Tucked into the middle of the Bible is a small collection of fifteen psalms, each one labeled “A Song of Ascents.” Ancient worshipers sang them as they climbed the road up to Jerusalem for the yearly feasts. Imagine a dusty crowd of pilgrims, families and strangers together, singing their way uphill. These were the road-songs of God’s people.
What strikes me is how honest they are. They don’t begin at the mountaintop. The first one opens in distress: “In my trouble I cried to the Lord.” The journey to worship starts, as ours often does, from a hard place.
But as the songs go on, something shifts. There is a psalm about waiting through a sleepless night. One about the tears of sowing giving way to the joy of harvest. One, the shortest of all, about simply stilling a restless heart, “like a weaned child with its mother.” Step by step, the pilgrims climb — not by denying their troubles, but by carrying them Godward.
“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” — Psalm 121:1-2
That’s the pattern of faith, isn’t it? Not a single heroic leap, but a long walk, uphill, in company, singing as we go. Some days our voices are strong; other days we can barely hum along, and we lean on the family walking beside us.
Over the coming weeks I want us to walk these fifteen psalms together, one at a time. Bring your troubles with you. That’s exactly where the road begins.
