After the long ache of Psalm 69, Psalm 70 arrives like a cry torn from the chest. It is only five verses, but it feels like a soul running. “Hasten, O God, to save me; come quickly, LORD, to help me” (New International Version). This is not a carefully arranged prayer. It is what remains when pain has burned away every unnecessary word.
The psalm’s title says it is “for remembrance.” The Hebrew word, lehazkir, likely leans toward the language of the temple’s “memorial offering”—the portion placed on the altar, rising before God. Archaeology has uncovered small incense altars in Judah, reminders that Israel imagined prayer not only as speech, but as something that ascends. Psalm 70 is like that: a handful of words thrown onto holy fire. “Remember me.” Not because God forgets, but because covenant faith gives us permission to speak urgently. This is the same holy boldness heard in Luke 23:42: “Jesus, remember me.”
Notice the clash of voices in the psalm. The enemies say, “Aha! Aha!” In the ancient world, that was not mild teasing. In a shame-honor culture, public mockery could strip a person of standing, safety, and dignity. It was a kind of social violence. Western readers often miss this. But David answers that cruel chorus with another: “Let all who seek you rejoice… let those who long for your saving help always say, ‘Let God be exalted!’” There are two liturgies here: the liturgy of mockery and the liturgy of praise. One tries to shrink the sufferer. The other magnifies God.
There is also a tender mystery in this psalm’s relation to Psalm 40. Much of Psalm 70 repeats Psalm 40:13–17, but with sharper edges. In Psalm 40, David says, “the Lord thinks of me.” Here the line is gone; all that remains is, “I am poor and needy; come quickly to me.” Distress has shortened the prayer. Yet faith survives the shortening. Sometimes deep trial does not leave us with rich language, only with true language.
The church has understood this well. The desert fathers used Psalm 70:1 as a constant prayer against temptation. Benedict placed it at the opening of daily prayer. Augustine heard in this psalm not only David’s voice, but Christ’s voice in the body of his people. And indeed, Jesus entered the world’s “Aha!”—its scorn, its public shaming—and turned it into redemption.
“I am poor and needy” is not self-contempt. It is clarity. We do not come to God with leverage. We come with lack. And the gospel is that this is enough, because “You are my help and my deliverer.”
Suggested cross-references: Psalm 40:13–17; Psalm 71:12; Luke 23:42; Acts 10:4; Mark 15:29; Hebrews 13:6; Revelation 8:3–4.
Hymn suggestion: Jesus, Lover of My Soul.
Prayer:
Lord, when my words grow small, let them still rise to You. Remember me
in mercy. Silence the voices that mock, and teach my heart to say, even
in haste, “Let God be exalted.” You are my help and my deliverer; do not
delay. Amen.