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I called out to no one, “Where is my help?” There was a crisis, and I was waiting for what felt like much too long for first responders. Helpless, dependent, suddenly I found myself saying:

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord
who made heaven and earth. (Ps. 121:1–2)

This psalm of ascents was originally composed for our ancestors on their annual pilgrimage. Israel was looking to the hill of God, Jerusalem. This psalm was not only a powerful reminder to look up and remember the reason for the people’s arduous journey but also a poetic tool to unite truth and experience.

Rather than dismissing emotion in favor of pragmatism or deriding God’s promises because of pain, the Psalms engage our senses and captivate our feelings, pointing us to something truly unique. We don’t always know the context or experiences of the psalmists, but don’t we find a knowing connection to them even so? In the Psalms, we see songs weaving together the complexities of themes with which we are strangely familiar: discouragement and thanksgiving, fear and delight, grief and praise. The Psalms don’t simply offer an idyllic view of the human experience; they teach us honest prayers. Ultimately, they point to Christ—the complete human experience.

Even when we know and memorize truth, it is so easy to become lost in our own experiences, not simply self-focused but devastated by the weight of living in a broken world. We underestimate what is required to keep this earth in orbit, our bodies breathing, or our minds set on truth. We overestimate our control of the elements, our assumptions of what we see, or our evaluations of others. Overwhelmed and confused by the urgency of our needs, we are brought to the end of ourselves. Where can we go from here?

When the things of the world fall apart before our eyes, what a comfort to turn to the Maker of the world (v. 2). When we need an extraordinary work, we can proclaim that our changeless God “holds all things together” (Col. 1:17). Where we lack, He sees—“he who keeps you will not slumber” (Ps. 121:3). We are never truly alone, and He offers wisdom for the resources He provides.

There is an abiding comfort in knowing that “the Lord is your keeper” (v. 5) and that He is not only in the hills. Our help has come to us—Jesus, our Lord and Christ—and He has not left us alone. He makes known to those who are His “another Helper, to be with you forever,” the Holy Spirit (John 14:16). Though God does not shield us from every crisis, He never fails to be our “present help” (Ps. 46:1). God is at work. We can know where our help comes from and call on Him today. He will answer.

The Sacraments and Faith

Fear Not What They Fear

Keep Reading Miracles

From the November 2025 Issue
Nov 2025 Issue