Waiting in the Deep
Adam Mouw

Scripture: Psalm 130 
Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you. I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.

Devotional
There are times in life that feel like a wasteland — a dark place that only promises isolation and loss. The psalmist knew this place. So did Ezekiel, standing in a valley of bones so dry that hope itself seemed beyond reach (Ezekiel 37). 

The Lenten season is a time to reflect on what the Lord has called us to be and to be honest with ourselves of where we fall short of these expectations. This leads us to accept that we can’t lead ourselves out of the wasteland. That’s only possible in what the redemption offers. 

The psalmist doesn’t pretend to be fine. He cries from the depths. He acknowledges that no one could stand before God if every sin were counted. And yet — “with you there is forgiveness.” Not because we deserve it. Not because we have performed well enough or prayed long enough. But because that is simply who God is. Forgiving. Redeeming. Raising the dead.

This grace is not a one-time gift; it’s ever present in our lives and we are asked to make that grace the centerpiece of our relationship with God, and each other. God is always at work in us. The question, and the challenge in today’s world, is whether we are paying attention.

That’s where I stumble. Not because I reject the gift, but because I quietly stop marveling at it. Think of the teenager who opens an amazing Christmas gift, something that required sacrifice, thought, and deep love and all you get in return is a “huh” before moving on to the next thing. We all do that. We hear the story of redemption so many times that it starts to sound like background noise. Lent is about getting back to intentionally understanding the immensity of Jesus’ sacrifice and to reflect on where we fail to show through our actions our gratitude. It’s a chance to pick it up, turn it over, and remember what it cost.

When we truly internalize what has been given to us, in our bones, it should change how we see the world. I like to think of it as your dog who has been waiting all day by the front door. When you finally walk in, nothing else in that room matters. They live for that reunion, and when it comes, the joy is complete and unrestrained. That is not a bad picture of what a life shaped by grace can look like. Not obligation. Not performance. Just the deep, intense joy of belonging to Someone who will always come back to you.

This Lenten season, we are invited to understand what a life without this gift looks like, a barren wasteland.  We wait for the Easter miracle with excitement and expectation. We are invited to receive the breath of new life, again and again, and then to carry that grace outward into our relationships, our communities, and toward every person we meet; no matter where they are on their journey out of the wasteland. 

The morning always comes; God’s grace is ever present. That is not sentiment. That is the everlasting promise made manifest in resurrection.

Prayer:
Gracious and merciful Lord, we come to You from whatever depths we find ourselves in today. Forgive us for the times we have treated your gift of life as ordinary. Renew in us the wonder of the resurrection — not just as a future hope, but as a present, daily reality. In this Lenten season, teach us to wait on You with expectant hearts, and to show our gratitude not merely in words, but in lives poured out in love for others. We ask this in the name of the One who is the Resurrection and the Life, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.