That’s the feeling I get when I read this passage from Midrash Tehillim (a collection of interpretive commentaries on the Book of Psalms). It centers on David, King David, and the sting of betrayal.

Think about it: Ahithophel, once David's trusted advisor, has turned against him and is now counseling Absalom, David's rebellious son. And his advice is terrible.

The story, as recounted in 2 Samuel, tells us that Ahithophel proposes a swift, brutal attack: "Let me choose twelve thousand men and I will pursue David tonight. I will attack him while he is weary and weak." (2 Samuel 17:1-2). The Midrash Tehillim highlights how appealing this counsel was, how readily Absalom and the elders of Israel embraced it.

Can you imagine how that felt for David? To see his former confidant, wielding such influence, plotting his downfall?

The Midrash tells us that David became afraid, witnessing Ahithophel's sway over everyone. In his fear, David cries out to God. What does God say?

“Do not be afraid, I am with you. Cast your burden on the Lord and He will sustain you."

It’s a powerful message of reassurance. A promise that God is there, ready to shoulder the weight of David's worries. The Midrash goes on to say, "He has a love for flesh and blood and those who come to Him."

It's a reminder that even in moments of profound isolation, we're not truly alone.

But then, the Midrash takes a turn. It says that David prayed to God, and God answered him once. But the second and third time? Silence.

Ever felt that? You pour your heart out, expecting a response, a sign… and nothing. Crickets.

The text then offers a crucial distinction. “But God is not like that. As long as you persist in calling upon Him, He will answer you. Therefore, cast your burden upon the Lord and He will sustain you."

The takeaway? Don't give up. Persistence in prayer, persistent connection, matters. God isn’t a vending machine, dispensing answers on demand. It's about the ongoing relationship. It’s about the continued effort to connect, even when the heavens seem silent.

This Midrash on Psalm 55 isn’t just about King David’s troubles. It's about our own. It’s about those moments when we feel surrounded by bad advice, betrayed by those we trusted, and abandoned by the very source of our hope.

It reminds us to keep praying, keep connecting, keep casting our burdens on the One who ultimately sustains us. Because even in the darkest nights, hope, like a persistent prayer, can still find its way through.