The psalms don’t shy away from suffering and psalm 31 is no exception. Lamenting a life spent in sorrow and sighing, weakened by misery, an object of scorn and derision to friend and foe alike the psalmist is as useless as a broken bottle and as good as dead. But, and there is always a “but” in a lament, but I trust in you, despite my eyes wasting away from grief for I will see the light of your face. But I trust in you for my soul and body in distress is in your hands and will be delivered. But I trust in you, though terror is all around, for you are my God and in your steadfast love I am secure. As it is for the psalmist so it is in all our laments, sorrow and sighing turn on that three letter word, but.
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