Dealing with Dark Days - Midweek Message 13th January 2020
We had just driven home after a wonderfully happy Christmas
Day with some of our family. (Our government allowed us to mix on that one day,
but we had to drive home that evening ready for the next spell of tight COVID
restrictions.) As I was sorting things out at home, tears welled up in my eyes.
Why? After all, it had been a lovely day, full of family harmony and joy.
Well, to the naturally dark days (for us in the northern
hemisphere) and grey, wet weather (of which we’ve had plenty) was added the
sadnesses of COVID restrictions, the misery of social distancing, the
disruption of church, and the uncertainties about when we could next see
precious family or friends.
There is nothing particularly special about my sadness. But
it prompted me to ponder what spiritual disciplines would be beneficial to me,
and to others experiencing the darkness.
I hang them on five words.
1. Lament
Lament focuses on three truths: the character of God,
the truth about myself, and the sadness that lies at the root of all our
sorrows.
There is all the difference in the world between shedding
tears and pouring out “tears to God” (Job 16:20). For
when I weep in the presence of God, I do so before the face of infinite love,
unerring wisdom, unchanging faithfulness, and unfailing kindness; before the
Father who sent his Son to save me; before the Son who loved me and gave
himself for me; in the power of the Spirit who pours love into my heart.
Weeping can feel lonely; weeping to God never is.
But biblical lament (for example, in the Psalms or the songs
of Lamentations) also presses me to remember who I am as the mourner. By nature,
I am a rebel in a world under sin. And yet in Christ I am not merely fallen but
justified—a sinner for whom there is no condemnation, a sinner whose sins are
borne by the death of the Lord Jesus.
When I weep in the presence of God, I do so before the
face of infinite love, unerring wisdom, unchanging faithfulness, and unfailing
kindness.
So why, in Christ, must I grieve? Perhaps Romans 8:17 puts
it most crisply: “We suffer with Christ in order that we may also be glorified
with him.” In this world, we expect to suffer. Whether in sickness,
frustration, bereavement, and weakness, or—for so many—in persecution of one
kind or another, suffering ought not to surprise us. But it is wonderful to
remember that we do not suffer alone. Our sorrows bring us into fellowship with
Christ.
2. Thank
Once when I was feeling quite low and rather full of
self-pity, a friend wrote me a letter telling me how helpful he’d found
the discipline of daily thanksgiving. Rather than rebuking my bad attitude, he listed
some of blessings for which he gave thanks and implicitly commended the
practice to me. I have never forgotten his kindness or his counsel.
Thanksgiving coexists in the life of faith with lament, as
we so often see in the Psalms. It pervades the prayers of the apostle Paul. Not
to give thanks is one of the foundational markers of idolatry in Romans 1:21. It
seems clear from the Scriptures that thanksgiving is not a discipline simply
for when I feel thankful, but a discipline for dark days as well.
Thanksgiving is not a discipline simply for when I
feel thankful, but a discipline for dark days as well.
And so I am stirring my soul afresh to give thanks to God.
From him flows every spiritual blessing (Eph. 1:3)—all that
we possess in Jesus so that, in the words of a
wonderful song, “there is no more for heaven now to give.” Having given
Jesus, God has given me all I need for life and godliness.
This then stirs me to make my thanksgiving more particular
as I explore God’s providential ordering in my life, working all things for the
honour of Jesus and for my good.
3. Rejoice
Following thanksgiving is the discipline of rejoicing.
Again, this often coexists with tears in the paradox of the life of faith
(“sorrowful, yet always rejoicing,” 2 Cor. 6:10).
I need to allow myself to be reminded, to be stirred, to be warmed afresh by
the truths I know about God my Saviour—the truths heralded and proclaimed to me
in the gospel of the Lord Jesus.
I need to allow myself to be reminded, to be stirred,
to be warmed afresh by the truths I know about God my Saviour.
I don’t want to be afraid to be refreshed. I have been
pondering that strange exhortation in the letter of Jude: “Keep yourselves in
the love of God” (Jude
21). Or, to paraphrase: Go on and on and on being loved by God! Let
yourself be loved. Don’t wander from being loved. It is a strange exhortation,
but it is necessary because my natural tendency is precisely and madly to
wander away—whether into a legalistic misery of desperate activism, or a vain
search for happiness away from God, or a belief that his law is repressive and
crushing.
4. Intercede
Recently, I preached 2
Corinthians 8:9 and was struck by the flow of divine grace: Jesus
became poor to give us riches, which then moves us to pour ourselves out for
others so they too may become rich. When Paul describes his own ministry
as “poor, yet making many rich” (2 Cor. 6:10),
it sounds remarkably like the pattern of his Master. Our present darkness can
turn us in upon ourselves (at least, it does for me), but the gospel of Jesus
enriches us and turns us outward.
For me this means a renewed discipline of intercession for
others. I suspect that most authentic service toward others has its roots in
intercessory prayer for them. Praying for others keeps us from destructive
introspection and self-pity.
5. Obey
Finally, as I have struggled on some dark days to get out of
bed and get going on the day’s tasks, it’s been helpful to remind myself that,
as long as there is life, there are good works prepared for us to walk in (Eph. 2:10). So
often I think this is “the obedience of faith” (Rom. 1:5): simple
obedience that believes God has set the good works before us and that trusts
him to give strength for what he calls me to today.
And so often it is starting that is the key. For where there
is a beginning, there can be a continuing, until at the end I may look back at
a day well spent, however little I think I have achieved.
***
Christopher Ash is writer-in-residence at
Tyndale House in Cambridge, England. He has written numerous books,
including Psalms
for You, Teaching Psalms (vols 1 and 2)
and Bible
Delight.
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