Theme:
When strength fades and accusation rises, faith clings to God’s nearness—remembering lifelong mercy and asking for help that leads to praise.
Tone:
Pressed but persevering.
Structure:
From urgent lament, to remembered faith, to renewed petition and promised praise—without denying the ongoing threat.
The Call
The psalm opens with a plea that is both desperate and deeply practiced: “In you… I take refuge.” The speaker is not experimenting with prayer but returning to it. Yet the urgency is sharp—enemies watch for weakness, and the heart feels the frightening possibility of being left alone. The first cry is for protection, but underneath it is a deeper request: that shame would not have the final word.
The Reflection
The psalmist looks back over a lifetime and discovers that memory itself becomes a shelter. God is not introduced as a new rescuer but as a faithful companion “from my youth,” even “from my mother’s womb.” In this lament, the past is not nostalgia—it is evidence. The accusations of enemies (“God has forsaken him”) are answered not with arguments, but with testimony: God has carried, delivered, sustained.
And still, the pain is not romanticized. Age brings new vulnerability: “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent.” The lament is honest enough to admit that lifelong faith does not prevent seasons where help must be urgently sought again. Yet the theology is steady: God is righteous, dependable, and able to restore dignity. The psalmist’s hope is not in personal resilience but in God’s character—steadfast enough to be asked, again and again, not to be far away.
The Resolve
The psalm ends with a commitment that is both defiant and tender: the mouth will keep praising, the life will keep witnessing—especially “to another generation.” Deliverance is sought, but so is purpose. The tension is not fully erased; enemies still exist, threats still press. But the closing posture is clear: even before the rescue is seen, the psalmist chooses ongoing hope—“I will hope continually”—and anticipates that God will turn shame into song.
Psalm 71 gives voice to the faithful sufferer who is surrounded, misunderstood, and seemingly abandoned—yet refuses to let go of God. Jesus enters that same landscape of lament, taking up the cry of the righteous afflicted and enduring the taunts that imply God has forsaken him. In Christ, we see that God’s nearness is not a fragile feeling but a costly promise: the Son bears isolation and accusation so that those who are weak, aging, or overwhelmed may pray this psalm with confidence.
And because Jesus is risen, the psalm’s movement toward praise is not wishful thinking. The God who sustained the psalmist from the womb has acted decisively in the incarnation—God truly drawing near. In him, the church learns to lament honestly while holding fast to hope that will not finally be put to shame.
A key repeated plea is “do not be far” (Hebrew אַל־תִּרְחַק, ’al-tirḥaq), a relational cry more than a request for information or distance. The psalmist is not merely asking for solutions, but for the felt and saving presence of God—the nearness that turns vulnerability into refuge.
"Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent." — Psalm 71:9
Answer the questions below. When you choose an option, you will see the result and an explanation.
1. What does the psalmist especially ask God not to do when old age comes and strength is gone?
2. According to the psalm’s closing resolve, what does the psalmist commit to do continually?