The Life of a Believer is a Sovereign Story

(Finding Comfort in the God Who Counts Our Tears)

Scripture Reference: Psalm 56:8–11

“You have kept count of my wanderings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call. This I know, that God is for me. In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise—in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me?”

Some Personal Reflection

As I sit down to share tonight’s devotional, I feel the need to begin with something personal. What I write here is not easy, but it is honest, and I trust the Lord will use it as He sees fit.

When I think about the life and times of the man the Bible calls “a man after God’s own heart” (Acts 13:22), I cannot help but reflect on King David. His life was anything but ordinary. It was marked by soaring victories and crushing defeats, moments of courage and times of despair. His days were filled with one adventure after another, and many of them brought him to the very edge of hopelessness. Yet through it all, David’s story was a living testimony of the sovereignty and providence of God.

David penned nearly half of the Psalms, and in them we hear the heartbeat of a man crying out to his God. Again and again, we see him pleading for mercy, begging the Lord to hear his prayers, and asking Him to “answer speedily” in the midst of suffering. Psalm 56:8 was not just inspired poetry to David—it was deeply personal. The thought that the Almighty God of the universe would take note of his tears and collect them in His bottle was a truth that carried David through many nights of anguish.

I cannot compare my life to David’s, but in a small way, I understand the depth of his weeping. Over the past twelve-plus years, living with relentless daily pain, I have shed more tears than I ever thought possible. And though I know David’s imagery was metaphorical, the reality that God Himself records my sorrows and keeps count of my tears remains one of the most humbling and comforting truths I know. To realize that the Lord of heaven stoops down to mark even my tears in His book—it is both astonishing and deeply moving.

This truth has been especially dear to me in light of a recent event. Just five days ago, in the early morning hours following my 70th birthday, I experienced what I now know was my sixth stroke. Around 3 a.m., while taking a short break from writing letters to prisoners, I suddenly blacked out. My vision blurred, and for a few moments, I didn’t know where I was. I sat completely still until I could regain some composure, and after about thirty minutes, I attempted to stand. It quickly became clear what had taken place.

By God’s mercy, my life was spared yet again. I was not left speechless, nor paralyzed, and for that I am grateful beyond words. But this stroke did leave its mark. My mobility has declined further, leaving me barely able to walk, and, most painfully of all, the burning sensation of my disease has intensified significantly—something I had prayed would not happen.

So now, as I wait on the Lord to renew my strength, I find myself once again leaning fully upon His sustaining grace. I had to cancel all three of my prison visits this past weekend, which grieved me deeply, for I long to be with my dear friends behind those walls, ministering the Word of life. In times past, with each passing day, I have slowly regained enough strength to continue the work. I am praying this will be the case again. I cannot imagine being unable to travel to the prisons the Lord has called me to for nearly thirty years.

And so, dear friends—both those reading these words on the outside and those sitting in a prison cell tonight—I thank you from the depths of my heart for your steadfast prayers. You have no idea how much they mean to me. I trust the Lord will keep His hand upon me, that His will shall be done, and that He will use even this affliction for my good and for His glory.

Now then, with that said, let us turn together to tonight’s devotional thought.

Introduction: The God Who Bottles Our Tears

Psalm 56 contains one of the most intimate and comforting images in all of Scripture: “You have kept count of my wanderings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” (v. 8). With this one verse, David lifts our hearts into a staggering truth—that the God of heaven is not distant, detached, or dismissive of our pain. Rather, He is deeply attentive, tenderly collecting every tear we shed, storing them as treasures in His bottle, and recording each sorrow in His eternal book.

Pause and think about this: we serve the infinite Creator of the universe, the One who speaks galaxies into being and directs the rise and fall of nations. And yet, He stoops low enough to notice a single tear sliding down your cheek. He does not let it evaporate into nothingness. He does not brush it aside as insignificant. Instead, He gathers it, stores it, and memorializes it in His heavenly record. In other words, God cares so deeply for His children that He dignifies their pain and ensures that not a drop of it is wasted.

David’s life at this point was not glamorous. He was a fugitive, hunted by Saul, a man without a home, a man sleeping in caves, a man betrayed and slandered. He knew what it was to be misunderstood, rejected, and surrounded by enemies who wanted him dead. In those lonely nights, tears were his closest companions.

But rather than seeing those tears as evidence of weakness or defeat, David remembered that God was counting them, preserving them, and weaving them into His sovereign plan. This truth became his anchor: “This I know, that God is for me” (v. 9).

What a staggering comfort—that the Almighty Author of our lives takes account of every wandering step and every weeping moment. He is not writing a story in which your sorrows are wasted ink. No, every trial, every setback, every tear is part of the narrative He is telling for your ultimate good and His eternal glory.

This is why David could declare with courage, “In God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me?” (vv. 10–11). His tears did not paralyze him, because he knew the Author who preserved them would also redeem them.

This verse also reminds us of something profoundly personal: God does not only see our triumphs; He cherishes our troubles. The world keeps records of our achievements, our successes, and even our failures—but God keeps records of our sorrows. That means when you feel like no one else understands your pain, God not only understands it, He values it. When you think your tears fall unseen in the silence of the night, the truth is that heaven itself has stored them in a bottle. When you fear your sufferings are meaningless, God whispers through His Word, “Child, your story matters. Every moment is written in My book.”

And this is not mere sentiment. The God who bottles our tears is also the God who promises to one day wipe them away forever (Revelation 21:4). The bottle is temporary. The book is permanent. He saves our tears because He intends to transform them into testimonies of His grace. Someday, you will see how each drop of sorrow was used to sanctify you, strengthen you, and draw you closer to Him.

For us, then, the image of God’s tear-bottle is not simply poetic—it is profoundly practical. It means that no suffering is wasted, no wandering is meaningless, and no story is hopeless. Our lives are not random accidents or chaotic scripts spiraling out of control. They are sovereign stories written by the hand of a loving God who both records and redeems our pain.

And if this is true—and it is—then we can face life with renewed courage. We can endure trials, knowing our tears are not forgotten. We can stand against enemies, knowing our Author writes the final chapter. We can lift our heads in dark valleys, knowing the same God who bottles our tears will one day wipe them away.

Characters in His Story

Throughout Scripture, God uses metaphors to remind us of His sovereignty. We are trees in His garden, sheep in His fold, clay in His hands, and—here in Psalm 56—characters in His story. David, while running from King Saul, confesses that nothing is outside of God’s knowledge or control. His tears are not wasted ink spilled on the page of life. They are carefully kept by the Author, stored in His heavenly bottle as evidence that He sees, remembers, and values even our pain.

When you suffer, you are not abandoned. You are part of a greater narrative authored by the God who makes no mistakes.

Your Chapter in His Book

David’s confidence did not come from his own strength but from knowing that God had already written his story. Even though enemies lay in wait for him, David trusted that every moment had meaning in God’s sovereign plan. Psalm 139:16 affirms this truth: “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”

When you realize your life has already been authored by God, fear loses its power. The chaos of today is part of the chapter that leads to tomorrow’s glory. What feels like meaningless pain is actually purposeful. Every tear you cry is accounted for and written down in the divine record.

Happy Ending Guaranteed

Knowing God is Author is good news, but knowing He is for us is even better. David boldly declares, “This I know, that God is for me” (Psalm 56:9). Paul echoes this truth in Romans 8:31, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

This means no plot twist can ruin your story. The end is secure. God is committed to bringing you safely into His presence. The Bible closes with the ultimate eucatastrophe—the sudden joyous turn where sorrow becomes joy, tears are wiped away, and death itself is undone (Revelation 21:4). Every believer’s story ends in triumph because the Author Himself ensures it.

Fearful to Fearless

Twice in this psalm David says, “I shall not be afraid” (verses 4, 11). His circumstances had not changed—he was still in danger—but his heart had shifted because he remembered who held the pen. Fear loses its grip when faith sees the hand of the Author behind every line.

The same God who bottles your tears is the same God who says, “Do not fear, for I am with you” (Isaiah 41:10). Courage is not found in our ability but in the certainty that God writes every detail and guarantees the ending.

Application to Prisoners

For those behind bars, Psalm 56 speaks with a unique and powerful voice. Prison life can often feel like endless wandering—days blurring together, tears falling unnoticed, and stories that seem to have no resolution. Many incarcerated men and women believe their story is ruined beyond repair, that too much has been written in the ink of regret, failure, and shame.

But Psalm 56 tells you otherwise. It reminds you that your story is not lost. God has counted your wanderings—even the ones that led you into dark places. He has bottled your tears—even the ones shed alone in a prison cell when no one else saw. He has written every detail of your life in His book—not as wasted pages, but as chapters in His sovereign story.

Think about this: if God bottles your tears, then none of your suffering is meaningless. Every sleepless night, every pang of loneliness, every cry of repentance is precious to Him. He saves it all because He intends to redeem it all.

Prison can feel like the end of your story, but in Christ, it can become the turning point. Many of the greatest saints endured their deepest growth in confinement—Joseph in Pharaoh’s prison, Jeremiah in a cistern, Paul and Silas in chains. Their tears were bottled, their wanderings recorded, and their endings secure.

So what about you? God can take your story—even the broken, painful parts—and write a redemptive ending. He can turn your prison cell into holy ground, your sentence into a testimony, your failures into a witness of His grace.

Here’s the promise: “This I know, that God is for me.” That means if you belong to Christ, your past cannot condemn you, your present cannot define you, and your future cannot be stolen from you. Your story belongs to the Sovereign Author, and He always writes with grace.

Final Thought

Life often feels like fragments scattered on the floor—wanderings, failures, regrets, unanswered prayers, broken dreams. But Psalm 56 tells us that what feels scattered to us is carefully gathered by God. Every tear we shed is collected. Every wandering is tracked. Every chapter is written. Nothing is wasted.

This means your story, believer, is not random chaos but sovereign design. Even the darkest chapters are not dead ends—they are steppingstones toward the ending God has secured. Imagine that: the God of the universe cares enough to bottle your tears. He does not dismiss your pain; He dignifies it by preserving it. Your tears are not lost in the ground; they are treasures in heaven.

Think of a child keeping a keepsake box. Every trinket matters because of the love attached to it. In the same way, your tears are precious to your heavenly Father. He remembers them because He intends to redeem them. Someday, in eternity, He will show you how each tear was woven into His sovereign story of grace.

And because He is the Author, you can face the future with courage. No enemy, no prison sentence, no sickness, no sorrow can alter the ending He has written for you. If you are in Christ, your story ends in glory. Period.

For prisoners, this means that your life is not defined by the bars around you, the mistakes behind you, or the label society places upon you. Your life is defined by the pen in God’s hand. And the same God who wrote Joseph’s redemption from the pit, who wrote Paul’s hymns in the dungeon, who wrote Christ’s resurrection from the tomb—He is writing your story too.

So what should you do? Trust Him. Play your part well. Believe that even now, in your hardest season, God is for you. Lean into His Word, which is the Author’s script for your life. And take courage—because the sovereign Author always finishes what He begins (Philippians 1:6).

Someday, when you see Him face to face, you’ll discover that every tear had meaning, every wandering had purpose, every chapter had value. Your sovereign story will close with joy, and your Author will welcome you home.

Reflection Questions

1. What does it mean to you personally that God bottles your tears?

2. How does knowing your life is a “sovereign story” change the way you see past failures or regrets?

3. Why is it important to believe not only that God is Author, but also that He is for you?

4. How might this psalm give hope to someone who feels their life has no direction or meaning?

5. In what ways can prisoners find encouragement in knowing that their suffering is not wasted?

6. What fears do you need to release to God, trusting that He holds the pen of your life?

7. How can you encourage another believer by reminding them of this truth?

   
   

Closing Prayer

Heavenly Father,


We thank You that our lives are sovereign stories written by Your loving hand.

We praise You that not one tear falls unnoticed, not one wandering goes uncounted, and not one moment of suffering is wasted.

Lord, we pray especially for those in prison today—men and women who feel forgotten, who wonder if their story has any meaning left.

Remind them that You are the Author, that You bottle every tear, and that their lives are precious in Your sight.

Give them courage to trust You with their past, faith to embrace Your promises in the present, and hope to believe in the glorious ending You have secured in Christ.

Make them fearless characters in Your story, witnesses of Your grace, and trophies of Your mercy. We ask this in the mighty name of Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith. Amen.

From: Fight the Good Fight of Faith / Life Journal: by Gregg Harris