Introduction

Some nights feel noisier than others. The worries keep whispering, the clock keeps ticking, and our hearts keep wondering if morning will ever come. Have you been there? You grab your phone, scroll a few old photos, and a smile slips in where sighs used to sit. Memory does that. Memory can be a warm blanket on a cold soul, a faithful friend tapping us on the shoulder and saying, “Don’t forget what you’ve already seen.” God often uses memory like a lighthouse—steady and sure—when the waves are wild.

Psalm 77 introduces us to a singer named Asaph, a person with a pulse like ours, who knew long nights and thin hope. He wrestled with fear. He raised hard questions. Then, like a child reaching for a father’s hand in the dark, he made a choice. He turned his heart toward what God had done. He let yesterday’s wonders speak courage into today’s worries. He remembered.

And not just with a quick glance. He lingered over the stories—Red Sea rescues, wilderness bread, water from the rock. He let those memories become medicine. He looked at God’s track record and let it tell the truth about God’s heart. If the Lord did it then, why would He stop now? If He split seas and stilled storms, will He not meet you in your midnight? This is not nostalgia; it’s nourishment. It’s faith feeding on facts—God’s faithfulness is not fragile, and His power is not past tense.

I think of the precious words of E.M. Bounds, who spent his life reminding people that prayer is not a last resort. He wrote, “God shapes the world by prayer. The more praying there is in the world the better the world will be.” That line hums with hope. Prayer is not a performance; it’s a place—where the Almighty meets our ordinary, where remembrance grows into expectancy, and where expectancy takes brave steps. When we pray, we do what Asaph did: we talk to the God who has acted and will act again.

Listen to Asaph’s declaration: Psalm 77:11 (KJV): “I will remember the works of the LORD: surely I will remember thy wonders of old.”

There it is—steady as sunrise. “I will remember.” Not “I might,” not “I’ll try if I feel like it.” This is a holy habit of the heart. Memory, expectancy, and faith all walk hand in hand. When we remember His mighty deeds, courage returns. When we expect His wonders today, hope breathes. When we walk in faith that invites His power, we find our feet moving, even when feelings lag behind.

Can you picture it in your own life? The time God sent a note of encouragement at the exact hour you needed it. The phone call that came like a cup of cool water. The diagnosis softened by surprising peace. The bill paid from a source you didn’t see coming. The child who finally slept through the night. The bitter word you held back when grace took the wheel. Little mercies and large miracles—each one a marker on your trail, each one a reminder that God has not left the building and your prayers are not pointless.

Maybe you’re staring at an unmovable mountain today. Say the words with Asaph: “I will remember.” Name a few of the wonders you’ve seen. Write them down. Tell them to a friend. Sing them in the car. Let gratitude gather. Watch how memory loosens the knot in your chest. Watch how praise freshens the air in the room. This isn’t mind over matter; it’s God over everything. His resume brims with rescue. His promises carry weight. His love has never had an expiration date.

So here’s where we’re headed as we open our hearts to Psalm 77:11: we will remember His mighty deeds, we will expect His wonders today, and we will walk in faith that invites His power. These are not slogans; they’re steps. Small steps, maybe, but strong ones. Faith-filled footsteps leave deep prints on the path of ordinary days. And as we take them, we’ll discover that God meets us kindly, carries us wisely, and works among us powerfully.

Before we continue, let’s ask our Father to do what He loves to do—strengthen His people, steady our thoughts, and stir our faith.

Opening Prayer: Father, we thank You for Your unchanging faithfulness. You have carried us through storms we remember and storms we never even saw forming. Today, by Your Spirit, awaken our memories and make them clear. Help us recall Your mighty deeds—not as distant headlines, but as present help. Plant holy expectancy in our hearts. Where fear has been loud, let Your promises be louder. Where weariness has weighed us down, lift our heads with hope. Lord Jesus, speak peace to our anxious places. Remind us that Your hands still heal, Your words still calm, and Your light still wins over the darkest night. Teach us to walk by faith in practical ways—praying bold prayers, taking obedient steps, and trusting Your timing. Make our minds attentive, our hearts tender, and our wills ready. Holy Spirit, fill this moment with Your nearness. Let Scripture be sweet to our souls. Let remembrance become praise, let praise become confidence, and let confidence become action for Your glory and our good. We ask all of this in the strong and saving name of Jesus. Amen.

Remember His mighty deeds

The psalm gives us a command with a promise inside it. Remember. The focus is on the works of the Lord. The line is personal and steady. “I will.” That is the voice of a heart that has decided how to think. The mind does not drift to this on its own. It learns this rhythm. It sets its attention on what God has done and keeps it there long enough for truth to take hold. This is more than a mood. It is a practice. It is a way of seeing the present with the light of God’s past actions shining on it.

Think about how often you already use reminders. You set alarms. You circle dates. You repeat names so you do not forget them. You can treat God’s works the same way. Set a time in your day when you speak a short list of His deeds. Use simple sentences. Say them out loud in prayer. Say them again. Put a short phrase on a sticky note by the sink. Put a verse on the lock screen of your phone. Build a small ritual before meals where you recall one gift from the last week. Shape the start of your day with thanksgiving. Close your day with review. In this way, “I will remember” stops being a wish and becomes a habit.

This remembering also needs focus. The verse does not point us to our own greatness. It points us to God’s works. So feed your mind with those works. Keep your Bible open. Read slowly. Read with names and places alive in your mind. Trace how God speaks, moves, rescues, guides, and keeps promises. Do this even when feelings are low. Over time, the feelings catch up to what the mind holds.

The word “wonders of old” opens a storehouse. It reaches far back, and it still matters today. Think of the first pages of Scripture. God speaks, and light appears. Seas and sky and land form by His command. He shapes humans from dust and breathes life. He sets a pattern of rest. He blesses. That is a work. That is a wonder. The Maker is not far from what He has made.

Think of Abraham and Sarah. Years passed. Hopes thinned. Yet a child was born to a couple who had waited beyond all human timelines. That birth was a work of God. It carried a promise that would bless all families on earth. Remember that when your calendar feels heavy and late.

Think of Joseph in prison. Plans broken. Dreams buried. Then a door opened in a day. A forgotten man was lifted to serve in a palace. He forgave his brothers and fed a region in famine. The Lord turned what was meant for harm into help for many. That is a wonder of old. Keep it near when your story stalls.

Think of Jericho’s walls. They did not fall by human force. They fell after days of steady steps and simple obedience. Trumpets sounded. Stones fell. God showed that His power is not tied to our size. When you face something that towers over you, let that picture stand in your mind.

Think of Hannah, who poured out her grief. A child came, and a prophet grew. Think of Daniel in a den. He slept where no one sleeps. Morning came, and he walked out whole. Think of three friends who stood firm. Flames rose, yet they were kept. Remember Esther in a palace. Quiet courage stood in a doorway, and a people were saved. Each story echoes the verse. The Lord works. He works in time, in danger, in weakness, and in places where no one expects help to arrive.

Then move forward to the center of our faith. The Son of God took on flesh. He healed with a word. He called sinners by name. He bore a cross. He rose on the third day. He showed His hands. He ascended. The Spirit was poured out. Hearts became new. The church took root in cities and fields and homes. These are the largest works. These are the wonders of old for the whole world. Keep them bright in your thoughts. Speak them when you pray. Let them shape what you think is possible.

When we keep these works in view, we learn who God is. His actions teach His character. He creates. He keeps covenant. He judges evil. He lifts the lowly. He provides in dry places. He defends His people. He hears cries. He fulfills His word in detail. His power is not fragile. His wisdom is steady. His compassion bends low. His holiness is pure and good. Each remembered work is a window into His heart.

This is why memory heals foggy thinking about God. Hard days can blur the picture. Accusing thoughts can rise. Old fears can sound like truth. Then we remember how God actually moved in history. We take in a record that does not shift with mood. Faith does not feed on guesses. It feeds on what God has done. When you say, “You split a city’s walls” or “You shut the mouths of lions,” you are not guessing. You are repeating a record. That record clears the air in the mind.

This also teaches us how God works with time. He may move in a moment. He may unfold a plan through years. He rarely explains the full plan ahead of time. Yet the pattern shows care, patience, and precision. Remembering keeps us from rushing Him. It also keeps us from giving up. The clock matters to us. The outcome matters to Him. The old stories show that both can meet in grace.

Memory shapes our identity. We are not people adrift. We belong to a God with a history of action. We stand in a line of witnesses who told and retold what He did. Israel sang these works in feast days and family tables. The early church gathered to break bread and remember a cross and an empty tomb. When you recall these works, you take your place in that living stream. You let your mind be trained by what the saints have always said.

So make room for this in the ordinary flow of your week. Tie remembering to things you already do. Say a brief recounting when you lace your shoes. Pause at the front door and thank Him for two ways He helped yesterday. Teach your children one story at bedtime and ask them to repeat one detail the next night. Use the Lord’s Supper with fresh attention. Whisper, “You did this for me.” In a small group, take the first minutes to recount a work from Scripture before you speak of your own week. Build small cairns of memory in your routines so that your heart keeps seeing where God has walked.

Let your prayers start with old works before you name new needs. This is what many of God’s people did in Scripture. They began by saying who He is and what He has done. They rehearsed His mighty acts, then they asked. You can do the same. Begin with creation. Move to the cross. Mention a story that fits your current fear. Then ask with a steady voice. You are standing on ground that has held many before you.

Notice how this kind of remembering affects speech. Worry tends to run the mouth. But when you recount God’s works, the words change. Gratitude grows. Confidence grows. Humility grows. You find it easier to say, “Your will be done,” because you have just traced a record of wise care. You find it easier to say, “Help me,” because you have just seen how He loves to help.

This is also how we counsel our own souls. The psalmist speaks to himself. He tells his soul what to do. You can do this. When your thoughts fray, speak to your own heart. Say, “He has acted. He will act.” Then name the acts. Hold them in front of your eyes and ears. This is not pretending. This is remembering.

Bring others into it. Memory grows stronger when shared. Ask a friend to tell you one work of God that anchors them this week. Tell your family one story from the Bible during a walk. Gather your team at work and open a meeting by saying a short word of thanks for an answer to prayer from last month. Do this in simple words. Do it often. You are training a group memory.

Finally, let these remembered works lift your requests. The verse does not close our mouths. It opens them. If God has acted with power and love, then asking is sane. When you are facing a need, take time to recall a parallel scene in Scripture. Facing danger? Think of how He guarded His servant in the lions’ den. Facing decisions? Think of how He gave wisdom to Solomon. Facing lack? Think of the jars that did not run dry in a widow’s house. Facing a threat too big for you? Think of the day King Jehoshaphat stood, named what God had done, and asked for help. Use the old wonders as lines in your prayers. Let the past give shape to the words you bring today.

As you keep this practice, your memory becomes a meeting place with God. The mind gathers His deeds. The heart answers with trust. The will takes small, simple steps. Over time, peace grows. Hope steadies. Courage rises. The psalm teaches this way, and it works in regular homes and regular weeks. Keep saying it. Keep filling it with content from Scripture. Keep turning these works into worship and requests. God has acted. He will not forget His people.

Expect His wonders today

The word that glows in Psalm 77:11 is this: wonders ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO