A New Song

A New Song Psalm 40:1-11
The opening line of Psalm 40, in the Hebrew suggests waiting upon waiting—a long, layered endurance. It is not a serene waiting. Because the kind of waiting this psalm describes is not quiet or easy. This is not waiting with a cup of coffee and a plan. This is waiting when there is nothing to do but keep breathing and hope that someone hears you.
We’ve all been there. Waiting 9 months for a child to be born healthy. Waiting for results from an MRI. Waiting to hear about acceptance to college or a job. Waiting for the pain and sorrow just to end.

The psalmist is honest about where that waiting took place. He calls it a pit. A muddy bog. A place where your feet slide and sink at the same time, where effort doesn’t help much and sometimes makes things worse. Many of us know that place. A place where you feel stuck. It might be grief that doesn’t move on schedule, anxiety that keeps returning, a relationship that never quite heals, or a season where faith itself feels heavy and slow. Maybe even non-existent. The psalm does not rush past that reality. It names it. It remembers it. Faith here is not denial. It is truth-telling.
Then, the psalmist says something extraordinary: God heard. God inclined an ear. God reached down. God lifted me out and set my feet on solid ground. God listened. God acted. God made space where there had been none.
Our psalmist was not telling us how God rescued him while it was happening. He was reflecting on it afterward. Faith often works that way. We recognize grace not in the moment of the pit we are sinking in, but later, when we realize that somehow we are standing again. The ground is not perfect, but it holds. And that is enough.

Then comes the song. “God put a new song in my mouth.” The psalmist sings because something real has happened. And when others hear it, they are drawn into trusting God—because the song is the truth.
I think that this is one of the greatest gifts of our church community.
When we cannot sing ourselves, when all we can say is Why me, God,
another carries the melody. We borrow each other’s songs. We learn to trust not just because of what God has done for us, but because of what we have seen God do for one another.

The psalmist says God does not delight in offerings for their own sake. Burnt offerings and sin offerings are not the goal. Worship is more than that. It’s activities done when the heart is present.
Obeying God is not about following rules. It’s how we respond to the grace God has given us. Remember Mary saying in Luke, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” God’s word, God’s action comes first. Our welfare, our lives are to come second. It’s hard to live up to that.
A lot of us feel guilty about not being faithful enough, not praying enough, not doing enough. Psalm 40 refuses that notion. God meets us in the pit. God walks with us in the muddy waters. What follows is relationship. Our faith demands that we witness. In both our actions and speech
The psalmist does not deny future trouble will come. He dares to trust anyway. And this is the hard part, isn’t it. Some of us have had yearlong struggles that finally are over. And we are grateful, our wavering faith restored, but that doesn’t mean adversity will not come again.
So maybe today is not about forcing joy or gratitude. Maybe it is about remembering a moment when you were heard. Remembering a time when the ground held you.
And if you are still waiting—still in the pit, still listening for a response—this psalm does not hurry you along. It simply sits beside you and says: God hears. God leans in. God has not forgotten you. And when the time comes, a new song will find its way to you and you will sing again. Thanks be to God. Amen.