The Last Word

Jun 29

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Have you ever been in a conversation where someone drops the mic and walks away? Where they say something so profound, so final, that there's nothing left to add? That's what we expect from endings, isn't it? The crescendo. The triumphant finale. Fireworks. The moment where everything comes together in perfect harmony.

Psalm 119 doesn’t end like that. IT doesn't end with a victory lap. The most Scripture-saturated psalm in the entire Bible doesn't conclude with "I've got this figured out"? Instead, it ends with a desperate cry: “God, I'm lost without you.” And honestly? That might be the most encouraging thing in the entire psalm. Instead of signing off with a period, he puts a question mark. Instead of "The End," he writes "To be continued... by God's grace."

Because here's a truth we need to see before we even start to dig into this: The Christian life isn't about graduating from neediness. It's not about reaching some spiritual plateau where you finally have your act together. The psalm that most celebrates God's Word ends not with self-congratulation but with self-awareness. Not with "Look how far I've come" but with "God, I can't make it without you."

This, I believe, is intentional. Because the Word of God isn't meant to make us self-sufficient. It's meant to make us God-dependent. And that's where we begin today. Not with a conclusion, but with a call. A call to cry out. A call to worship. A call to walk by God's strength. A call to come home. A call to find everything we've ever longed for in the Word made flesh—Jesus. Let's read the final stanza of Psalm 119. And as we do, ask God to meet you right here, in the final verses, and show you again that His Word never fails and His mercy never ends.

Psalm 119:169-176

Cry out to the God who hears. (169–170)

"Let my cry come before you, O Lord; give me understanding according to your word!” (169) The Hebrew word for cry here isn't a quiet whimper. It literally means shouting. It's the kind of cry that echoes off canyon walls. It's the sound a person makes when they're drowning and see a rescue boat. “HELP!” And who is this cry going to? The Lord.

In ancient Near Eastern culture, approaching a king required protocol. You didn't just barge into the throne room screaming. That’s a good way to get killed. But here's what's revolutionary: the psalmist comes to the King of kings not with ceremony and pomp, but with emergency. Not because he deserves an audience, but because God has promised to hear. One of my favorite moments in scripture is when you see God hear the cries of his people. (Ex 3:7)[1] And for God to hear is synonymous with God acting. Your cries never fall on deaf ears with God.

Also, notice twice in 169-170 he says "according to your word." This isn't emotional manipulation. This is promise-pleading. He's essentially saying, "God, you wrote the check. I'm here to cash it."

"Give me understanding according to your word…Deliver me according to your word." Understanding and deliverance are the twin needs of every human soul. When your world is falling apart, you need to understand what's happening and you need someone to actually do something about it. The psalmist asks for both. And both are to be found where? According to God’s Word.

Encountering God always leads to worship. (171–172)

You know what happens when God shows up? We can't shut up about it. When God shows up, we can’t shut up. "My lips will pour forth praise, for you teach me your statutes." (171) The Hebrew verb suggests an unstoppable gushing, like a spring that's hit an underground river. It’s like hitting a water main. This isn't fake, fabricated worship. This is overflow.

Think about two things we can’t keep silent about. Truth and good news. If someone says something isn’t true to you that you know with certainty is true, you don’t care what the other person thinks. You tell them the truth no matter how sincerely they argue with you. “2+2=4, not 5. I don’t care what you think.” On the other hand, we can’t keep quiet about good news. We naturally share it. “Did you hear that incredible deal down at that store? Let me tell you what my kid accomplished!” The greatest news is the gospel of Jesus Christ. That a free pardon for our sins has been offered by God in the flesh. Jesus died and rose from the dead to give us life and salvation. There’s no greater news! And that leads to worship.

"My tongue will sing of your word, for all your commandments are right." (172) Notice what he's singing about. Not his feelings. Not his circumstances. He's singing about God's Word. Here's the thing about worship: it's always a response to revelation. You don't work up worship. You respond to what you've seen. To what is true. It’s not something that can be manipulated by the increasing rapidity of drums in a bridge. It’s a heart overflowing from the true content of their faith. The psalmist's lips pour forth praise because his eyes have been opened to see what is true about God's Word.

This explains why so much contemporary worship feels empty or shallow. We're trying to manufacture emotion instead of responding to truth. But worship that lasts is born when we encounter God in His Word. If your worship feels dry, don't chase feelings. Chase truth. Ask God to teach you again. The psalmist doesn't sing because his life is perfect. He sings because he's encountered the perfect God through His perfect Word.

You can walk in freedom by God’s strength. (173)

"Let your hand be ready to help me, for I have chosen your precepts." (173) This might be the most paradoxical verse in the psalm. The psalmist has made his choice. He's planted his flag on God's Word. But in the same breath, he confesses his absolute need for God’s assistance. This flies in the face of everything our culture teaches. We're told that choosing means you're in control. The psalmist reveals the opposite: the deeper your commitment to God's way, the more desperate you become for God's aid.

Think about warfare. A soldier doesn't fight alone according to his own plans. He chooses to follow his commander precisely because he needs leadership, strategy, and victory. The choice doesn't end the need for help. It determines where the help comes from.

We often think freedom means independence. But biblical freedom is the opposite. It's being bound to the right object. Jesus said, "My yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matt 11:30) That doesn't mean there's no yoke. It means His wisdom guides and His strength carries what we never could.

So if you've chosen God's way, don't try to walk it alone. His commands aren't burdens for you to lift. They're paths to freedom when you walk them with His strength. The world offers empty promises of freedom through autonomy. The gospel offers real freedom through surrender.

You can come home no matter how far you’ve wandered. (174–176)

Verses 174 and 175 say the same thing the psalmist has been saying. He’s longing for God’s salvation and He is delighting in God’s Word. "I long for your salvation, O Lord, and your law is my delight. Let my soul live and praise you, and let your rules help me.” This sounds like someone who has figured it out. This is someone on the far end of the path of sanctification. But there’s still one more verse to this psalm. And it is a completely unexpected ending.

“I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant, for I do not forget your commandments.” (176) After 175 verses of commitment and love, we get this confession: "I have gone astray." Not "I might." Not "I almost." But "I have."

But it's not a cry of despair. It's a cry of hope. He says, "Seek your servant." He's not running from God. He's asking to be found. This is the voice of someone who knows the character of the Shepherd, that He leaves the ninety-nine to pursue the one.

In ancient Israel, sheep were valuable but helpless. They had no homing instinct, poor eyesight, and were defenseless against predators. A lost sheep was a dead sheep unless the shepherd came looking. The psalmist knows this. He's not asking for directions home. He's asking for rescue from God.

Notice this crucial detail: "I do not forget your commandments." That doesn't mean he's kept them perfectly. It means he still knows where home is. His feet may have wandered, but his heart still aches for God's Word. The truth of God’s Word is what brings us back home.

My favorite singer/songwriter is Andrew Peterson. He is the greatest lyricist alive, I believe. And his lyrics highlight the human condition and the depths of God’s grace. In one of his songs, he’s writing to his son who is growing up. Hear some of what he says. It starts like this:

When I look at you, boy
I can see the road that lies ahead
I can see the love and the sorrow
Bright fields of joy
Dark nights awake in a stormy bed
I want to go with you, but I can't follow
So keep to the old roads
Keep to the old roads
And you'll find your way

After thinking through some things of what he’ll face in his life and singing the refrain of “Keep to the old roads and you’ll find your way,” I want you to hear the power and angst of the final verse and the bridge, and see how it resonates with the same cry and confession of the psalmist in this final verse:

And I know you'll be scared when you take up that cross
And I know it'll hurt, 'cause I know what it costs
And I love you so much and it's so hard to watch
But you're gonna grow up and you're gonna get lost
Just go back, go back

Go back, go back to the ancient paths
Lash your heart to the ancient mast
And hold on, boy, whatever you do
To the hope that's taken hold of you
And you'll find your way
You'll find your way
If love is what you're looking for
The old roads lead to an open door
And you'll find your way
You'll find your way
Back home, back home, back home

The old roads lead to an open door. You don’t need something new. You need something ancient. Something that’s sturdy. Something that hasn’t moved. Something that can hold you. You need God’s Word. At the center of everything. And you’ll find your way back home.

Maybe you've wandered. Maybe this season has exposed how far you've drifted. But the gospel doesn't say, "Come find your way back." It says, "The Shepherd is already on His way." You don't have to clean yourself up or chart the perfect path home. You just have to cry out. He hears. He comes. And when He finds you, He carries you home.

Jesus fulfills our every desire.

For 176 verses, the psalmist has walked us through valleys of sorrow and mountaintops of praise. He has wept in affliction and rejoiced in truth. But beneath it all—beneath every cry, every command, every confession—is a longing that only one Person can fulfill.

Psalm 119 isn't just about a book. It's about the God who speaks through the book. And the more you walk with the psalmist, the more you see that every longing he expresses, every promise he clings to, every command he obeys—it all points forward to Jesus, the Living Word made flesh.

He is the one who gives understanding. The one who delivers. The one who teaches, upholds, comforts, and saves. The one who seeks us when we stray.

So let the final message of Psalm 119 ring in your soul. Don't settle for admiring the words on the page. Come to the Savior they reveal. He is the fulfillment of the Word. He is the joy of your heart. He is the hope that will never fade. He is the final Word.