The Sons of Korah: Week 11

A Devotion and Longing for God
​Psalm 88

The story of the Sons of Korah is one of remarkable redemption. Their ancestor, Korah, rebelled against God’s appointed leadership and perished under dramatic judgment (Num. 16). But “the sons of Korah did not die” (Num. 26:11). They lived—and from their lineage came some of the most heartfelt expressions of longing, worship, and devotion in the Psalms.

Though Korah sought to approach God on his own terms, his descendants teach us, through inspired song, what it means to approach God with reverence, humility, and awe. Let’s journey through the 11 psalms attributed to the Sons of Korah—Psalms 42, 44–49, 84, 85, 87, and 88. These psalms reflect a deep yearning for God’s presence and a resilient trust in His goodness, even in times of sorrow and silence.

From “As the deer pants for the water” (Psalm 42) to “How lovely is Your dwelling place” (Psalm 84), their words invite us to examine our own hearts. Do we long for God in this way? Do we worship Him as holy? Can we trust His redeeming work, even in our failures?

Join us each week, August 5–October 14, as we explore 11 psalms and the legacy of worship that grew from these once-rebellious roots. Their story reminds us that no one is too far gone for God to redeem and use for His glory—The Sons of Korah: A Devotion and Longing for God.

“O Lord, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before You. Let my prayer come before You; incline Your ear to my cry!

For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength, like one set loose among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom You remember no more, for they are cut off from Your hand. You have put me in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep. Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and You overwhelm me with all your waves. Selah

You have caused my companions to shun me; You have made me a horror to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape; my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call upon You, O Lord; I spread out my hands to You. Do You work wonders for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise You? Selah 

Is Your steadfast love declared in the grave, or Your faithfulness in Abaddon? Are Your wonders known in the darkness, or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?

But I, O Lord, cry to You; in the morning my prayer comes before You. O Lord, why do You cast my soul away? Why do You hide your face from me? Afflicted and close to death from my youth up, I suffer your terrors; I am helpless. Your wrath has swept over me; Your dreadful assaults destroy me. They surround me like a flood all day long; they close in on me together. You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness.” Psalm 88:1-18

Psalm 88 is perhaps one of the most haunting passages in all of Scripture. Unlike other psalms that end in praise or resolution, this one closes in darkness—literally. The final words are, “My companions have become darkness.” Yet even in this seemingly hopeless place, there is a raw and holy devotion—a steadfast longing for God that refuses to let go.

This psalm, the eleventh attributed to the Sons of Korah, gives voice to the cry of a soul overwhelmed by sorrow, isolation, and the silence of Heaven. And though it is a psalm of lament, it is also a profound picture of faith that clings to God when every sense of His presence is gone.

The psalm begins with a declaration: “O Lord, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before You” (Psalm 88:1). Even here, in the opening line, we see faith—fragile, yet fierce. The psalmist doesn’t run from God in his despair; he runs to Him. Though he feels forsaken, he still addresses the Lord as “God of my salvation.” This is the language of devotion. It’s a heart saying, “Even when I can’t feel You, I know You are still my God.” The repetition of “day and night” shows a continual reaching toward God—a persistence born not of comfort, but of covenant love. The psalmist refuses to stop praying, even when Heaven seems silent.

This is no superficial pain. The writer describes his soul as “full of troubles” and his life as drawing near to Sheol (the grave). He feels forgotten, buried alive, cut off from God’s hand. “You have put me in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep” (Psalm 88:6). Here, the psalmist doesn’t hide his anguish—he attributes his suffering directly to God. He doesn’t sugarcoat it or pretend to understand. And yet, this honesty is not rebellion—it’s intimacy. Only someone who truly knows God’s character can speak this freely. Only a child secure in love can say, “Father, why?” Psalm 88 reminds us that faith doesn’t always look like triumph—it often looks like tears. True devotion holds fast to God even when it feels as if He’s the One doing the wounding.

One of the most difficult experiences in the life of faith is when God seems silent. The psalmist pleads, “O Lord, why do You cast my soul away? Why do You hide Your face from me” (Psalm 88:14)? This sense of divine hiddenness can feel unbearable, yet even here, the psalmist keeps crying out. He may not feel God’s presence, but he believes in God’s power. He continues to pray, to reach, to hope—because devotion is not built on emotion, but on trust. The Sons of Korah were known for their songs of worship—many filled with joy, deliverance, and confidence in God’s nearness. But Psalm 88 shows another side of worship: the worship of perseverance. This psalm teaches us that lament is not the opposite of faith—it is an expression of it. To bring our pain, confusion, and sorrow before God is an act of worship. It is saying, “Even when I can’t see You, I still believe You are the only One who can save me.” Though the psalmist finds no relief, he never stops praying. His devotion is not based on circumstances—it’s anchored in covenant love.

Psalm 88 ultimately points us to Jesus—the Man of Sorrows who was “despised and rejected,” who cried out from the cross, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me” (Matthew 27:46)? In Christ, the darkness of Psalm 88 finds its answer. He entered the depths of our despair, experienced the silence of the Father, and emerged victorious over death so that we would never be truly forsaken. The psalm ends in darkness, but the story of redemption does not. Because of Jesus, the darkness is not the end—it’s the beginning of dawn.

Psalm 88 invites us into an honest, unfiltered relationship with God. It gives permission to bring our pain to Him, to cry out when life feels unbearable, and to trust that He hears us—even in the silence. Devotion is not always seen in the songs of joy, but often in the cries of the brokenhearted. The psalmist’s persistent prayer—his refusal to let go—is a testament of deep longing for the only One who can truly heal. When we cry out from our own “regions dark and deep,” we join a long line of faithful hearts who dared to hope in the night. And in that hope, we find this truth: Even when darkness surrounds us, devotion holds on.

When the light of God’s presence feels hidden and your prayers seem unanswered, will you still cry out to Him—trusting that even in the silence, He is near?

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