Emotional Meditation—By Micah Siemens
This final movement of Psalm 44 does something Scripture doesn’t often do so openly: it protests—not against God’s existence, but against His silence.
“All this has come upon us, though we have not forgotten You, and we have not been false to Your covenant.”
There’s no posturing here. No self-righteousness. Just a clear, trembling statement of truth. We were faithful. We stayed. We remembered You. And still—this happened. This is the kind of prayer you only pray if you believe God can handle your honesty. It’s not rebellion. It’s covenantal courage. You’ve walked long enough with God to know that obedience doesn’t always equal ease. That faithfulness doesn’t guarantee clarity. That sometimes the hardest seasons arrive not because you strayed—but because you stayed. Psalm 44 gives permission to say that out loud.
“If we had forgotten the name of our God… would not God discover this?” The psalmist is essentially saying: Search us. You know us. This pain isn’t punishment.
That matters deeply for anyone whose suffering has been mislabeled as failure. For anyone who’s been told, implicitly or explicitly, “If you had more faith, this wouldn’t be happening.” Scripture refuses that simplification.
“Yet for Your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”
These are sobering words. They strip faith of any illusion that it is safe or predictable. And yet—the psalmist doesn’t abandon God here. He calls out.
“Awake! Why are You sleeping, O Lord?”
That line feels almost dangerous. And yet God allowed it to be written, preserved, prayed. Because this is what real relationship looks like—not silence, not resignation, but bold speech rooted in trust. And then the psalm reaches its final plea:
“Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of Your steadfast love.”
Not for their righteousness. Not for their reputation. Not for their comfort. For His love. That’s the anchor. And maybe that’s where this psalm lands for you too— in the quiet but defiant belief that even when life doesn’t make sense, God’s love hasn’t evaporated. Psalm 44 doesn’t resolve the tension. It doesn’t explain the suffering. It doesn’t tie things up neatly. But it does something better. It teaches us how to stay. How to speak honestly without leaving. How to question without severing trust. How to cling to God when the only thing you can reach is His character. And sometimes, that is the truest form of faith there is.
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