasionally. But as a pattern of His character.

This is how Psalm 37 ends—with a God who does not abandon, a God who holds justice in His hands, a God who writes the last line of every story. Psalm 37 has been one long invitation to breathe. To slow down. To look past the noise. To see the God who still reigns in the tension.

• 🌱 Roots or Dust? A Column on Psalm 1
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