Excerpt from pages 50-51, in my new book on Praying the Scripture: Building a Life Shaped by the Psalms.
One year I was wrestling with anger. Not explosive anger — the quiet kind. The kind that simmers. The kind that hides in the crevices of disappointment and frustration. The kind that feels justified because you’ve been wounded.
I didn’t know how to pray. My words felt small. My heart felt tight. My prayers felt stuck.
Then I opened to Psalm 73:
“When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart,
I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you.”
(Psalm 73:21–22, ESV)
That was me. Embittered. Pricked. Ignorant. Beastlike.
The Psalm gave me words I didn’t want to admit but desperately needed to pray. And then it gave me hope:
“Nevertheless, I am continually with you;
you hold my right hand.” (Psalm 73:23, ESV)
That was God. Steady. Patient. Merciful. Holding me even when I was too angry to hold Him.
The Psalms gave me language for repentance and the language for hope. They gave me the language of heaven.
For the next 32 days the book is available in the paperback edition for 20% off the retail price at this link.
