Psalm 25:18

The Message

Take a hard look at my life of hard labor, Then lift this ton of sin.

Cross References

Psalm 119:153

Take a good look at my trouble, and help me— I haven’t forgotten your revelation. Take my side and get me out of this; give me back my life, just as you promised. “Salvation” is only gibberish to the wicked because they’ve never looked it up in your dictionary. Your mercies, God, run into the billions; following your guidelines, revive me. My antagonists are too many to count, but I don’t swerve from the directions you gave. I took one look at the quitters and was filled with loathing; they walked away from your promises so casually! Take note of how I love what you tell me; out of your life of love, prolong my life. Your words all add up to the sum total: Truth. Your righteous decisions are eternal. * * *

Psalm 132:1

O God, remember David, remember all his troubles! And remember how he promised God, made a vow to the Strong God of Jacob, “I’m not going home, and I’m not going to bed, I’m not going to sleep, not even take time to rest, Until I find a home for God, a house for the Strong God of Jacob.”

Lamentations 1:9

She played fast and loose with life, she never considered tomorrow, and now she’s crashed royally, with no one to hold her hand: “Look at my pain, O God! And how the enemy cruelly struts.”

Lamentations 5:1

“Remember, God, all we’ve been through. Study our plight, the black mark we’ve made in history. Our precious land has been given to outsiders, our homes to strangers. Orphans we are, not a father in sight, and our mothers no better than widows. We have to pay to drink our own water. Even our firewood comes at a price. We’re nothing but slaves, bullied and bowed, worn out and without any rest. We sold ourselves to Assyria and Egypt just to get something to eat. Our parents sinned and are no more, and now we’re paying for the wrongs they did. Slaves rule over us; there’s no escape from their grip. We risk our lives to gather food in the bandit-infested desert. Our skin has turned black as an oven, dried out like old leather from the famine. Our wives were raped in the streets in Zion, and our virgins in the cities of Judah. They hanged our princes by their hands, dishonored our elders. Strapping young men were put to women’s work, mere boys forced to do men’s work. The city gate is empty of wise elders. Music from the young is heard no more. All the joy is gone from our hearts. Our dances have turned into dirges. The crown of glory has toppled from our head. Woe! Woe! Would that we’d never sinned! Because of all this we’re heartsick; we can’t see through the tears. On Mount Zion, wrecked and ruined, jackals pace and prowl. And yet, God, you’re sovereign still, your throne intact and eternal. So why do you keep forgetting us? Why dump us and leave us like this? Bring us back to you, God—we’re ready to come back. Give us a fresh start. As it is, you’ve cruelly disowned us. You’ve been so very angry with us.”