Meditation on Psalm 70: Deliverance from the Legion Within

“In you, O Lord, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame.

In your justice rescue me, free me: pay heed to me and save me.” (Psalm 70:1–2, Grail Translation)

When the psalmist cries for deliverance, it is not only from visible enemies but from the unseen legions that besiege the heart. These spirits, the logismoi, come clothed as thoughts, suggestions, subtle reasonings, and inner storms. They whisper of fear, comparison, self-pity, or despair. They stir the still waters of the soul until prayer feels impossible and the presence of God distant.

Yet Psalm 70 becomes a weapon in this hidden warfare. It is the cry of the one who refuses to surrender the heart to agitation. “Be a rock where I can take refuge, a mighty stronghold to save me.” The demons strike hardest where faith falters, where trust in the Rock wavers. But each repetition of the psalm’s plea, rescue me, save me, deliver me, becomes a blow against them, a declaration that my life is not in their power but in God’s hands.

There is no neutrality in this battle. The mind is a field of conflict where the grace of God and the cunning of the demons contend for dominion. Yet the psalm teaches us to flee not into our own strength but into the refuge of God Himself. The enemy seeks to scatter the thoughts outward, to fragment the heart, but the Lord gathers them inward again through His Name.

When the demons once entered the swine and were driven into the sea, it was a sign that evil cannot endure the presence of Christ. So too, when His Name is invoked with faith, the sea of grace swallows up the legion that assaults the soul. Prayer becomes the drowning place of the demons.

“From my mother’s womb you have been my help, my hope has always been in you.”

Even before I could name You, Lord, You have been the One who stood guard over the hidden temple of my heart. Now, when the shadows close in, when every thought becomes a tempest, I remember that You alone are my deliverer.

Let the legions rage and whisper. Let them throw up their waves of confusion. My prayer shall rise from the depths:

O Lord, hasten to help me. Let them be put to shame who seek my soul.

You alone are my refuge, my fortress, my God in whom I trust.

 And when the storm subsides, only silence remains; the silence of victory not my own, but of the mercy that has triumphed over the legion within.