“Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him.”
In Psalm 23, David wanders through the dark valleys of life, yet remains confident that God is with him, watching over him, caring for him, and guiding him.
If David had lived today, Psalm 62 might have been written in a coffee shop or a corner booth of his favorite restaurant. The man who knew the noise of battle, the pressures of leadership, and the chaos of family drama had somehow learned to seek out the secret of quiet. “My soul finds rest in God alone.”
Not in wealth or power or human relationships. Not in fulfilling his wish list.
In God alone.
David’s life wasn’t perfect when he wrote these words. The psalm hints that people were plotting against him, “bending their bows” with lies and insults. He was surrounded by unrest, but he chose to rest. His rest wasn’t a withdrawal from the world around him; it was an act of holy stubbornness. It’s saying, “The world can rage all around me, but my heart will not be a part of that.”
We often think faith is loud and public: big declarations, bold prayers, and energetic worship songs. And sometimes it is. But Psalm 62 reminds us that faith can also be private and whisper to our hearts. It can be the quiet confidence that God is still God, even when we’re out of energy and need to just “be.”
David uses a rare Hebrew word for “rest” here—dummiyah—which means silence, stillness, waiting without noise. It’s not passivity; it’s the kind of silence that finds peace and reenergizes the soul so that life can continue.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is stop talking, stop worrying, and let your soul catch up to your body. In a culture that doesn’t reward stillness, David reminds us that rest isn’t laziness. Sometimes, it’s worship. Because when we rest in God, we’re making a declaration of trust: “You are what I need. The world can wait.”
Psalm 62 is an invitation to breathe again and to remember that our security, hope, and identity are safe in God’s hands. He is our rock, our refuge, and our peace in a world that runs on caffeine and panic.
So maybe today’s act of faith isn’t doing more—it’s pausing more. Turning off the noise. Letting your soul, at long last, rest.
Prayer: Lord, my soul has been running on empty. Teach me to rest in you alone. When life feels loud and overwhelming, help me to remember that you are my rock and refuge. Quiet my anxious heart, and remind me that your presence is my peace. Amen.
