10-29-2025 PART 1: A Table That Becomes a Snare—And a Church That Chooses Mercy

Section 1

David’s cry in Psalm 69 turns painfully personal: “Reproach has broken my heart… I looked for someone to take pity, but there was none.” The weight isn’t only circumstantial; it’s relational—like “bricks on your shoulders.” Repentance can be clear-eyed and corrective, yet sometimes it’s soaked in tears, and in those moments the absence of comforters wounds twice. The text lingers on this heaviness, not to indulge despair but to name it honestly: sometimes the godly suffer isolation even among their own. That frank admission prepares the heart for what comes next—an appeal to God and a charge to God’s people to embody the comfort we ourselves receive.

Section 2

From that ache, the teaching pivots to the church’s calling: failure demands accountability, but it does not erase prior faithfulness nor cancel future usefulness. Scripture’s roll call proves the point—Peter’s denial didn’t nullify his confession; Paul rebuked him, and he still led. John Mark deserted, then penned a Gospel. Moses murdered, then met God in the desert school of humility and was restored to lead. If we act as though one collapse voids every contribution, we contradict Hebrews’ assurance that God “does not forget” labor done for the saints. The world delights to discard; the church must not. Our reflex should be restoration with sobriety—firm on responsibility, fierce in mercy.

Section 3

So be the comforter David couldn’t find. When believers stumble, rushing to highlight their fall—sometimes with a secret “aha”—is itself sin. We are not at war with one another but with the “strongholds” that oppose God; our weapons are not carnal but mighty through Him. Mercy that helps the fallen rise does not excuse sin; it refuses to weaponize it. Even Stephen, under stones, prayed forgiveness. Let the family of Jesus be known for that kind of faithfulness—reliably safe shoulders, not broken-tooth support. David’s opponents in the psalm weren’t righteous; next comes the imprecation, “let their table become a snare.” Before we examine them, we must decide who we’ll be: people who trap, or people who tend and restore.