The Long Night and the God Who Hears (Psalm 6) | The Psalms and the Woman’s Soul

Image Credit: Turned on Lamp in Dark Room by George Shervashidze, via Pexels (accessed and edited through Canva).

    There are moments when we lie awake longer than we ought to, not because we are unrighteous, but because we are undone. We may find ourselves crying silently into the night, weary not only in body but in soul. The tears seem to blur our sight and even our faith, as though we are asking, “Lord, how long?” (Ps 6:3). That question echoes across time, from David’s psalm to our present beds.

    Psalm 6 begins with weakness. David pleads, “O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger, nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak” (Ps 6:1–2a, NKJV). There is something deeply comforting about that honesty. We are not always composed. Sometimes we tremble. Sometimes we ask for mercy not because we have been faithful, but because we are falling apart.

    This psalm reminds us that God’s mercy is not earned by strength but begged for in surrender. We may wonder why we feel so frail—so helpless in the face of pain, betrayal, or confusion. But perhaps this frailty may draw us to pray as David did: “Return, O Lord, deliver me! Oh, save me for Your mercies’ sake!” (Ps 6:4). The basis of our rescue is not our consistency, but God’s covenant mercy.

    As women, we may carry burdens that are invisible. Our households, friendships, ministries, and inner lives may stretch us more than we admit. Yet this psalm does not ask us to pretend. It invites us to weep and to wait. “I am weary with my groaning; all night I make my bed swim” (Ps 6:6). These words may feel too raw, too close—but they may also feel like home.

    Still, even in this lament, there is a quiet turning. David affirms that the Lord has heard. He does not say his sorrow has ended, but he trusts that his cry has reached heaven. “The Lord has heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord has heard my supplication” (Ps 6:8–9). Perhaps we, too, could whisper such a hope tonight—not because we see relief already, but because we know His ear is not too dull to hear.

    We may not always rise from prayer with immediate joy. But perhaps we could rise with a little more rest, knowing that we have been heard, and that mercy has not run out. It never does. Because of Christ, we may be sure that our tears are not ignored. He, too, wept. He, too, groaned. And through Him, we may say what David once said: “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity; for the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping” (Ps 6:8).