Our Best Efforts Are Useless Without God’s Blessing

“Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.”

Psalm 127:1, ESV

Psalm 127 is a wisdom psalm or poem that’s part of a trilogy:127,128, & 133. And that trilogy is part of a larger collection of “pilgrimage psalms” or “Songs of Ascent” (120-134) that were designed for the nation of Israel’s “going up” (ascending a hill or mountain) to Jerusalem for festivals. For example, 133 is about the joyful arrival at one of the parties.

The verse is striking and, given the year we’ve had in 2020, we all know well that you never know what you are going to wake up to, do you?

For a builder or a sentinel of an ancient city there was always the threat of hostile invasion. There could be attacks, drought, pestilence, disease, a raging fire, or a thousand other accidents.

To help blow the dust off this ancient Near Eastern psalm, let’s look at a few examples of how our world is more similar to the ancient Near Eastern world than we might realize:

  • Disease—In the midst of a global pandemic and the race for a vaccine, we’ve become painfully aware of our frailty. My wife and I have now lost three friends to the virus and we almost lost my eighty-year-old father.
  • Attack—Post 9-11, we all have a heightened sense of our vulnerability. More recently, we’ve witnessed racial tension with calls for police reform that burst into flames following the George Floyd homicide and similar events. And after all that, we started the new year with the violent insurrection of the Capital.
  • Drought—Besides threats related to climate change, some of us have faced extended periods of unemployment where our funds dried up and asked: If my child does excel in their studies, will I have enough to cultivate his or her gifts? Will I have enough to help get them into a good school and get a good start on life? Will I have enough for retirement? Or, as a student: How am I going to pay for college without any support? Will I lose my scholarship? Or, as a senior: Will I be able to pay my monthly bills? Will I be able to travel as much as I want or have enough for nursing care?

Again, the human condition is one of extreme vulnerability and this first strophe[1] of Psalm 127 is a reminder of that somewhere between human effort and human achievement is the mystery of God’s sovereignty and providence. Indeed, there’s a huge unknown gap that no amount of human vigilance or watchfulness can control:

  • “Consider the work of God: who can make straight what he has made crooked?” (Eccl. 7:13, ESV)
  • Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. (Prov. 19:21-ESV)

Psalm 127:1 is also a warning against the sin of presumption and trusting in our own strength. Moreover, it’s, again, a wise reminder to put our ultimate trust in God alone.

Several years ago, when our family was moving from Pennsylvania to New Jersey, I had my kid’s memorize Isa. 55:8-9:

“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'” (NIV)

My reason for doing so was that I didn’t want them to get discouraged if God ended up closing a door he at first seemed to be opening. At that time, I shared with a friend what we were memorizing and he suggested I add Jer. 29:11:

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ (NIV)

My wise friend didn’t want my family or me to forget the character, love, and passion of the one who is also holy, wholly other, and totally beyond us. That is, he is good and for us.

And I don’t want you to forget that either.

Are you going through some great difficulty right now? Don’t forget his character as you go through your time of struggle. Especially for his children, God never wastes pain.


[1] The first of a pair of stanzas of alternating form on which the structure of a given poem is based.