**The Cry in the Night: A Meditation on Psalm 77**

In the quiet hours of the night, when the world lay shrouded in darkness and the only sound was the distant murmur of the wind through the olive trees, a man named Asaph knelt upon the cold stone floor of his chamber. His heart was heavy, his spirit weighed down by troubles he could scarcely name. The flickering light of a single oil lamp cast long shadows upon the walls, mirroring the turmoil within his soul.

With trembling hands, he lifted his voice to the Lord, not in song as he had so often done before, but in a raw and desperate cry.

*”I cry out to God; yes, I shout. Oh, that God would listen to me!”*

Tears streaked his face as he poured out his anguish. Where was the God of his fathers? Where was the One who had delivered Israel from Egypt, who had parted the Red Sea and led His people through the wilderness? Had the Lord forgotten to be gracious? Had His promises failed?

Asaph’s mind raced with memories of brighter days—when he had stood in the courts of the Lord, leading the people in psalms of praise. But now, the songs stuck in his throat. Sleepless nights had become his portion, and when he closed his eyes, visions of his distress tormented him.

*”Has the Lord rejected me forever? Will He never again be favorable?”*

Yet even in his despair, a flicker of faith remained. He rose from his knees and took up a scroll, unrolling it slowly. The words of the ancients whispered to him—stories of God’s mighty deeds, of wonders performed in times long past. His fingers traced the lines of scripture, and as he read, the darkness in his heart began to lift.

He remembered the Exodus—how the children of Israel had stood trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the raging sea. They, too, had cried out in terror, certain that death was upon them. But the Lord had heard. The waters had split like torn cloth, and a path had opened through the depths.

*”Your road led through the sea, Your pathway through the mighty waters—a pathway no one knew was there!”*

Asaph’s breath steadied. The God who had made a way where there was no way had not changed. The same power that had shaken the earth at Sinai, the same voice that had spoken from the whirlwind, was still sovereign over all creation.

He stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against his face. Above him, the stars blazed in silent testimony to the Creator’s majesty. The same hand that had carved a path through the sea held the universe in place.

A quiet assurance settled over him. His circumstances had not changed, but his perspective had. The Lord had not abandoned him. The trials of the moment were not the end of the story.

With renewed strength, Asaph returned to his chamber, took up his lyre, and began to play. The melody was soft at first, tentative, but it grew in confidence as he sang:

*”I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your miracles of long ago. I will meditate on all Your works and consider all Your mighty deeds.”*

The night no longer felt oppressive. Though his questions remained unanswered, he knew the One who held the answers. And that was enough.

For even in the darkest hour, the faithfulness of God endured.