How long, O Lord

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“How long, O Lord?” This cry is one of the oldest and most honest in all of Scripture. It is a cry not born from rebellion but from the depths of a soul that believes, waits, and struggles to understand. It comes from those who know God is able, yet have not yet seen His hand at work. It is not an accusation against God. It is not a cry of resignation. Rather, it is the cry of those who have set their hope on God and are longing to see His face in the midst of apparent silence. “How long, O Lord?” is the cry that rises when what we believe about God and what we are experiencing seem to be in tension with one another.

In the Hebrew, the words are “עַד מָתַי יְהוָה” — ad matai, YHWH? “Until when, O Lord?” This is not a simple request for information; it is an appeal. The word “ad” means “until,” and “matai” means “what time?” or “how much longer?” The very structure of this cry holds a tension—it is both a lament and an expectation. It assumes that God will act, but also wonders why He has not acted yet. It contains both faith and longing in the same breath.

This cry rises from the heart of David in Psalm 13, where he says, “How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” The word “forget” used here is shakach (שָׁכַח). It does not refer to the forgetfulness that comes from distraction but to abandonment, to the absence of favor. David feels as though God’s presence is far from him, and to be forgotten in this sense is to be left without help, without comfort, and without blessing. But David is not claiming that God has truly forgotten him. He is expressing what it feels like to suffer in silence. To be hidden from God's face is to be outside the warmth of His favor, outside the light of His smile. The shining of God’s face in the blessing of Numbers 6 signifies grace and peace, and when that face seems hidden, the soul trembles.

David continues, “How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?” Here, David is not simply troubled by external circumstances; he is wrestling within himself, trying to make sense of his suffering. But all he finds is sorrow. The word for sorrow, yagon (יָגוֹן), speaks of a deep, inner grief. He is not just troubled by what is happening around him, but his soul is weighed down by the pain. He also cries, “How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?” The trial David faces is not only internal, but external as well. There is injustice, there is loss, there is the apparent victory of his enemies, and in the midst of all this, he waits. He waits for the answer, waits for the deliverance that only God can bring.

Yet, in the same Psalm, David turns. “But I have trusted in Your mercy,” he declares. The word for mercy here is chesed (חֶסֶד), which refers to the steadfast, covenant love of God. This is not a fleeting emotion or feeling, but a love that is steadfast and bound by God’s own character. David is not placing his trust in the circumstances around him but in the unchanging mercy of God. He says, “My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.” The word for salvation is yeshuah (יְשׁוּעָה), which means deliverance, salvation, and rescue. Though the salvation has not yet come, David rejoices in it as though it is already certain. “I will sing to the LORD, because He has dealt bountifully with me.” Even before the answer comes, David is praising God because he knows who God is, and he knows that the answer is coming.

The prophet Habakkuk joins this same cry. “O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and You will not hear? Or cry to You, ‘Violence!’ and You will not save?” The word for “hear” in Hebrew is shama (שָׁמַע), which means to hear with the intention to respond. Habakkuk is not doubting that God hears him in the natural sense, but he is asking why God has not yet answered his plea. The word for “save” is yasha (יָשַׁע), the root from which the word yeshuah comes. It is a plea for rescue, for justice, for God to intervene. Habakkuk is surrounded by violence and injustice, and he waits for God's hand to move.

God responds to him, but not in the way Habakkuk expects. “For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. Though it delays, wait for it; for it will surely come, it will not delay.” The timing of God is not on our schedule, but it is perfect and exact. The word for “wait” here implies more than patience—it implies endurance with expectation. Habakkuk is told not only that justice will come, but that it will come at the appointed time, right on time. The delay is only in human eyes.

Isaiah echoes this same promise: “But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength.” The word used for “wait” here is qavah (קָוָה), which means to bind together, to look forward with hope. It is not a passive sitting and waiting. It is the active waiting of one who knows that dawn will come, even when the night feels long. It is the waiting of someone who has tied their hope to the character of God Himself. In Psalm 130, it says, “I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in His word I hope.” This is the cry of those who trust God more than they trust what they see. They trust that God is faithful to His promises, even when everything around them seems uncertain.

Abraham knew this kind of waiting. God made a promise to him that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Yet year after year passed, and there was still no child. In Genesis 15:6, we read, “And he believed the LORD, and He counted it to him as righteousness.” The word for “believed” is aman (אָמַן), which means to be firm, to trust, to support. Abraham did not have visible proof, but he had a word from God, and God's word was enough for him. Later, in the same chapter, God makes a covenant with Abraham—a berith (בְּרִית)—a binding promise sealed by God Himself. Abraham waited, not because he had nothing else to do, but because he had heard the voice of the Almighty, and that was enough to keep him waiting in faith.

Paul echoes this in Romans 8:24: “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?” The kind of hope we are called to is not based on what is in front of us. It is based on what God has spoken. The Hebrew word for hope here is tiqvah (תִּקְוָה), meaning expectation. It is also the same word used for a cord, like the scarlet cord of Rahab. It is the thread that ties us to the promise, even when the promise has not yet been realized.

And then, on the cross, Jesus Himself cries out the words of Psalm 22: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” These are not words of defeat. They are the first line of a Psalm that begins in anguish but ends in victory. Jesus was not forsaken. The Father did not turn His face away from Him. Jesus said in John 12:27, “Now is My soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this cause came I unto this hour.” In the Greek, He says, “διὰ τοῦτο ἦλθον” — “for this reason I came.” Jesus was not surprised by what was happening. He was not abandoned by the Father. He was sent by the Father and went willingly. His cry was not one of despair, but one of fulfillment. By quoting Psalm 22, He was pointing to the truth that He was the one David had seen, the one David had prophesied. And just as Psalm 22 turns from lament to praise, so too did the cross give way to resurrection.

Even in the book of Revelation, this cry continues. In Revelation 6:10, the souls under the altar cry out, “How long, O Lord, holy and true, before You will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” They are not forgotten. They are not dismissed. They are told to rest a little longer, until the fullness of God's plan is complete.

So when we cry, “How long, O Lord?” we are not stepping outside of faith—we are stepping into the very language of Scripture. We are standing where David stood, where the prophets stood, where even the Son of God stood. And like them, we do not cry without hope. We cry with expectation. We cry with trust in the One whose promises are sure, whose timing is perfect, whose love is steadfast, and whose silence is never absence. To wait on the Lord is not to be forgotten—it is to be gathered into His purpose, until the time appointed, when He will act, and all that He has promised will be fulfilled.

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