“MY SOUL, WAIT THOU ONLY UPON GOD” A Meditation on Psalm 62:5

“MY SOUL, WAIT THOU ONLY UPON GOD”

A Meditation on Psalm 62:5

“My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.”
— Psalm 62:5

There are moments in the life of a believer when almost everything visible seems to argue against hope. The door has not opened. The prayer has not been answered in the manner expected. The burden has not been removed. Friends have disappointed us. Strength has failed us. Plans carefully constructed have fallen apart. The future, once clear, has become hidden behind a wall of uncertainty.

It is precisely there that David speaks to his own soul.

“My soul, wait thou only upon God.”

Notice that he is not speaking to another person. He is preaching to himself.

There are times when the believer must become the preacher to his own troubled heart. The emotions are speaking. Fear is speaking. Memory is speaking. Circumstances are speaking. Other people are speaking. Every one of them seems to have an opinion about what will happen next.

And David answers them all by turning inward and commanding his own soul:

“Wait.”

Not because circumstances are favorable.

Not because men have promised assistance.

Not because tomorrow can be predicted.

But because God is God.

The Hebrew idea behind “wait” carries the thought of being silent, still, expectant before God. It is not the silence of despair. It is the silence of confidence. It is the quietness of a soul that has ceased trying to force Providence to explain itself.

There is an enormous difference between resignation and faith.

Resignation says, “Nothing can be done.”

Faith says, “God is doing what I cannot see.”

David therefore does not tell his soul merely to wait.

He says:

“Wait thou only upon God.”

That single word exposes many of our troubles.

We are often willing to wait upon God provided that we may also wait upon something else.

God—and money.

God—and influential friends.

God—and favorable circumstances.

God—and our own ingenuity.

God—and the approval of men.

God—and some visible sign that everything is going to work out.

But David strips the sentence bare.

“Only upon God.”

That is difficult Christianity.

It is comparatively easy to trust God while the bank account is full, the physician is optimistic, the family is united, the congregation is peaceful, and tomorrow appears secure.

But take away the visible supports.

Take away the human assurances.

Take away the explanation.

Take away the timetable.

Then the question becomes painfully personal:

Is God himself enough?

Psalm 62 says that he is.

David had learned something that cannot be learned merely from books. He had learned it through experience. He knew betrayal. He knew danger. He knew political intrigue. He knew the uncertainty of human loyalty. He knew what it was to be surrounded by people whose words sounded gracious while their intentions were destructive.

Earlier in the Psalm he says:

“How long will ye imagine mischief against a man? ye shall be slain all of you: as a bowing wall shall ye be, and as a tottering fence.”

Then:

“They only consult to cast him down from his excellency: they delight in lies: they bless with their mouth, but they curse inwardly.”

David knew what it was to discover that human words could not always be trusted.

And after describing all that instability, he turns away from them.

“My soul, wait thou only upon God.”

That is the movement of faith.

Faith does not require us to pretend that enemies do not exist.

Faith does not demand that we deny pain.

Faith does not tell us that betrayal does not hurt.

Faith looks squarely at all those realities and then says:

But none of them is God.

The great word of the verse may actually be its final word:

“For my expectation is from him.”

Not merely “in him.”

“From him.”

David is not merely saying that God is the object of his hope. He is saying that whatever he truly needs must ultimately come from God.

“My expectation is from him.”

If deliverance comes, it comes from him.

If strength comes, it comes from him.

If wisdom comes, it comes from him.

If another door opens, it comes from him.

If the answer is yes, it comes from him.

If the answer is no, it comes from him.

If we must wait another night, grace for that night comes from him.

If the road suddenly changes, direction for the new road comes from him.

Everything the child of God truly needs is contained in those two words:

“from him.”

This destroys the illusion that our lives ultimately depend upon other people.

Men may be instruments of Providence, but they are not Providence.

A physician may be useful, but healing belongs to God.

A friend may comfort, but the God of all comfort is above the friend.

A preacher may speak, but God must cause the word to enter the heart.

A door may open through another person's decision, but the key was never finally in that person's hand.

“My expectation is from him.”

What peace there is in that sentence.

It means I do not have to manipulate people.

I do not have to force circumstances.

I do not have to see tomorrow.

I do not have to understand everything God is doing.

I do not even have to understand why he has chosen to make me wait.

I need only know the One upon whom I wait.

And David knew him.

The next verse explains why:

“He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved.”

Notice again:

“He only.”

In verse 5:

“Wait thou only upon God.”

In verse 6:

“He only is my rock.”

The exclusiveness is deliberate.

If God alone is the rock, then the soul may safely wait upon God alone.

A rock does not change because the traveler standing upon it is frightened.

A rock does not disappear because the night becomes dark.

A rock does not cease being solid because the storm is violent.

Our feelings change.

God does not.

Our perceptions change.

God does not.

Our friends may change.

God does not.

Our circumstances may change between morning and evening.

God does not.

The believer's security therefore does not lie in the firmness of his grasp upon God, but in the firmness of the God upon whom he rests.

There may even be days when the believer scarcely feels that he is holding onto God at all.

Yet underneath him remains the Rock.

This is why waiting is not wasted time.

We tend to think that God is working when something visible happens.

The door opens—God worked.

The disease disappears—God worked.

The money arrives—God worked.

The problem is solved—God worked.

But Scripture teaches something much deeper.

God is working while we wait.

Sometimes the waiting is part of the work.

Joseph waited in prison.

Moses waited in Midian.

David waited for the throne.

Abraham waited for the promised son.

Israel waited for deliverance.

The disciples waited between the crucifixion and resurrection.

And none of those silent intervals was empty.

God was working where human eyes could not see him.

Perhaps that is why some of God's deepest work in us occurs when nothing seems to be happening around us.

Waiting exposes what we really trust.

Waiting strips away our imagined control.

Waiting brings hidden idols to the surface.

Waiting teaches us the difference between wanting God's gifts and wanting God himself.

There is a painful lesson hidden in the words:

“My expectation is from him.”

Sometimes our expectation is really from another person.

We may call it faith, but inwardly we have already decided how God must answer.

We have selected the person.

We have chosen the method.

We have determined the time.

We have written the ending.

Then we ask God to sign his name beneath our plan.

But genuine waiting places the blank page before God.

“Lord, my expectation is from thee. Therefore the answer does not have to come through the person I chose. It does not have to come in the manner I imagined. It does not have to arrive according to my timetable.”

That kind of waiting is surrender.

And surrender can be painful.

There are prayers we have prayed for years.

There are names we have carried before God until merely speaking them brings tears.

There are graves beside which we have stood.

There are relationships we could not repair.

There are opportunities that disappeared.

There are questions for which Providence has given us no explanation.

Yet Psalm 62:5 remains.

“My soul, wait thou only upon God.”

David does not say:

Wait until you understand.

He says:

Wait upon God.

He does not say:

Wait until circumstances improve.

Wait upon God.

He does not say:

Wait until somebody comes to rescue you.

Wait upon God.

He does not say:

Wait until you feel strong enough to believe.

Wait upon God.

Faith ultimately rests not upon explanations but upon character.

We may not know what God is doing.

But we know who God is.

And sometimes that must be enough.

The believer may therefore speak to his trembling soul:

Soul, you have worried enough.

You have imagined enough disasters.

You have rehearsed enough possibilities.

You have tried to carry tomorrow before tomorrow arrived.

Be still now.

Your salvation does not rest in your ability to predict Providence.

Your Father has not surrendered his throne.

Christ has not ceased to be your Mediator.

The covenant has not failed.

The promises have not expired.

The Shepherd has not lost one sheep.

The Rock has not moved.

Therefore:

“Wait thou only upon God.”

Perhaps nothing outside you changes tonight.

Perhaps the letter does not arrive.

Perhaps the answer remains hidden.

Perhaps the burden is still there tomorrow morning.

But something profound can change within the soul when it ceases demanding that God reveal the next chapter and begins resting in the Author.

“My expectation is from him.”

Not from tomorrow.

Not from men.

Not from myself.

From him.

And if it must come from him, then it will come at the right time, in the right way, through the right means, according to wisdom infinitely greater than mine.

Until then, the command remains.

Wait.

Wait when you understand.

Wait when you do not.

Wait when Providence smiles.

Wait when Providence wears a frown.

Wait when friends remain.

Wait when friends depart.

Wait when the road is visible.

Wait when darkness covers the next step.

But above everything else—

wait only upon God.

For there comes a point in the Christian pilgrimage when the soul discovers that God is not merely the giver of the thing for which we have been waiting.

He himself is the treasure discovered in the waiting.

And then David's words become more than a command.

They become rest:

“My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.”