A Song Book For The Soul's Dark Night

A Songbook for the Soul's Dark Night

Introduction:

We are no strangers to the feeling of waiting. We know what it's like to be stuck in traffic, looking at the clock, inching forward, wondering, "How long is this going to take?" We know the sound of the city, the constant roar of jeepneys and tricycles, the noise of construction, the buzz of millions of lives lived in close quarters. Yet, in the midst of all this noise, it is possible to experience a silence that is more deafening than any sound. It is the silence of God.

Have you ever been there? In that place where your prayers seem to hit a ceiling and fall back to the ground, unanswered? In that season of life so dark, so confusing, so painful, that you look up to the heavens, and the only words your soul can form are, "Lord, how long?" How long must I wait for the results of this medical test? How long will I be an OFW, separated by miles of ocean from my children who are growing up without me? How long must our family struggle to make ends meet, with prices rising every day? How long until this sorrow, this heavy blanket of grief, finally lifts from my heart? How long, O Lord, will You feel so distant, so quiet, when I need You most?

If these questions echo in the chambers of your heart, I want you to know that you are not alone, and your faith is not broken. In fact, you are standing on holy ground. The Bible, in its perfect and divine honesty, gives us a songbook for the soul's dark night. It gives us the Psalms. And today, we look at a short but profound song from David, Psalm 13.

This Psalm is a divine lifeline. It shows us that God doesn't expect us to pretend we're okay when we're not. He provides a sacred path for us to follow when we feel lost in the dark. It is a journey in three movements: from the raw cry of complaint, to the courageous pivot of prayer, and finally, to the defiant choice of praise. It is the journey that God invites every one of us to take, from "How long?" to "I will sing." Let us read again the first two verses, and I want you to feel the weight of every word.

1 How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?

2 How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? how long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?

I. The Cry of a Troubled Soul (vv. 1-2): Permission to be Honest

Listen to that. It's not a single question, but a rapid-fire succession of them, a drumbeat of despair. Four times, David cries, "How long?"

He begins with the deepest fear of the human heart: the fear of being forgotten by God. "How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever?" It's the feeling of a child who was holding his mother's hand in a crowded mall, and suddenly looks up to find she is gone. The panic, the terror-it's not just about being alone, it's about being left behind, forgotten. David's pain is so prolonged that his sense of time is distorted. A long season of suffering feels like an eternity.

Then, the pain deepens. He feels God is hiding His face. In our relationships, what is more painful than an argument? The silent treatment. When someone you love refuses to look at you, to speak to you that withdrawal is a profound pain. For a Hebrew, the blessing of God was for His face to shine upon you. So for God to hide His face was to feel the loss of His love, His favor, His very presence.

And where does David turn in this perceived absence of God? He turns inward. "How long shall I take counsel in my soul...?" He's trapped in the echo chamber of his own mind. It's that 3 AM committee meeting in your head, where Fear has the loudest voice, Doubt raises a point of order, and Anxiety tables a motion to panic. When we try to navigate the confusing side-streets of our sorrow with only our own thoughts as a guide, we don't find a way out. We just go in circles, and the result is what David describes: "having sorrow in my heart daily." It's a relentless, grinding sadness.

Finally, he feels the crushing weight of his enemy. "How long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?" For David, this was likely a physical enemy like King Saul. For us, our enemy may be a sickness that won't go away. It may be a financial debt that looms over our family. It may be an addiction we can't seem to break. It may be the internal voice of depression that whispers lies, saying, "You are worthless. God has abandoned you. Your struggle is proof that your faith is a failure."