Blessed Be the Lord Who Hears Me
Psalm 28:6 at the Centre of an Ordinary Week
“Blessed be the LORD, because he hath heard the voice of my supplications.”
(Psalm 28:6, KJV)
My initial take on this verse was simple: “Blessed are You, Abba, because You hear me and meet my needs.” But as the week progressed, this line has been stretching me and inviting me to look deeper, to notice the quiet places where God listens long before I ever see an answer.
A Man After God’s Own Heart, Formed in Hiddenness
Psalm 28:6 reminds me that blessing the Lord is not a reaction to perfect circumstances but the natural overflow of a heart that has learned to trust Him in obscurity. When I think about David, I’m struck again by how God called him “a man after His own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14) long before Goliath, long before the throne, long before anyone knew his name.
David’s heart was shaped:
- among sheep,
- with a harp,
- in fields where no one applauded,
- in moments where only God saw him.
That hidden history with God became the wellspring of every “Blessed be the LORD” that later rose from his lips. When David blesses God in Psalm 28:6, it isn’t about performance; it’s about recognition.
God heard him.
God saw him.
God answered him.
And perhaps that is the invitation for us too: to bless the Lord not only when the breakthrough comes, but because He has been listening all along, even in the quiet places where our hearts are formed.
My own supplications feel trivial compared to David’s, but I’m learning that if I bring the small things to God, I’ll trust Him with the big stuff too. Prayer builds our relationship.
Noticing My Thanks
This week, I’ve been practising something simple: noticing my gratitude and Blessing God for it.
‘Thankful that God hears me’.
My son’s football trial.
I had a whole plan for him to prepare. He… did not. The trial arrived right after the holiday period, and I managed only a quick prayer moments before it began. Afterwards, he sounded discouraged, “There were so many good players… they’re better than me.” I wasn’t hopeful either, but I encouraged him anyway because I genuinely believe he can make it.
And then, he succeeded.
God heard the rushed, imperfect prayer of a mother who meant to pray earlier but didn’t.
My daughter’s new job.
I’m thankful she’ll be out of the house during civilised hours, yes, for her productivity, but also for my peace. Her 3–5am kitchen adventures have tested my sanctification more than once. Yet I’m proud of her. She is formidable, and she’s taking steps forward.
Motivation for chores and admin.
A small mercy, but a real one.
A job where I don’t smoke all day and forgiveness for when I do.
Grace in the tension.
The dripping tap incident.
Late at night, I heard dripping. My son had left the tap running that morning. He denied it immediately, and I said, “I know you did. It was an accident. You shouldn’t deny it.”
He asked, “Why aren’t you mad?”
“Because you didn’t do it on purpose.”
Thankful that I didn’t lose my cool.
Thankful for the nudge to finally pick up the DIY tools that have been sitting by the bathroom for a month.
Thankful for Yeshua.
Reading Leviticus has reminded me how impossible atonement would be today if we still relied on animal sacrifices. There wouldn’t be enough pure animals on the planet to cover the mess we’ve made. Yet Yeshua, our perfect sacrifice, opened the way for me to speak to God directly, to ask for forgiveness, to be heard.
Even in angry driving moments.
The muttered insults. The guilt. The prayer: “Restrain my mouth, Abba.”
And the answer: silence.
A gentle training.
A reminder to pray before leaving the house.
How Can I Not Love Yeshua
Yeshua stands as the true and greater High Priest, the One who doesn’t just perform atonement but is the atonement. Israel’s priests entered an earthly sanctuary year after year with the blood of animals. Yeshua entered the real heavenly sanctuary once for all, offering His own perfect, sinless life.
His sacrifice doesn’t cover sin temporarily; it removes it.
It opens permanent access to God.
It anchors my confidence not in my performance but in His eternal priesthood.
How can I not love Him?
Speaking of Praying…
I don’t think of myself as much of a “pray-er.” I speak to God silently far more often than I take up the recognisable posture of prayer. But Scripture shows that prayer is far richer and more textured than we often realise.
Prayer includes:
- praise
- thanksgiving
- supplication
- intercession
- confession
- lament
- dedication
- imprecatory prayer
- blessing
- meditation
- worship
- spiritual warfare
- vows
A whole landscape of communion with God, wide enough to hold every season of the heart.
Even silent prayer has deep biblical roots.
Hannah’s lips moved, but no sound came. (1 Samuel 1:13)
Nehemiah prayed silently before a king. (Nehemiah 2:4)
The psalmists prayed in the language of meditation and heart‑speech.
When Yeshua taught His disciples to pray, He distilled the deep structure of Jewish prayer into a few unforgettable lines. The Lord’s Prayer is the Amidah in miniature, a rhythm of blessing, dependence, and trust.
Prayer is not performance.
It is posture.
A heart turned toward God.
An Invitation to Reflect
To help you reflect on your own prayer life, I’ve gathered these different forms into a simple prayer self-scan to sit with. You can download it below and sit with it at your own pace. As you explore them, notice which ones feel natural to you, which ones you rarely step into, and which ones God might be inviting you to explore in this season.
- Which forms feel natural to you
- Which ones do you rarely step into
- Which ones might God be inviting you to explore in this season
Blessed Be the Lord
Psalm 28:6 sits at the centre of all of this, my week, my frustrations, my gratitude, my silent prayers, my parenting, my failures, my small victories, my longing to grow.
Blessed be the Lord, because He hears the voice of my supplications.
Not because I prayed perfectly.
Not because I always remembered to pray early.
Not because my needs are grand or heroic.
But because He listens.
He sees.
He answers.
And in every quiet, ordinary place, the places no one else notices. He is forming my heart to trust Him.
The Eleven One 
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