This verse is basically like a pep talk from David to remind us that, hey, it’s not about us holding it all together. Spoiler alert: we can’t. And we’re not supposed to. David knew a thing or two about stress—he was on the run from enemies, juggling a kingdom, and probably dealing with more family drama than a Thanksgiving dinner where no one agrees on politics. And yet, here he is, saying all the stuff we crave—salvation, honor, security—it’s in God’s hands. Not in your hands, not in your paycheck, not in your Instagram likes. Nope, none of that.
Now, let’s talk about the “rock” bit. I’ve always thought it’s funny that David calls God his rock. Like, of all the metaphors, he could’ve picked a powerful lion or a majestic eagle or something. But a rock? I mean, not exactly exciting. However, a rock is sturdy, unmovable, dependable. There’s something beautifully stubborn about rocks, and when life is throwing curveballs faster than you can swing, you want that kind of stability. You don’t need fancy or flashy; you need something that stays put.
And when David calls God his “refuge,” well, that’s just the icing on the cake. Think of it this way: a refuge is where you run when it all feels too much. It’s your place of retreat, your safe space. Only this isn’t some trendy cabin in the woods you found on Airbnb; it’s God Himself. And His doors are always open—no blackout dates, no reservations required. You can show up messy, exhausted, and scared. He’s not going anywhere.
In a world where everything feels like it’s shifting under your feet—whether it’s politics, relationships, or your latest attempt to cook something that doesn’t involve the microwave—Psalm 62:7 reminds you that God doesn’t change. He’s got this. And He’s got you. Rock on.
