Faith in Focus #40
A reflection from Connection Church and other spiritual events from the week
Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.
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Sermon Reflection
Psalm 22 doesn’t ask us to pretend suffering is painless. It teaches us to bring our pain honestly before God, then breathe deeply of the gospel that points us to Jesus.
Based on the sermon by Noel Heikkinen, Connection Church Sioux Falls, August 9, 2026.
The Psalm That Gives Suffering a Voice
This week, Connection Church welcomed a familiar voice back to the pulpit. Noel Heikkinen, Lead Pastor of Riverview Church in Lansing, Michigan, has preached at Connection before, and judging by this sermon, I hope it won’t be his last visit.
As part of our Summer in the Psalms series, Noel took us into Psalm 22 with a sermon titled “Exhaling Pain, Inhaling Grace.”
It was an appropriate title for a Psalm that refuses to hide the reality of suffering.
Before getting into the passage, Noel shared a Psalm reading plan I had never encountered. Read five Psalms each day by taking the day of the month and adding 30 to it. On the first day, that means Psalms 1, 31, 61, 91, and 121. On the second day, Psalms 2, 32, 62, 92, and 122.
By the end of the month, you’ll have worked through all 150 Psalms. The beauty of the plan isn’t simply that you finish the Psalms. It’s that somewhere along the way, a Psalm will meet you.
That’s one of the remarkable things about the Psalms. They give language to experiences we sometimes can’t articulate ourselves. Joy, fear, anger, gratitude, confusion, confidence, grief and hope all find a place within them.
The Psalms speak for us.
And sometimes they say the thing we desperately need to hear.
The World Behind the Text
Psalm 22 begins in anguish.
David asks why God seems distant and why his cries appear unanswered. Psalm 22:1, ESV
This shows us that Biblical faith doesn’t ask us to hide, minimize, or clean up our suffering.
There’s a temptation, especially among Christians, to believe that expressing pain is somehow evidence of weak faith. We can feel pressure to skip immediately to the happy ending. We know God is sovereign. We know Jesus saves. We know resurrection is coming.
All of that is true.
But Psalm 22 reminds us that knowing those truths doesn’t mean we stop hurting. David doesn’t hide his suffering from God. He brings it directly to God.
And then something even more significant happens when we read Psalm 22 through the lens of the gospel.
The New Testament repeatedly connects the language of Psalm 22 with the crucifixion of Jesus. Jesus Himself cries out the opening words of the Psalm from the cross in Matthew 27:46.
The Psalm begins with abandonment and anguish, but it doesn’t end there. It eventually moves toward confidence, praise and proclamation among the nations.
The Christian doesn’t look at suffering and say, “This is fine.”
The Christian looks at suffering and says, “This is not the end.”
Walking the Passage
Psalm 22 is intense from the opening line.
David feels forgotten. He describes enemies surrounding him. He feels mocked, physically broken and utterly overwhelmed. The language is visceral because suffering is visceral.
Then we reach verses 16 through 18.
The imagery becomes strikingly specific. The Psalm describes enemies surrounding the sufferer, physical affliction, and the dividing of garments by casting lots. Those details find a remarkable correspondence in the crucifixion narrative. Matthew 27 describes Jesus being mocked, crucified and having His garments divided by casting lots.
This is where the gospel changes how we read Psalm 22.
Without the gospel, the imagery can feel strange and disconnected. With the gospel, we see the suffering servant of the Psalm pointing us toward the suffering Savior.
But there’s an important distinction here.
Psalm 22 was written as a Davidic Psalm of suffering. We shouldn’t flatten David’s original experience and pretend he was simply writing a detailed screenplay of the crucifixion. The Psalm speaks honestly about David’s suffering in its own historical setting.
At the same time, the New Testament teaches us to see Christ in the Scriptures. Jesus is the greater Davidic King, and the crucifixion brings the Psalm’s suffering imagery into breathtaking focus.
That’s not proof texting. It’s reading Scripture the way the New Testament teaches us to read it.
Jesus didn’t merely experience suffering in some generic sense.
He entered into it.
He was mocked. He was rejected. He was crucified.
And He did it for us.
A Fair Counter-Reading
There’s a danger in reading every difficult Old Testament passage as though its only meaning is a prediction of Jesus. Psalm 22 should first be respected as a real prayer from a real sufferer.
David’s pain wasn’t imaginary. His enemies weren’t theoretical. His anguish wasn’t merely an illustration.
That should shape how we approach our own suffering. We don’t have to pretend that pain is less painful because we know how the story ends.
But neither should we stop at David.
The New Testament explicitly places Psalm 22 alongside Jesus’ crucifixion. Matthew’s account gives us the mocking, the crucifixion and the division of Jesus’ garments.
The result isn’t that David’s suffering becomes irrelevant.
It’s that Christ enters the story as the One who suffers perfectly and ultimately.
The Turn
This is where Noel’s image of breathing becomes so helpful.
We need to exhale the emotional garbage that weighs us down. Not because our emotions are garbage. The garbage is what suffering can cause us to carry when we refuse to bring it to God. Bitterness. Fear. Anger. Shame. Resentment. Despair. The endless mental replay of everything that went wrong.
Psalm 22 gives us permission to exhale.
Tell God you’re hurting. Tell Him you’re confused.
Tell Him you’re angry. Tell Him you feel forgotten.
Then inhale gospel truth.
God hasn’t abandoned His people. Jesus knows suffering firsthand.
The cross wasn’t an accident.
The resurrection means suffering doesn’t get the final word.
Even Jesus’ cry of abandonment in Matthew 27 is connected directly to Psalm 22. Matthew 27:46, ESV
The gospel doesn’t tell us that everything will immediately feel okay. It tells us that Jesus is enough even when everything around us isn’t.
Noel ended with a statement that I don’t think I will forget. Jesus makes everything okay, but our definition of okay is broken.
Maybe that’s the deeper lesson. We often define “okay” as comfort.
God defines it through Christ.
We want the pain removed.
God gives us a Savior who entered the pain.
We want circumstances fixed.
God gives us Himself.
We want answers.
God gives us Jesus.
And perhaps that’s why the Psalm eventually turns outward toward praise and proclamation. The sufferer who has encountered God’s faithfulness doesn’t keep it to himself.
The gospel changes what comes out of us because it changes what we breathe in.
Carry It Into the Week
If Psalm 22 teaches us anything, it’s that suffering should move us toward God, not away from Him.
So this week, pay attention to what you’re carrying.
What are you holding inside because you’re afraid to say it out loud?
What pain have you decided you simply need to “get over”?
What fear keeps replaying in your mind?
Exhale it.
Bring it to God. Then replace the noise with gospel truth.
Remind yourself who Jesus is.
Remind yourself what He accomplished.
Remind yourself that the cross was not defeat.
Remind yourself that resurrection is real.
And then let that truth move outward.
Because when the gospel becomes real to us, we can’t help but talk about it.
There’s sometimes a fear that we will become annoying Christians if we talk about Jesus too much. We worry about what people will think. We worry about being rejected. We worry about making someone uncomfortable.
But our calling isn’t to make everyone comfortable.
Our calling is to faithfully declare the truth.
That includes something as ordinary as Sunday morning worship.
When we sing, we’re not simply creating a personal emotional experience. We’re glorifying God together. We’re proclaiming truth. We’re showing the people around us what we believe about the God who saved us.
Connection Church describes its Sunday gatherings as a place where the church family worships Jesus, sings praise, hears God’s Word and is transformed by the gospel.
So sing.
Even when you don’t feel like it.
Sing when life is good.
Sing when life hurts.
Sing because God is worthy.
Sing because someone beside you may need to hear the truth you’re proclaiming.
And when suffering comes, remember how to breathe.
Exhale the pain.
Inhale the gospel.
Look to Jesus.
Song of the Week: My Everything - Lecrae
I’m not the biggest hip hop fan anymore, but artists like Lecrae keep drawing me back to the genre and give me a reason to dip my toe back into it. “My Everything,” released just this year, is one of those songs. We could spend days talking about the lyrical content found in the two verses, but for me, the heart of the song is found in the hook, “Lord of the highest, I can’t deny it, you are everything, everything to me.”
I continuously pray that those words would become more than just lyrics I sing along to. I want them to become truth in my heart. I want to genuinely be able to say that Jesus is everything to me, not simply when life is going well, but when things are difficult, uncertain, frustrating, or painful. Jesus gave everything for me. He willingly went to the cross, took the punishment I deserved, and conquered death so that I could have new life in Him. If He was willing to give everything for me, then my desire should be to make Him everything in my life.
And yet, I know how often I fall short of that. Time and time again, the world snakes its way back into my thoughts, my desires, and my actions. Things that I know cannot satisfy me still manage to grab my attention. Comfort, entertainment, success, recognition, and countless other distractions can slowly take the place that belongs to Christ. Sometimes I don’t even notice it happening until I realize that my attention has drifted away from the One I claim is everything to me.
That’s where the gospel changes everything. My failures don’t get the final word. My past doesn’t define my future. Because of Christ, there’s forgiveness when I repent and turn back to Him. The sins I’ve committed aren’t something I have to carry forever as though I’m permanently disqualified. Christ has already paid the price.
And the future isn’t something I have to fear either. As Paul reminds us, because of Christ, our labor is not in vain, and because of His resurrection, death itself does not get the final victory. My hope isn’t found in becoming perfect on my own. My hope is found in becoming more like Christ as I continue to surrender my life to Him.
So that chorus becomes more than a catchy hook to me. It becomes a prayer, “Lord, make Yourself everything to me. Take the places where I am still holding on to the world and help me let go. Take my thoughts, my desires, my work, my relationships, my successes, my failures, and my future. Let You be at the center of all of it.”
I may stumble. I may fall. I may find myself distracted by the things of this world again and again. But the gospel reminds me that my story doesn’t end with my failures. My past can be redeemed, my present can be surrendered, and my future is secure in Christ. Jesus gave everything for me. My prayer is that, more and more each day, I would be able to honestly say that He is everything to me.
Week in Reflection
The week started off with some news regarding our Shovel or Shuttle project at Connection Church. Jonathan advised that, while getting bids for the parking lot, our initial goal of $375,000 has now turned into $425,000. That’s quite a jump, and honestly, it can be easy to look at a number like that and wonder how we’re going to get there. But at the same time, I think it’s important to step back and look at what God has already done.
In less than a year, our church family has raised $270,000 toward this project. That’s an incredible amount of money, especially when you consider that this isn’t simply a construction project. We aren’t raising money just to have a bigger or nicer parking lot. We’re trying to create more space for people to come through our doors and, ultimately, hear about Jesus. A parking lot may seem like a mundane thing when compared to the eternal significance of the Gospel, but even something as simple as providing a place for someone to park can be part of removing barriers that keep people from entering a church.
It’s been amazing to watch our congregation rally around this vision. We still have a long way to go, but I don’t want to lose sight of how far God has already brought us. I pray that we will continue to be generous, not because we’re trying to hit some financial goal, but because we recognize that everything we have ultimately belongs to God anyway. I also pray that God continues to bless Connection Church and uses this project for His purposes. This church has become a home for me, and I’m thankful for the people, the leadership, and the opportunity to serve alongside others who want to see the name of Jesus proclaimed.
That desire to see Jesus proclaimed has also been something the Spirit has been pressing on my own heart this week. I’ve really felt convicted to be more bold when it comes to talking about Jesus. Not just writing about Him or talking about Him with other Christians, but actually taking opportunities to share my faith with people who may not know Him.
One of those opportunities came during a travel gig for my photography business. I stopped for breakfast and had a waitress serving me, and while I didn’t outright start a conversation with her about Jesus, I did something that, for me, felt like a significant step. When I signed the receipt, I wrote, “Jesus Loves You.”
Was that a huge evangelistic conversation? No. Did I explain the Gospel? No. Did I even know how she would respond when she saw it? No.
But it felt good to take that step.
Sometimes I think we can become so focused on doing something big for God that we overlook the little opportunities He puts directly in front of us. Maybe that message on a receipt will mean nothing to her. Maybe she’ll throw it away without giving it another thought. But maybe she needed that reminder that day. Maybe she’s been struggling. Maybe she’s been questioning whether God sees her. I don’t know what God might choose to do with something as simple as those three words, but I do know that I want to become more willing to take those opportunities when they come.
And perhaps that’s what God is teaching me right now. Boldness doesn’t always begin with standing in front of a crowd and preaching. Sometimes it begins with simply being willing to say something.
At the same time, this week has also reminded me that spiritual growth doesn’t mean I suddenly stop struggling with sin. In fact, it can almost feel frustrating to experience such closeness to God, to feel so encouraged in my faith, and then turn around and fail again in the same areas.
I know what I need to do. I need to flee.
The problem is that “flee” is much easier to say than it is to actually do when temptation arrives. In the moment, sin can still feel appealing, even when I know exactly where it leads. I know that whatever satisfaction it promises is temporary. I know it will never fulfill me. And yet, I still find myself falling into the same traps.
That doesn’t make the failure any less painful, but it does remind me that I can’t fight sin by simply relying on my own strength. I need Christ. I need His Word. I need prayer. I need to recognize the escape routes He provides instead of convincing myself that temptation is too strong to resist.
I’m thankful that God doesn’t abandon me when I fail. His grace doesn’t give me permission to continue in sin, but it gives me the ability to repent and get back up when I do. I pray that my repentance would be genuine and that my heart would continue to grow in its desire for Him. I pray that when temptation comes, I would recognize the ways He provides for me to flee instead of ignoring them.
This week has been a mixture of encouragement and conviction. I’ve seen God moving through my church, watched people give generously toward a vision bigger than themselves, felt the Spirit pushing me toward greater boldness, and yet I’ve also been reminded of just how much I still need Jesus.
Maybe that’s the point.
The goal isn’t for me to become good enough that I no longer need Him. The goal is to become more aware of just how much I need Him every single day. I want to be more generous, more bold, more obedient, and more willing to flee from sin. But above all, I want those things to flow from a heart that is becoming more in love with Jesus.
So I’ll keep taking the small steps. I’ll keep looking for the opportunities God puts in front of me. I’ll keep repenting when I fail. And I’ll keep trusting that the God who has already brought me this far will continue to lead me where He wants me to go.
And always remember, God loves you, and so do I.
Connection Church in Sioux Falls is a gospel-centered community committed to helping people follow Jesus through authentic relationships, biblical teaching, and everyday mission. Rooted in historic Christian belief and aligned with gospel renewal movements, the church exists to see lives transformed by Jesus. Learn more: https://siouxfallsconnection.com/who-we-are
