Out of the Depths

Transcript

Hello, my friend… so glad you're with me today. This is By God's Call — day 199, Out of the Depths.

"Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD!" Psalm 130, verse 1.

This verse is short, but it carries a weight many people recognize on first reading, even if they've never heard it before. Because all of us have been there — in that place the psalmist calls the depths. Deep, dark waters, where you cannot see the bottom, cannot see a way out, and sometimes cannot even tell which direction the surface is in.

Notice that the psalmist does not soften his own situation. He doesn't say "I'm a little worried" or "things aren't easy right now." He names the exact place he is in: the depths. No polish. No softening. No pretending everything is fine when it isn't. This matters for you to hear today — Scripture does not require you to minimize your pain in order to pray. It gives you exact language for real pain.

And look at what he does from there: he cries out. He doesn't give up. He doesn't go silent. He doesn't sink quietly. He cries out. And crying out presupposes something essential: that there is someone on the other side willing to listen. Even in the depths, even in the darkest place, the psalmist does not shout into the void, does not shout at the walls, does not shout at no one. He cries out to the LORD. That, my friend, is already an act of faith — maybe the greatest act of faith there is: believing that even down there, Someone is listening.

This psalm has been known for centuries by its Latin name, De Profundis — "out of the depths" — and it has been prayed by generation after generation of people facing guilt, despair, grief, and shame. It offers language for a pain many feel but few can put into words. And maybe that's exactly what you need today: not an instant fix, but words that tell the truth about where you actually are.

And here is something I want you to hold onto: you don't need to surface before you pray. You don't need to get your life in order, dry your tears, or organize your thoughts before you can finally speak to God. The cry that rises from the bottom — even confused, even broken, even without structure — reaches Him with the same force as a prayer offered in peace and calm. God doesn't wait for you to get better before He listens.

And there's one more thing I need to tell you about this psalm: this first verse is only the beginning. The very same psalm, just a few lines later, speaks of forgiveness. It speaks of redemption. It speaks of hope arriving like morning after a long night watch. The depths are not the final destination of your story — they are only the starting point of the cry. And a cry, when directed at God, always finds its way toward the light.

So today, before breakfast, if you are in a real depth — not a theoretical one, a real one — I want you to do just one thing: say out loud "out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD." Without softening it. Without disguising it. Without dressing up the pain to sound more spiritual. Just cry out, exactly from where you are.

Stay close to God. Pray — then act. I'll see you tomorrow, my friend.