Psalm 37
When the World Feels Upside Down
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” It is a common philosophical question. But the inverse can trouble us just as deeply: why do people who do bad things seem to prosper? Our news cycle is filled with stories of the powerful abusing their privilege with apparent impunity, while some of the best people I know have suffered great tragedies or grievous injustices.
Whether we are believers or not, this grates against our sense of fairness. But for a believer, when your own life is marked by hardship while the wicked continue to prosper, the disorientation is deeper and more personal. Where is God? Why isn’t he doing something? If he is so good, why is he allowing this to happen?
Psalm 37 was written for exactly that struggle. These are words for us to cling to and return to, not because they resolve the tension, but because they offer us a wide-eyed, gritty hope amid the dissonance of life in our broken world. They do not turn a blind eye to the evil at work in this world, yet they remain fully confident that the Lord will not allow evil to prosper forever.
When evil is prolific and God seems silent— absent at best or unconcerned at worst—it can erode our confidence in the Lord and elicit a variety of responses. We may grow bitter with him for not intervening. We might feel entitled, believing he has not upheld his end of some unspoken bargain. Envy can take root. We may even compromise our integrity, deciding to create a better life for ourselves on our own terms rather than waiting for him.
But perhaps the most insidious response is the quietest of all: despair. The creeping resignation of “it is what it is.” This can feel like acceptance and surrender, but it is ultimately the loss of hope. When we lose hope, we are in danger of losing sight of God altogether—of forgetting that he is still present, still working, and still the final word on what endures. It is for all those reasons the psalmist writes.
The psalmist, presumably David, encourages God’s people in two ways. First, he reminds them of the temporary nature of evil. Because the Lord loves justice, the ways of the wicked will fade like the grass; they will be cut off and vanish like smoke. The Lord even laughs at them, knowing they ultimately have no power.
Second, he reminds them of the eternal nature of the Lord’s promises. He will act on behalf of his children, bringing righteousness, justice, and salvation. He will never forsake them or abandon them to the wicked. He will uphold and deliver them, establish their steps, and be their stronghold in times of trouble. And he ensures an inheritance for those who wait on and trust in him, regardless of the evil around them.
This kind of encouragement may not bring relief. It may not eradicate the injustice we are experiencing or offer us significant consolation in the suffering surrounding us. But it is a correction to our understanding of how God acts in the world. We assume that those who do good things experience positive outcomes and that those who do bad things experience negative outcomes. But Jesus dismantled that idea when he taught that the rain falls on the just and unjust alike (Matthew 5:45).
This faulty thinking is perhaps most visible in how we misread verse 4: “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires.” Somehow, we came to believe and teach others that if we are satisfied with God alone, he will give us whatever we want. And so we engage in spiritual performance, trying to prove our delight is in God alone, all the while hoping to obtain what we want from him.
When that doesn’t work, our belief tends to err in two ways. Either God is holding out on us and not living up to his end of the bargain. Or we haven’t yet proven our devotion sufficiently. Either way, we end up measuring our standing with God by the circumstances of our lives.
I know this pattern. In my early thirties, I deeply desired to be married. But I convinced myself I desired it too much. I had made it an idol. And, because of that, God was waiting on me to surrender that longing to him completely, to desire him alone. Only then, I believed, would he finally be willing to grant me my heart’s desire.
That reading of verse 4 doesn’t hold up, though. If it were true, then Jesus himself did not rightly delight in the Lord. In the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed three times that God would provide another way to save humanity. And he was crucified anyway. By that logic, either Jesus was not righteous, or God was not faithful. Neither is true.
The key is in the second half of that same prayer: “Nevertheless, not my will but your will be done” (Matthew 26:39). Jesus’ agony is palpable. He genuinely desired that God would provide another way. But his deeper desire was for God’s will—even when that will led to the cross.
That is what verse 4 points us to. When we delight in the Lord, he shapes our desires to align with his. We may have real, God-honoring longings for healing, children, marriage, or reconciliation with a loved one. There is nothing wrong with these desires. But when our delight is in the Lord, we are able to hold both our desire and the desire for God’s will in the same open hand. It is not the surrender of longing; it is the entrusting of longing to a God we believe is good.
The psalmist spends a considerable amount of time encouraging the faithful in concrete ways. These exhortations could be grouped into three overarching categories.
First, trust in the Lord (vv. 3, 5). In verse 7, David writes, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.” This is not passive resignation. It is an intentional determination not to take matters into your own hands. It is actively choosing to remember God’s promises and his faithfulness. And, when evil prospers and threatens, to take refuge in him.
Second, commit to the Lord’s ways (v. 5). David understands that God is sovereign and that what he wills will happen. But that does not mean we bear no responsibility. He encourages the faithful to dwell in the land, do good, be faithful, and commit their ways to the Lord (v. 3). Don’t succumb to despair. Keep doing the next right thing, no matter what goes on around you. Focus on the Lord and follow him.
Finally, do not give in to the evils of this world (vv. 7, 8, 27). Don’t fret over or be envious of the prosperity of the wicked. Refrain from the kind of anger that leads you to violence and seek vindication. Forsake wrath and leave judgment to the Lord.
Trust God. Obey God. Wait on God. This is what the psalmist wants God’s people to hold onto.
The most striking thing in this psalm, however, is not its exhortations. It is two small words that do enormous theological work throughout: “but” and “for.”
“But” appears in verses 9, 11, 13, 15 (implied), 17, 20, 22, 28, 33 (implied), and 38, and each time it performs the same reversal. The wicked are cut off, but those who wait on the Lord will inherit the land (v. 9). The wicked plot against the righteous, but the Lord laughs, knowing their day is coming (v. 13). The arms of the wicked will be broken, but the Lord upholds the righteous (v. 17). The wicked seek to put the righteous to death, but the Lord will not abandon him (vv. 32–33).
The psalmist is teaching us to see the world and our lives through the lens of “But the Lord…” Justice is, at times, delayed. Evil does prosper without apparent accountability. But the Lord…! David grounds us, reminding us that whatever may be occurring in the world, the final word belongs to the Lord.
“For” works similarly. It is used in verses 2, 9, 13, 17, 22, 24, 28, 37. Don’t fret over evildoers, for they will soon fade and wither (vv. 1–2). Refrain from anger, for the evildoers will be cut off (vv. 8–9). Turn from evil and do good, for the Lord loves justice and will not forsake his saints (vv. 27–28). The righteous may fall, but he will not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand (vv. 23–24).
The rhythmic nature of this repeated rhetorical pattern drives home an important message. The psalmist is shepherding his people, reminding them that the Lord is still in charge and still at work. The Lord is for them and because of this, they can obey, endure, rest, and hope.
Everything in this psalm seems to build toward a profession David makes near its center:
“I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken…” (v. 25a)
This is not just theoretical head knowledge for David. He watched God’s faithfulness bear out in his life through hardship, betrayal, loss, failure, his own sin, and grief. And from his seasoned vantage point, he extends his confidence to those experiencing the disillusionment and disorientation of a broken world.
This is the undergirding truth for the person who is wrestling with where God is and what he is or is not doing in the world. Psalm 37 does not promise that those who are faithful will be spared suffering. It does not resolve the frustration of watching evil prosper. It does not even promise that our longings will be satisfied in this life. But it does offer us something far more durable: the assurance that evil’s prosperity is temporary, that God’s justice is certain, and that he will not ultimately forsake those who are his.
That is how Jesus could endure such suffering and injustice. That is how his faith in the Father remained intact, though evil seemed to be winning. This is how Jesus was able to relinquish his earthly desire to the Lord in the Garden. He could walk through the darkest injustice in human history without losing his faith—not because he was spared the anguish, but because he trusted that the Father held the final word, even if the fullness of that would take millennia to unfold. And that is the path forward for us, too.
Questions for Reflection
Engage the Scripture
The psalmist uses the words “but” and “for” throughout the passage. Read back through the psalm and write each one down in a journal. How might these declarations change your perspective of the world or your own circumstances?
Read back through your list. Which of these truths do you most need to cling to right now?
Explore Your Story
Where in your own life do you most feel the tension this psalm addresses—where evil seems to be winning or where God seems silent? How has that experience shaped your posture toward God and your circumstances—toward bitterness, envy, despair, or something else?
The article describes a subtle but destructive misreading of verse 4—the belief that if we prove our devotion well enough, God will give us what we want. Have you recognized that pattern in yourself? What did it feel like when it didn’t work?
In light of the wickedness surrounding them, the psalmist encouraged his hearers to dwell in the land, do good, be faithful, and trust the Lord. In light of your own circumstances, what would that look like?
Encounter the Savior
In Gethsemane, Jesus held his own deep desire and his surrender to the Father’s will in the same prayer. He didn’t suppress the longing—he entrusted it. What would it look like for you to bring your most unresolved longing to Jesus in that same posture—honestly naming the desire while releasing it into his hands?
Jesus himself is God’s final word to the problem of evil and injustice — not just a model of endurance, but the actual resolution. How does the cross and resurrection change the way you read the psalm’s promises? Does it bring you comfort, raise new questions, or both?
Experience Shalom
Write your own version of this psalm using examples from your own life and circumstances, using the psalmist’s pattern of “but” and “for.” For example, “My co-worker is successful because he lies to customers to gain their business, but the Lord sees all that is done and will hold all to account.” When you are done writing it, read it aloud. How might engaging in a practice like this more often help you?
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