For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:13–16).

Today the Supreme Court, in a 6–3 decision (in effect 5–4 on the question of overturning it, since the Chief Justice concurred only in the judgment), overturned the 1973 decision Roe v. Wade, which legalized abortion nationwide, in my view the sacrifice of children in America. It has been nearly fifty years! Some of you have been praying with me for this very thing for as long as we can remember. We voted for presidents with this as the central issue. It was my number one reason for my vote in the 2016 presidential election. The justices appointed afterward included three who were understood to be pro-life, so that if by God's grace the issue came before the Supreme Court, they would vote rightly, and they did. Hallelujah!

Now, let's pray that every state will follow suit and protect unborn children. And let's pray that churches and Christians everywhere will also provide encouragement and support to help women with "unwanted" babies carry them to term and connect them with godly homes. As America turns toward the LORD, I believe the LORD will turn toward America. "Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you" (James 4:8).

Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD! (Psalm 33:12).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Psalm 139:13–16 has become one of the most frequently cited biblical texts in Christian reflection on unborn life, and its language supports that use. The psalmist speaks of God forming his “inward parts” and knitting him together in his mother’s womb, and of God’s eyes seeing his “unformed substance” (Hebrew golem, an embryo or unshaped mass) before any of his days had come. The same personal “I” runs from the womb to the present. Along with texts such as Jeremiah 1:5 and Luke 1:41–44, where the unborn John leaps for joy, Christians have long read this psalm as teaching that God knows and values human life before birth.

The church’s concern for unborn and newborn children is ancient. The Didache, a Christian manual from around the end of the first century, forbids both abortion and infanticide. Early Christians were known in the Roman world for rescuing and raising infants who had been abandoned to die. That history shows the consistent pattern the comment calls for in its second paragraph: conviction about the value of life joined to practical care for the vulnerable, including mothers facing crisis pregnancies.

Christians who share the conviction that unborn life is precious differ on questions of law, politics, and strategy. They weigh differently how much to seek change through legislation, elections, and courts, and how much through persuasion, support for families, adoption and foster care, and policies that address the pressures behind many abortions. They also differ on how to weigh this issue alongside others when voting. Scripture gives principles for this discernment but not a party platform, and believers who agree on the moral question can still reach different political conclusions in good conscience (Romans 14:4–5).

The comment’s application of Psalm 33:12 also raises a question Christians answer in different ways. In its original setting, “the nation whose God is the LORD” is Israel, “the people whom he has chosen as his heritage.” Some apply the verse by analogy to any nation that honors God; others emphasize that in the New Testament the people God has chosen is the church drawn from every nation (1 Peter 2:9). Both readings agree that righteousness exalts a nation (Proverbs 14:34) and that God’s people are called to pray for those in authority (1 Timothy 2:1–2).

The comment’s closing call to support women is its most widely shared point, and it deserves emphasis. Many women who face unplanned pregnancies do so with financial strain, relational instability, or fear. Churches that take Psalm 139 seriously are called to walk with them before and after birth, and to extend compassion and the hope of forgiveness to those who carry grief over past abortions. The God who knits each child together is also “near to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18). Care for both mother and child is where conviction becomes love.

"The fool says in his heart, 'There is no God.'" They are corrupt and do abominable deeds; there is none who does good. The Lord looks down from heaven on the children of men to see if there are any who understand and seek after God. They have all turned aside and together become corrupt; "there is none who does good, not even one" (a paraphrase of Psalm 14:1–3).

Psalm 14 is an interesting psalm, because it is repeated almost word for word in another psalm, Psalm 53. Both are attributed to David. Was this a mistake? When the Psalter was assembled, did the compilers simply overlook it and include the psalm twice? I don't believe it was a mistake.

As elsewhere in the Bible, repetition is used for emphasis. Here too I believe the psalm was repeated to emphasize, remind, and get our attention. What is the point of the psalm? Again, we discover it in the repetition of words and parallel thoughts: no one seeks after God; no one does good.

All, every one, are corrupt. No one, not even one, does good. This psalm gives the proper perspective on the universal state of mankind apart from God's grace. It is also why Jesus says, and then says again, that no one can come to Him unless the Father draws and enables him (cf. John 6:44, 65). These psalms are also the basis of Paul's argument in Romans 3 that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23; cf. 3:10–12).

This is also why I am so adamant in correcting the teaching that people can choose God as an act of their own free will. I believe it contradicts these and many other Scriptures that clearly teach that no one, not even one person, seeks after God. These Scriptures teach that apart from God's initiating work of grace, not only would no one seek God, but everyone would hurry the other way.

I confess I am somewhat baffled by those who cling to the notion of "free will" in salvation, pastors as well as laypeople, in view of what I see as the clear testimony of Scripture. I do not believe it is a matter of some Scriptures supporting one view and others supporting another. The texts people cite may support "will" or "choice," but not "free will" or "free choice." Every person can speak, but we speak English because it was taught to us. Every creature makes choices, but we choose salvation only because God first enabled us to do so.

Someone may say, "What about faith? We are saved through faith." What about it? Faith is a gift of God. Are you arguing that saving faith is not a gift from God, that it was yours from beginning to end, so that it is merely another word for "free will"? I see no support for this in Scripture. Ephesians 2:8–9 shows that every part of salvation is a gift of God, so that there is absolutely no room for boasting.

If you can claim to have chosen God of your own free will, are you not more discerning than someone who rejected Him? Isn't that a reason to boast? If you also believe that Christ died for the whole world, then the only thing separating you from the unsaved is your decision to choose Christ over their decision to reject Him. So all of salvation hinges on your will. Is this not something to your credit — and thus a kind of boast?

Some would even argue that God cannot override human free will. In the movie Bruce Almighty, God gives Bruce all His powers, but Bruce cannot make the woman he loves love him back, because, as the character playing God explains, you cannot mess with free will. I am not saying the movie teaches that people are God. But does it not treat "free will" as something even God must bow to?

Let us all be discerning!

AI-Expanded Reflection

The differences between Psalm 14 and Psalm 53 are themselves interesting. Psalm 53 belongs to the "Elohistic Psalter" (roughly Psalms 42–83), a collection that consistently prefers the general word Elohim, "God," over the covenant name YHWH. Many scholars think the same psalm circulated in two collections and was preserved in both when they were combined. The fifth verses differ more substantially: Psalm 14 says God is with the generation of the righteous, while Psalm 53 describes God scattering the bones of the besieger — perhaps adapted for a particular deliverance.

The "fool" of Psalm 14:1 is not primarily an intellectual atheist. The Hebrew nabal describes a morally senseless person — the same word is the name of Abigail's husband in 1 Samuel 25:25, "Nabal is his name, and folly is with him." To say in one's heart "there is no God" is to live as though God will not hold anyone to account, which is why the next line moves straight to corrupt deeds.

The comment's argument reflects the Reformed understanding of grace and the will, and it states that view with force. Christians in Wesleyan, Arminian, Lutheran, Catholic, and Orthodox traditions agree with the comment that no one seeks God apart from His prior grace, and that faith is not a meritorious work. They answer the "boasting" objection by comparing faith to an open hand receiving a gift — the recipient contributes nothing to the gift's value and has nothing to boast of. Where they differ is on whether God's enabling grace can be resisted. This is one of the church's longest-standing good-faith disagreements, and both sides share the comment's conviction that salvation is by grace alone.

In Psalm 9:17–18, the NKJV renders it: the wicked will be turned into hell, along with all the nations that forget God, but the needy won't always be forgotten, and the hope of the poor won't perish forever (a paraphrase of Psalm 9:17–18, NKJV). Compare that to the NIV, which renders the same verses as: the wicked go down to the realm of the dead, all the nations that forget God, but God will never forget the needy, and the hope of the afflicted will never perish (a paraphrase of Psalm 9:17–18, NIV). I actually prefer the NKJV's rendering here. While "hell" often simply represents the grave, the psalmist seems to be gesturing at something more than ordinary death — even the needy die, after all, so if only physical death were in view, the promise wouldn't mean much. Also notice how the NIV smooths the more awkward Hebrew phrasing — "shall not always be forgotten," "shall not perish forever" — into the more absolute "will never forget" and "will never perish." The problem is that this shift actually changes the meaning. The Lord often allows the needy and the righteous to suffer for a long time, sometimes an entire lifetime, which makes an absolute claim that God "never" forgets them, or that they'll "never" perish, sound almost false in the moment. The more literal rendering captures the intended sense better: they will not always be forgotten, and they will not always perish — meaning there will eventually come a time of redemption, an end to suffering, that will make everything endured in this life seem like nothing by comparison (see Romans 8:18; 1 Peter 1:3–9; Psalm 73). I'd encourage you all to read different translations from time to time — this site lets you switch translations easily using the search box above the daily readings, or set a new default under the Account link. Every translation is, in some sense, an interpretation; while most of us aren't Hebrew or Greek scholars able to independently judge every translation choice, we can compare versions and apply the most important interpretive test of all — context. Why does any of this matter? Some of us are suffering right now, or have suffered for a long time, even a lifetime, without relief. It's meaningful to know this isn't the end of the story — that our suffering, however long, won't last forever. God may seem, for a time, to have forgotten us, but He hasn't completely. Consider Christ Himself, who endured the cross for the joy set before Him (a paraphrase of Hebrews 12:2). Many people who read "God will never forget" and "the needy will never perish" wrongly assume that anyone who suffers for any length of time must be somehow outside God's will — like Job's friends, insisting you need to confess some hidden sin to prosper again. But consider: the very people given this promise are already described as "needy" in the first place. Are we supposed to assume all the needy the psalmist contrasts with the wicked are themselves wicked, and that's why they're needy? There's something to be said for the promise of material prosperity as it specifically applied to those living under the Mosaic Covenant in the Promised Land — though since Israel as a nation could never fully obey that covenant, they mostly experienced its curses instead. For us, who are no longer under the Mosaic Covenant, it's improper to claim its specific material blessings as our own. It's better not to place our hope in anything in this passing world. As Jesus taught, set your heart on things above (a reference to Matthew 6:19–21; Colossians 3:1–4; 1 John 2:15–17).

AI-Expanded Reflection

The translation comparison this comment works through is a genuinely useful case study in how English translations navigate a real trade-off: word-for-word approaches like the NKJV tend to preserve ambiguity and nuance the original language actually carries, while thought-for-thought approaches like the NIV aim for readability, sometimes resolving that same ambiguity in the process. Neither approach is simply wrong — they're built on different translation philosophies with different goals — but this comment's specific point stands: when a passage's ambiguity is doing real theological work, as it may be here regarding the timing and completeness of God's justice, a more literal rendering can preserve interpretive options a smoother one accidentally closes off. That's precisely why comparing translations, as this comment recommends, is such a valuable habit rather than a merely academic one.

As I read Psalm 10, I reflected on how I often bounce between "give us mercy!" and "punish the ungodly." I want mercy for everyone, and at times I just want a place solidly aware of God, including within myself.

But because God is merciful, He'll still come rolling in like a cloud of coming judgment right up to someone's door — and if repentance comes, He'll relent. It's the ones who refuse to relent who deserve mercy least, and yet that's exactly where God's mercy tends to go anyway.

In other words, I like that God isn't reactive to my feelings — shedding wrath when I'm angry or hurt, mercy only when I'm willing. But I can ask for any of this, knowing it will all be filtered through and carried out according to His perfection — including toward others I may have offended.

Psalm 12 says: "Help, LORD, for the godly are disappearing — cut off their flattering lips" (a paraphrase of Psalm 12:1, 3). It reminds me of Jesus saying to cut off your hand or gouge out your eye if it causes you to sin. And of something I once read, describing how one person's presence at the innocent joy of a village wedding was like sunshine itself — someone endlessly kind and compassionate toward sinners, yet capable of the most scorching words against sin itself; someone who wouldn't break a bruised reed, whose whole life was simply love (a paraphrase of a description I recall reading, possibly from an older devotional writer, describing Christ's character).

And a small sticker I have, quoting Calvin and Hobbes: "Love the sinner, hate the sin."

AI-Expanded Reflection

The description this comment recalls — someone who could be both scorchingly honest about sin and endlessly gentle with sinners — is exactly the combination the Gospels themselves keep highlighting in Jesus specifically. He's the one who tells religious leaders they're like whitewashed tombs (a paraphrase of Matthew 23:27) in the very same ministry where He eats with tax collectors and sinners without hesitation (Matthew 9:10–11). The tension this comment feels between wanting mercy for everyone and wanting the godly protected from those who prey on them isn't actually a contradiction to resolve — it's the exact tension Jesus lived out constantly, refusing to soften His words about sin while never once making that honesty a reason to withhold His presence from the people doing it.

Chapter 8 says God made man a little below Elohim. Some translate this as "God," some as "angels" — how is Elohim interchangeable like that? What does Elohim actually mean — creator, or something else?

Yujin responds... Elohim is the Hebrew word for "God" or "gods." It's plural in form, which has led some to suggest the Trinity is somehow embedded within the very word. Others suggest it's simply a plural of majesty or intensity, similar to how the word "holy" gets repeated three times by the seraphim addressing the LORD in Isaiah's vision. The word is also used, elsewhere, of the false "gods" of other nations — only context reveals which sense a biblical writer intends.

As for Psalm 8 being translated "angels" by some versions and "God" by others, this creates a bit of a grammatical and theological puzzle. In the Hebrew, elohim is nowhere else translated as "angels." But the ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament, the Septuagint — which appears to have been the primary resource many New Testament writers used — renders this specific word as "angels," not "God." The strongest case for "angels" comes from how the New Testament itself understands this verse: Hebrews 2:7 quotes it directly, rendering it as humanity being made a little lower than the angels (a paraphrase of Hebrews 2:7, quoting Psalm 8:5).

While elohim is normally "God" or "gods," that latter sense can carry the idea of angels, even fallen ones (demons). That human beings were made a little lower than the angels isn't hard to accept, and is arguably more theologically coherent than humans being made merely a little lower than God Himself — God can never properly be counted among the things that were "made" at all, and the rest of Scripture consistently teaches a vast gulf between God and human beings, as God Himself declares: His thoughts and ways are as far above ours as the heavens are above the earth (a paraphrase of Isaiah 55:8–9).

What's especially interesting is how Hebrews 2 handles this verse. The writer is making the case for Jesus's superiority over angels, and in doing so, cites Psalm 8:5. It would have been simple enough to argue this verse was purely messianic, describing Jesus alone as briefly lower than God. Instead, the writer correctly interprets it as describing humanity generally as lower than angels — then argues that Jesus, as the representative of redeemed humanity, provides the very path from being made "a little lower than angels" to being ultimately "crowned with glory and honor" (cf. Hebrews 2:9).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Worth flagging one correction here: the passage about God's thoughts being higher than ours — quoted above and often mentally filed under "Psalms" because of its poetic, worshipful tone — actually comes from Isaiah 55:8–9, not Psalm 55. It's an easy mix-up, since the verse sounds exactly like the kind of thing the Psalms say constantly, but it belongs to Isaiah's own extended invitation to seek the LORD while He may be found. The broader point Yujin draws from it stands regardless of the correct address: whether in a Psalm or a prophetic oracle, Scripture is remarkably consistent in refusing to let humanity's dignity (a little lower than the angels) collapse into some claim of equality with God, who remains categorically its Creator, never a member of the category of things "made."