Even When I Slip . . .
Consolation, not Condemnation
When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy (Psalm 94:18-19).
Lord, when I feel myself slipping into old patterns, sins I wish were conquered, but well, they just aren’t, this is my encouragement:
Your love is my support. It braces me when I totter and lose my footing. It lifts me to a place where I can stand again.
I’m glad the Psalmist didn’t say, “When my foot slipped, you gave me a tongue lashing.” No. In just such moments, you offer compassion, not chastisement.
Your correction and tone is gentle as you come alongside, saying things like, “Grab hold of my hand, and let me help you over those sharp rocks. Look, over there is the path that will take you around this treacherous area in the future. Now, let me lift you over that sinkhole.”
Such gentle, supportive instruction, Lord, motivates me to change. And it’s so different from how our transgressions are generally met—with pointing fingers, disapproving glares, and scolding lectures. So, when I’m anxious about my failures, when I’m troubled by my sins, I will confidently turn to you.
For I revel in your consolation. It is as constant as the constellations above. It is as refreshing as a brisk ocean breeze. It is as warm and comforting as a soft throw around my shoulders. You draw me close, wipe away my tears, and then steady me as I struggle to my feet once again.
Over and over you surprise me. I know that you are good, but still, with every failure, your gracious response astounds. Your commitment to love me with such patient kindness touches me deeply, Lord. Please accept my inadequate attempt to express the constant wonder and gratitude you evoke in my heart.
And here’s one more thing I’ve noticed. Leaning on your arm, from that position of safety and strength, your consolation gives me confidence to forcefully remind my accuser: “In my weakness, my God supports me with his love!”
Prayer: Lord, renewed surrender is the only response worthy of you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Quote from “GENTLE AND LOWLY,” by Dane C. Ortlund:
Look to Christ. He deals gently with you. It’s the only way he knows how to be. He is the high priest to end all high priests. As long as you fix your attention on your sin, you will fail to see how you can be safe. But as long as you look to this high priest, you will fail to see how you can be in danger. Looking inside ourselves, we can anticipate only harshness from heaven. Looking out to Christ, we can anticipate only gentleness.
This reframing of Psalm 94 is brillant—the shift from expecting condemnation to recieving gentle guidance really changes everything. I've noticed that when I approach my own setbacks with that same gentle tone it actually creates space for real growth instead of just shame spirals. The imagery of God offering a hand over sharp rocks versus a lecture feels spot-on for how transformation actually happens.
Amen, Amen, Amen. He forgives us past, present and future, He throws our sins as far as the east is from the west. It’s amazing when you think about it east never meets west and west never meets east. Thank you Ruth so very timely.