HIS STORY WAS filled with trouble from childhood onward. His mother, for example, died of tuberculosis just before he turned seven. As a young man, he was forced into naval service. When he tried unsuccessfully to desert, he was flogged and humiliated in front of the crew. He entertained thoughts of revenge: perhaps he could murder the captain then jump overboard? But eventually he transferred to another ship — a ship that bartered goods for African slaves.

He never fit in with that crew either. They abandoned him in West Africa, leaving him in the hands of a slave trader. For three years, he was abused and treated much as a slave himself before being rescued by a merchant ship captain who had been hired by his father to find him. On the voyage home, however, not far from land, the ship was engulfed in a terrible storm and in danger of sinking. Fearing for his life, he did what others might have done in that desperate situation: he begged God to save him. Miraculously, the storm subsided, and the ship made it safely to port.

Grateful for this act of divine mercy, he began reading the Bible and studying Christian doctrine. Although he immediately vowed to be a better man, he remained involved in the slave trade for several more years. Over time, however, he became a minister, and later a strong and widely read public advocate for the abolition of slavery.

In 1772, more than twenty years after God had rescued him from the storm, he sat down to prepare his New Year’s sermon. That’s when, at the age of 47, John Newton penned these beloved words, words that would later be set to music and sung by millions through the succeeding centuries: “Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound) that sav’d a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”

NEWTON’S STORY OF trouble and divine rescue springs to mind when I read Psalm 107. Indeed, I can easily picture him preaching on this psalm and weaving in his own experiences, especially when he comes to these words:

Some went out on the sea in ships;
    they were merchants on the mighty waters.
They saw the works of the LORD,
    his wonderful deeds in the deep.
For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
    that lifted high the waves.
They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
    in their peril their courage melted away.
They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
    they were at their wits’ end.
Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
    and he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper;
    the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
    and he guided them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love
    and his wonderful deeds for mankind.
Let them exalt him in the assembly of the people
    and praise him in the council of the elders. (Ps 107:23-32, NIV)

Most of the stories we know by and about the ancient Israelites take place on land or even in the desert — but there were Jewish mariners. As the late Jewish historian Raphael Patai wrote, “there existed in ancient days a well based Jewish seafaring trade … [T]here were Jewish shipowners, captains, sailors and crews who were not only keen seaman experienced in all the dangers, pains, excitements and pleasures of seafaring, but [who also had] a deep personal affection for the sea.”

Thus, while some Old Testament texts portray the sea as a dark and foreboding place, the psalmist may be describing seagoing Jewish merchants who saw it as a place of wonder. But even the most experienced of sailors can be terrorized by a violent storm. The psalmist’s description is vivid, picturesque. The wretched crew members stagger like drunkards on deck, unable to keep their footing on the madly pitching boat. One can almost feel the ship rushing upward and cresting a mountainous wave. For a moment, everything seems suspended in space…before the vessel plunges perilously down the other side.

All courage and bravado are gone; there is nothing they can do to save themselves. Nothing — except cry out in helpless terror to God. And, hope against hope, God hears and answers. The howling storm becomes a mere whisper. The waves grow smooth and calm, and the ship sails gently into harbor.

How should the people respond? Obviously, they should give thanks to God for his mercy. But as verse 2 of the psalm suggests, the redeemed should also tell their story to the people and its leaders. Even today, when we as God’s people suffer our own storms, we need to hear stories of his amazing grace, and hear them in community so we can worship.

Note, however, that while these may begin as stories of what God did, their point is to show who God is: a God of hesed, a God of mercy, a God of abundant lovingkindness.

Not every prayer for help, after all, will be answered in the same miraculous way. Any storm of any strength can seem endless when we’re going through it. But some storms, in fact, never quite let up. Some ships sink. The psalmist’s words are not to be read as a promise of salvation from every trouble but as a tribute to God’s character. That is what unites psalms of both praise and lament: a faith in who God is, even when it’s unclear what God is doing or why our prayers haven’t been answered the way we had hoped.

And as we’ll see, the psalm also teaches that God shows mercy even to those who have no right or reason to expect it.