Decades ago, as a young man just beginning theological studies, I wandered into a second-hand Christian bookshop near Chicago, nursing heartbreak over a relationship that seemed to be ending, and picked up a copy of Martyn Lloyd-Jones’s Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cure. The title seemed to speak to where I was. It became my introduction to Lloyd-Jones, whose writings I have returned to again and again ever since.
That book drove home a simple but life-changing truth: Christians need to preach the character of God to themselves rather than simply listening to themselves. Drawing on Psalms 42 and 43, Lloyd-Jones shows how the psalmist deliberately turns from his own feelings to address his own soul with truth.
Defining Sovereignty
The comfort of God’s sovereignty only makes sense when it is joined to his other attributes: wisdom, love, justice. Theology is not merely the study of God as an abstract fact; it is bringing that knowledge into a kind of logic that we can hold onto and apply. Sovereignty, rightly understood, is not just about rule and reign, but about how God reigns and why he allows what he allows.
For the Christian, this means something deeply personal: The one who controls all things is also our Father. He is wise. He is loving. Whatever is out of our control is not out of his.
Saturated with Sovereignty
Scripture is replete with references to divine sovereignty.
Psalms 42–43. David, taunted by his enemies and pressed by his own doubts (“Where is your God?”), does not simply sit in his despair. Instead he addresses himself directly: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God” (v. 11). The question is pointed—hope in whom? In the sovereign Lord.
Psalm 23. The Lord is described as shepherd—the one who makes his people lie down in green pastures, leads them beside still waters, and restores the soul. Even walking through the valley of the shadow of death, the psalmist can look to the sovereign Lord who loves and cares for him.
Colossians 1:16–17. “For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Everything exists for God and for his glory alone—a truth echoed in Psalm 115, which denounces the impotence of idols by contrast: “Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases” (Psalm 115:3).
Job. Perhaps the fullest biblical treatment of the theme is the book of Job. Job wrestles not so much with unanswered questions as with whether God is still his friend. Remarkably, God never actually answers Job’s specific questions. Instead, he reveals himself afresh through creation itself: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” (38:4). By the end, Job does not receive explanations; he receives a fresh sight of God, which is enough: “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes” (42:5–6).
Philippians 4:7–9. Peace guards the heart and mind not through information alone but through deliberate, disciplined thought—dwelling on what is true, honourable, just, and pure. This “whatever is true” is not merely whatever is true about the circumstance, but supremely whatever is true about God.
Louder than Truth
But as the pain intensifies, Job begins listening to his own feelings and to the poor counsel of his friends. This is the real danger for any sufferer: letting circumstances become the instructor in theology, rather than letting Scripture remind us of who God is.
Putting It Into Practice
This theology inevitably meets concrete life situations.
A hurtful email or accusation. Personally, I will not respond to an upsetting message for at least 24 hours. Hasty replies have almost always proved regrettable. In that waiting period, my goal is to consider whether there is a kernel of truth worth hearing, to remember that nothing has happened by accident, and to respond in a way that reflects God’s own character.
A difficult diagnosis. Rather than searching for blame, the response is to ask what God’s purpose might be—acknowledging that we may never know whether healing will come, while resting in the certainty that God is good and gives only good gifts, even through painful trials.
The loss of a child, or unbelieving children. Some time ago, a family in our church lost a son, and the father’s response at the funeral was remarkable. Through years, he quoted Job’s words without descending into stoicism or fatalism. Parents of children who have not yet come to faith should cling to God’s sovereignty in prayer, trusting that salvation belongs to him. Far from breeding passivity, this truth fuels perseverance in prayer and evangelism, since the outcome does not rest on human manipulation but on God’s gracious initiative.
A Caution on Timing
The Pattern of Scripture
The call, then, is not to explain away suffering but to keep returning to the character of the one who governs it, remembering his sovereign purpose to conform his people to the likeness of his Son, and trusting him even when, like the disciples crossing Galilee in the storm, the other side still seems far off.