Series: N/A
Service: Praise and Preaching Service
Type: Sermon
Speaker: Dwayne Gandy
The First Step, the Last Step, and the Only Step
There is a tendency, when life gets complicated, to reach for complicated solutions. We strategize, we network, we grind, we worry — and sometimes all of that effort only serves to deepen the feeling that things are spinning out of control. What if the most powerful response to life's complexity is also its simplest? Not simple in the sense of easy, but simple in the sense of clear and singular. One answer. One step. Every time.
That answer, drawn from the life of David and the kings of the Old Testament, is this: seek God. The first step, the last step, and the only step — in every situation, in every season — is to seek God.
But before dismissing that as a Sunday school platitude, consider something important: the simplicity of the answer does not minimize the complexity of the problem.
David was not running from a metaphor. He was a young man being hunted by a king with a real army, carrying real weapons, with a genuine intent to kill him. Later in his life, it was his own son leading the revolt. These were real crises with real stakes. And yet, through it all, seeking God was David's instinctive, consistent, and unwavering response — not because the problems were small, but because he understood something profound about who God is.
A Thirst That Points to the Answer
Psalm 63 is believed to have been written in the wilderness — either during Saul's pursuit of the young David, or during the revolt of his son Absalom in his later years. Either way, it was written in one of the lowest moments of his life. And yet the opening lines pulse with longing, not despair:
"O God, You are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water."
Notice first what David does not say. He doesn't call God "Israel's God" or "the God of the covenant." He says: You are my God. The foundation of David's faith was a personal relationship with God that transcended circumstances, politics, and his own failures. Whatever was happening around him, that relationship was his anchor.
He describes his seeking as something urgent and daily — as early as the morning, as constant as thirst. Seeking God was not a crisis protocol for David. It was a way of life. He longed for God the way a man in a desert longs for water. Not casually. Not occasionally. Desperately and deeply, because he understood that God alone could satisfy.
And what drove that longing? David understood that God was worthy of being sought. "Your lovingkindness is better than life," he writes. "You have been my help." He had a track record with God. He had seen, over and over, that seeking God yielded something real. God had shown up. God had delivered. And so seeking God was not a leap in the dark — it was the most reasonable response to the most reliable truth David knew.
What Seeking God Actually Looks Like
Psalm 63 is more than a declaration of longing — it is also a roadmap. Scattered throughout the psalm are glimpses of what it practically looks like to seek God: "My lips shall praise You" (v. 3). "I will bless You while I live; I will lift up my hands in Your name" (v. 4). "My mouth shall praise You with joyful lips" (v. 5). "When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watches" (v. 6). "My soul follows close behind You" (v. 8).
Praise. Prayer. Remembrance. Meditation. Following close. These are the textures of a seeking life — not dramatic, not complicated, but consistent and intentional. Lifted hands in the ancient world signified empty hands — coming to God not with your own resources, but in acknowledgment that He is the only one who can truly help. Clean hands, empty hands, open hands. I need You. I trust You.
Seeking God is not the thing you do after you've exhausted every other option. It is the posture of a person who knows, from experience and conviction, that God is worthy and available.
In Every Season, the Same Answer
What makes David's seeking so striking is that it was not confined to crisis. Psalm 34 was written after a harrowing encounter with the Philistine king — David had to pretend to be insane to survive. In that terrifying aftermath, he writes: "I sought the Lord and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears." In crisis: seek God.
In 1 Chronicles 16, we find a different moment entirely — the triumphant day the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem. David was at the height of his glory. Everything was going right. And his response? He delivered a psalm of thanksgiving that centers on this command: "Seek the Lord and His strength; seek His face evermore." In triumph: seek God.
When David prepared his son Solomon to take the throne, what was his parting wisdom before discussing the temple blueprints, the administrative structures, the political alliances? "Know the God of your father, and serve Him with a loyal heart and with a willing mind... If you seek Him, He will be found by you; but if you forsake Him, He will cast you off forever." In transition: seek God first.
Psalm 14:2 captures it with striking contrast: "The Lord looks down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there are any who understand, who seek God." The fool says there is no God. The person of understanding seeks God. The contrast is not between the smart and the ignorant — it is between those who recognize where wisdom begins and those who don't.
The Pattern in the Kings
The histories of Israel's kings in 2 Chronicles read almost like a case study in this principle. The good kings sought God, and they prospered. The moment they stopped seeking Him, the prosperity ceased.
Asa tore down idols and trusted God in battle for over 45 years — decades of faithfulness and fruitfulness. Then, facing a military threat late in his reign, he sought help from a foreign king instead of from God. The fruit of a lifetime of seeking was not lost, but the protection of God withdrew. The principle held firm: seek Him and find Him; turn away and lose the covering.
Jehoshaphat, when surrounded by enemies that outnumbered him enormously, did not call for a military strategy meeting first. He called for prayer. His battle plan was simple: God, help. And God answered.
Uzziah prospered — the text says specifically — as long as he sought the Lord. When pride lifted his heart and he stopped, the prospering stopped with it.
Hezekiah, facing a terrifying letter of demands from the Assyrian king Sennacherib, took the letter to the temple and literally spread it out before God. "You deal with this. I need your help." God answered with one of the most dramatic military interventions in Israel's history.
Josiah, when the long-lost Book of the Law was discovered, didn't call his advisors first. His first instinct was: "Go inquire of the Lord for me." What does God say about this? That was always the first question.
The pattern is too consistent to miss. In adversity and abundance, in youth and old age, in personal crisis and national emergency — those who sought God found Him. Those who stopped seeking, found themselves alone in a way that no human resource could repair.
A Simple Answer to Complex Problems
There is an important distinction to hold on to: simple is not the same as easy.
Being thirsty in a desert is a life-threatening, complex emergency. But the answer to thirst is always the same simple thing: water. It might be nearly impossible to find. The situation might be desperate. But the answer has not changed and will not change. The simplicity of the solution does not minimize the severity of the problem.
So it is with life. The problems are real. The medical reports are terrifying. The broken relationships are painful. The financial crises are devastating. The spiritual dryness feels endless. The complexity of those realities is not being dismissed or minimized. But the answer — the first step, the last step, and the only step — is the same in every case: seek God.
What are you going to do when the diagnosis comes back bad? Seek God.
What are you going to do when it comes back clean? Seek God.
What are you going to do when the relationship fractures and nothing you try seems to heal it? Seek God.
What are you going to do when that same relationship flourishes and you're overwhelmed with gratitude? Seek God.
What are you going to do if the financial ground drops out from beneath you, the way it did for so many in 2008? Seek God.
What are you going to do when you look at your finances and you're genuinely surprised by how well things turned out? Seek God.
What are you going to do when you notice that you've been drifting — that the joy and the intimacy you once knew with God has quietly faded? Seek God. Start seeking Him again. That's the way back.
The Invitation Is Still Open
One of the clearest, most repeated promises woven through all of these passages is this: when you seek God, you will find Him. He is not hiding. He is not placing obstacles between Himself and the people who want to find Him. The seeking is met with presence. The longing is met with response.
David said it in Psalm 34: "I sought the Lord and He heard me."
David said it to Solomon in 1 Chronicles: "If you seek Him, He will be found by you."
The logic of the whole biblical witness runs in this direction: God is not a reluctant God. He is a God who wants to be found.
Whatever season you find yourself in — flourishing or barely surviving, spiritually full or spiritually empty — the invitation is the same. Begin there. Return there. Stay there.
The first step, the last step, and the only step: seek God.