0
Back to Articles
Written by: Kate Powell
“Fret not yourselves because of evildoers.” —Psalm 37:1
David begins this Psalm by acknowledging that there is a presence of evil in this world. But David is not just saying evil exists; he is acknowledging that people can do evil.
And when you experience evil or see evil being done, it can stir something inside of you.
David says not to fret because of evildoers. The Hebrew word translated “fret” means “to burn,” “to become hot,” or “to be furious.” It describes an intense emotional response.
David knows people have the capacity to do evil, and he knows there is a temptation to become heated, angry, and consumed by what they have done.
That is why he gives this warning: “Do not fret (or become furious) because of evildoers.”
And that brings me to Dr. Anthony Fauci.
Dr Fauci is a longtime American physician and infectious disease expert who became the most prominent and controversial public health figures during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Whether you believe Fauci should be held accountable for his actions during COVID-19 or that the campaign against him has become politically motivated, one thing is undeniable: the debate is far from over.
At a recent Senate hearing, Fauci repeatedly invoked his Fifth Amendment right and declined to answer questions on the advice of his attorneys.
The Fifth Amendment gives a person the right not to be compelled to testify against himself. Invoking that right is not, by itself, proof of guilt. But watching the hearing, I found myself thinking about something bigger than the legal argument surrounding Fauci.
What happens when we believe someone has done wrong and has something to answer for?
We want answers. We want explanations. We want accountability. And when someone refuses to answer, we can become even more determined to build the case.
The arguments continue. Evidence is still being presented. Competing narratives about the pandemic and its origins are still being argued.
Meanwhile, social media has become its own courtroom, with people flooding the internet with opinions, accusations, and plenty of hate. People are fretting. They are hot, agitated, and consumed by what they believe others have done.
So, what does Psalm 37:1 ask of you?
Don’t let someone else’s wrongdoing consume you. You can be right about what they did and still allow their wrongdoing to produce something sinful in you. You can care about justice without becoming consumed with someone’s punishment.
Have you become so consumed with someone else’s wrongdoing that you forgot God is the Judge? There is a difference between pursuing justice and needing to be the one who vindicates it. God cares about truth—but He also cares about truth inside of you.
But if you are not supposed to fret, what do you do with all that anger and injustice?
That’s where David takes you next.
“Commit your way to the LORD; trust in Him; and He will act.” —Psalm 37:5
Commit. What exactly does it mean to commit my way to the Lord?
The Hebrew word David uses is gōl, from the root galal, meaning “to roll” or “roll away.” The picture is essentially this:
Roll your way upon the LORD.
That’s very different from how I usually think about commitment. I tend to think: Commit = decide. Commit = devote. Commit = entrust.
But David gives you a more physical picture: taking the weight of your way and rolling it onto someone else.
And what are you rolling?
Your anger. Your circumstances. Your future. Your reputation. Your unanswered questions. The things you don’t understand.
Then David says: “Trust in Him…”
Trust the character of the Lord. Trust that the Lord isn’t surprised by the evil that was done. Trust that the Lord sees you and sees the injustice.
And then, “he will act.”
Not: You will figure it out. Not: You will make them pay. Not: You will make sure everyone knows the truth.
He will act.
It’s one thing to watch injustice from a distance. It’s another thing when you believe the injustice happened to you or someone you love.
And this is where Psalm 37 became personal for me.
I watched my husband experience what I believed was an injustice at his last job.
He wasn’t treated with respect despite performing at a high level, and then he was let go without warning, explanation, or severance.
Now our family has been forced into a very difficult financial situation. From my perspective, he was wronged. And I was hot. Red hot.
I replayed the situation. I thought about what should have happened. I investigated taking legal action because the “accused crime” didn’t seem to fit the “punishment.” I spent time and emotional energy trying to somehow make things right.
I fretted. I was stuck in the courtroom. I was playing judge and jury.
Maybe God wasn’t asking me to decide whether what happened was right or wrong. Maybe He was asking me: “Will you trust Me with it?”
Could I believe God saw what I saw? Could I believe He knew what I didn’t know? Could I pursue what was right without allowing anger to take over my heart?
Could I really believe our Father has my family’s best interests in mind and will take care of us—even if we are wronged?
Could I trust Him with what I could not fix? That became much harder than simply saying, “God, this is unfair. Do You see this? Please fix this.”
Could I roll it onto Him?
Because committing my way to the Lord meant surrendering not only the situation, but my desire to control the verdict.
So, what does Psalm 37:5 ask of you?
First, roll it onto Him.
Stop carrying what God never asked you to carry.
Your circumstances. Your unanswered questions. Your reputation. Your need to understand why something happened.
Roll your way onto Him.
Second, trust Him with it.
Trust doesn’t mean you stop caring about what is right. You can pursue appropriate accountability. You can speak truth. You can protect people from harm.
But you don’t have to make the outcome your responsibility.
And third, let Him act.
You don’t have to manipulate the outcome, prove your case, or make someone pay.
“He will act.”
Psalm 37:7 says:
“Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him…”
Be still. Wait patiently. That isn’t passive. It’s trust. It’s saying, “God, I don’t have to carry this anymore.” The Apostle Paul takes it further:
“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God…” —Romans 12:19
God isn’t asking you to stop pursuing truth or seeking accountability. He is asking you to remember: You are not the Judge. You can pursue justice without carrying the burden of being the judge, jury, and executioner.
You can open your hands and say: “God, this case belongs to You.”
This is where living in the overflow becomes critical.
You don’t get to choose when the hits come. You don’t get to choose when you’re misunderstood, treated unfairly, disappointed, financially squeezed, attacked online, or confronted with something you desperately want God to make right.
But you can choose what is filling you before the hit comes. If you are filled with anger, anger will overflow. If you are filled with fear, fear will overflow.
But when you’re learning to live in the overflow of God’s love for you—in His presence, His truth, His peace, and His trustworthiness—you can respond differently when life hits hard.
Living in the overflow means that when the hits come, you don’t have to scramble to manufacture a godly response. What has been filling you can begin to overflow.
Maybe the goal isn’t to get out of the courtroom because you no longer care about justice. Maybe the goal is to get out of the courtroom because you finally trust the Judge.
So, are you pursuing justice—or have you become addicted to the courtroom?
Because sometimes the most faithful thing you can do isn’t pick up another piece of evidence.
Maybe the most faithful thing you can do is to put down the gavel, open your hands, and trust the Judge.
Because He sees what you see—and what you don’t.
You can roll it unto Him, trust Him with it, and let Him act.
