"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever." — Revelations 21:4 (NLT)
I have tasted the depths of the deepest despair, plumbed the depths of the deepest sorrow, where numbness become your friend.
In the deepest, darkest depths of your despair, you must grasp at the light; don’t grapple with the dark, it will take you deeper. Seek the light.
It may only seem like a solitary star in the expanse of the darkest night, and at times it twinkles, and fades, and almost disappears. And at times, it does; it disappears from sight. Like a lighthouse light that shines around and around; as it turns, it disappears for a while, but then returns as it seeks you out with its piercing light shining towards you.
The forlorn hope of happiness is what keeps you from sinking into the depths of despair; and as you tread water, just keeping your head above the water, you welcome the cold, the numbness of nothingness.
You wish you could stop, let go, let God take you to a better place, let yourself sink into the abyss, into the deep. But somehow, you can’t. You can’t let go. And you can’t clamber out. It’s not just muddy water you’re treating to keep afloat, it’s the mud and the mire and the slime and the shame of a messed-up life. It sucks you in, it holds you tight; there’s no escape.
So, you just watch the light; you watch as it goes past, mesmerised, wishing you could just somehow catch hold of it, grasp it tight so that it pulls you out as it shines past. You grasp at it, straining to see it more clearly, as if it could somehow carry you out and just take you to a better place, a happy place.
But, alas, you cannot grasp the light, much the same as you cannot catch the wind, or the mist, or the fog. And somehow, fleeting rays of sunshine are more occasional than the rain on your parade.
Because rain it will. You reach a place where you become comfortable in your discomfort; the cold and the numbness become your unwelcome friend, your normality. And you kind of think, “This, actually, isn’t so bad after all. I can do this.”
And then it rains. Sometimes a shower; at times torrential. And then the storm. The thunder and lightning, and the seas are raging. And still, you tread water, and somehow keep from sinking.
And then, as the storm subsides, you see it. Feint at first, and then it gets brighter and brighter. The rainbow of hope. The storm remains, but you just know; wherever there’s a rainbow, beyond the skies are sunny.
And you smile. For a fleeting moment, on the inside if not the out, you smile, and your heart jumps a beat. Maybe, just maybe, you will see the sun again, and it won’t be just another lighthouse but the bright shining sun itself to dry up all that’s around you. The mud and the mire, the slime and the shame just dried up, caked up, so you can climb out into newness of life in the sunshine of everything that is good.
But not just yet. The rainbow fades, the sun is spent, and the clouds return as normality and numbness reigns.
In the deepest, darkest depths of your despair, you must grasp at the light. Don’t grapple with the dark, it will take you deeper. Seek the light.
And remember the rainbow; don’t ever forget the rainbow, the rainbow of hope that says that one day, one day, there will be no more sorrow, but there will be sunshine again.
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
Revelations 21:4 (NLT)
I don’t know who that’s for; I don’t know who needs to hear it. It has been my journey, and by sharing it I hope that it helps someone else to realise: it’s OK not to be OK.
May we pray. Heavenly Father, You know where I am right now, and I’m in the dark. Please help me stop grappling with the dark and help me grasp at the light. Thank You for your rainbow, Your rainbow of hope; and when we’re struggling, please show us Your rainbow of Hope. We ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.
If you feel that you are in the dark right now, we would like us to pray for you – please get in touch. Don’t feel as though you have to grasp for the light on your own. May God Bless You, and we hope to see you soon.
Have you had your copy of ‘DARE to Hope!’ yet? You can download it here.