Sometimes trouble hits out of nowhere–uncalled for, undeserved–plunging our world into darkness.

Cancer. Stroke. Mental illness. Injury. Divorce.  Financial loss. Death.

Our illusion of safety shatters. Chaos, not a loving God, seems to be in charge. It feels like everything is spinning out of control and that God has either left town or decided he hates you. 

How do we respond in these dark moments? Many people have taken comfort in the soothing imagery of the 23rd Psalm (“The Lord is my Shepherd”), but in the midst of severe afflictions, the ominous phrase about “the valley of the shadow of death” can feel far more real than the peaceful pastures.

During a difficult time several years ago, I was praying one morning when I felt the Holy Spirit distinctly urge me to read Psalm 23 “in the dark”: imagining it all taking place in darkness instead of daylight. I was a bit bemused at the idea, but decided to give it a try.

And so I began:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures …

Stop. Lights out.

In an instant, I go from being a sheep contentedly drowsing in the soft, deep grass of a sunny pasture, my Shepherd lingering nearby, to being swallowed by darkness, only able to see a few feet in any direction. The grass fades from green to sickly grey. Predators could be creeping up on me and I’d never see them. Worst of all, my  Shepherd has become lost amidst all the strange and menacing shadows of the night.

It’s the exact same pasture as before, but my inability to see changes everything.  Can I trust that my Shepherd is still near?

He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

Walking in the dark, I have no way of knowing that I’m safe, near the calm water I need to slake my thirst. Instead, in my fear-charged anxiety, it’s easy to imagine that my next step might plunge me into deep rapids to drown, or off a cliff to my death. I’m being led by the Shepherd’s voice, but I still can’t see him, and I don’t know where he’s taking me. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

Ah, here it is; the big test. This is where my fears reach a crescendo. Death is on every side, the sounds and smells of wolves and blood assail me. I’m blind, helpless, with only one resource: faith in the unseen Shepherd who urges me to keep walking toward his voice.

I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

But in this most dreadful of times and places, there finally comes at least a hint of hope: the thud of a thick rod followed by the sharp yelp of a wolf being crippled, then the soft, unexpected touch of a staff along my side, gently pressing me back onto a smooth path. In the darkness, these small evidences of the Shepherd’s tender care are reassuring. I find my faith rising. Even in the dark.

That’s where the sheep/shepherd imagery ends in Psalm 23, but the idea of the godly sometimes having to walk trustingly in darkness is repeated in Isaiah:

Who among you fears the Lord
    and obeys the voice of his servant?
Let him who walks in darkness
    and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
    and rely on his God. (Is 50:10)

If you are struggling through a time of darkness and anxiety, take heart. You are in good company among the saints, and you can trust the Shepherd who sees clearly in the dark. Fix your mind on what you know of this Shepherd rather than what you fear in your chaotic situation.

“…we are under pressure from every side, but not crushed; bewildered, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not abandoned; knocked down but not knocked out.” (The Apostle Paul, 2 Cor 4:8-9)

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.” (The Apostle Peter, 1 Peter 4:12-13)

“…even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.” (Psalm 139:12)

 

© 2017 Deborah Morris

 ^“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”  (1 Cor 9:24-25)

A few days ago I was reading the familiar story in Luke 4 (1) about Jesus being led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil, and as usual, I found the whole thing disturbing. Phrases like “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil” (2) and “led like a lamb to the slaughter” (3) jostled each other uneasily in my mind, seeming  contradictory.

Why would God lead Jesus into the wilderness where temptation had snares waiting for him? Why lead his beloved Son into a siege situation? And why does it feel sometimes like he does that to us?

Although the Bible assures us that God doesn’t tempt anyone (4), he did deliberately put Jesus in harm’s way in the wilderness.  Less than 3 years later Jesus would be led like a lamb to the slaughter. Were these “extra” trials in the meantime really necessary?

God thought so.

We don’t know–the Bible doesn’t tell us–all the temptations that assailed Jesus over his 40-day fast.  It didn’t begin or end with the innocent sounding suggestion to satisfy his hunger by creating bread, something Jesus would later do on two separate occasions to feed thousands of other people. (5) In itself, the act of turning stones into bread wasn’t even a sin! But Jesus only did what he saw his Father doing. (6)

He had to be thin and extremely weak by the end of his fast, slow in body and mind. It was in this humbled state that he was then led by the devil up to a high place to be tempted with the offer of “all [earthly] authority and splendor”. The thought had to be as enticing in that moment as warm bread would be to his shrunken stomach.

Again, the Father specifically permitted this temptation. Again, Jesus resisted.

Finally (in Luke’s narrative) the devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. Unaccountably, the Father allowed the devil to lead and direct Jesus in all these ways. And here’s where something important finally dawned on me.

Jesus, physically weak and wobbly, was standing high on the temple wall where a strong gust of wind could probably blow him off. His Father allowed the devil to put him in this dangerous position in his weakest state, not his strongest. He didn’t prepare Jesus for the onslaught of temptation by pampering him, getting him well-rested and nurtured, making him feel alert and ready. He did the exact opposite. He deconstructed all natural/earthly comforts and stays, leaving Jesus hanging out there in weakness.

Which was exactly what was needed. Like Paul, he could boast in his weakness because God’s power was perfected in his weakness. (7) And he was trained–exercised and strengthened–through this suffering to prepare him to endure the cross.

“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.” (Heb 5:8-9)

If we misread the trials God permits to come into our lives and mistake them for punishment or rejection, we largely waste the value of the training.  We are Olympians, building our spiritual “muscle memory” so we can respond naturally and gracefully in faith to whatever befalls us.

^“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.” (James 1:12).

© 2016 Deborah Morris

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1. Luke 4:1-14
2. Matthew 6:13
3. Isaiah 53:7
4. James 1:13-14
5. Matthew 16:8-10
6. John 5:19-20
7. 2 Corinthians 12:9

For the mother who, despite her joyful anticipation, lost her beloved baby during pregnancy,

For the mother who, despite her tender care, lost her beloved child to injury, illness or evil,

For the aspiring mother who, despite her fervent hopes and prayers, could never quite get pregnant,

For the griefstricken mother who, in a time of despair, aborted her baby and later regretted it,

For the motherless woman who, far too early, lost a beloved mother (or worse yet never really had one)…

Mother’s Day isn’t always happy. But take heart, and be at peace:

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  (John 16:33)

© 2015 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?

I found this tech company’s ad both startling and thought-provoking. Several verses crashed in my head as I looked at it:

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame.” (Heb 12:2)

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” (Mt 13:45)

Contrast that with the story of the rich young ruler urged by Jesus to sell all he had, give the money to the poor, and come follow him. (Mt 19:16-22) Instead of responding in joy to an invitation to walk closely with the Lord of Life, the young man went away “sorrowing”.

Our lives should be marked by joy, even in our sufferings. Even in our sacrifices. There IS joy ahead.

© 2015 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?

This morning I was thinking about a friend who has suffered deeply over her lifetime from words being hurled at her like knives or stones, leaving gashes and bruises on her soul.

And I was thinking how even in the Church we sometimes try to heal a wounded heart with cheap words (“God won’t give you more than you can handle!”), nice to hear but about as sustaining as potato chips.

Jesus didn’t do that. He often sidestepped obvious issues–and sometimes even direct questions!–to speak to people’s hearts. The crowd seeking Jesus in Capernaum (Jn 6)… the rich young ruler (Mt 19)…. the adulterous woman (Jn 8)… they all got very different responses than they expected. Words made alive by the Holy Spirit had, and have, the power to heal and transform lives.

The people in our lives need more from us than potato chip words. May it be our constant prayer that our lips will be wellsprings of life to those around us.

“To humans belong the plans of the heart, but from the Lord comes the proper answer of the tongue.” (Prov 16:1)

© 2014 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?