Hello Darkness

Intro

Hey well good evening friends. My name is Ben Hein and I am the church planting pastor at Redeemer Presbyterian in Indianapolis. My family is new to Indiana, we actually just moved here in June. We previously lived in the DC Metro area, where I had worked as a software developer before I was a pastor. My wife was an engineer for the federal government. I wish she were here tonight because I’m sure many of you engineers would rather hear from her than from me.

We’ve long sensed the call to church planting, so when the Lord opened up this opportunity to come plant with Redeemer in Indy we fell in love with the city and the church and the thought of being a part of what God is doing here. So together with our two young boys, Felix, who is 4, and Kaius, who is 2, we came out in June and it has been a real joy for our family to be here.

So a little background on me and my wife; neither of us were really raised Christian. We both came to Christ as adults, my wife at the very end of her senior year in college, and I came to Christ when I was 23 a couple years after I graduated. So if you’re here tonight and you’re wrestling through what it means to be a Christian and you’re not really sure what you believe, I just want to say I get it, I’m glad you’re here, and I’d love to meet you after the service.

This is actually the first time I’ve stepped foot in a college ministry since my junior year in college, so just to date myself, that means its been 13, almost 14 years. I was invited to attend a college ministry service by a girl I liked, and, you know, I was willing to go just to spend time with her. I still remember sitting in this large auditorium with all these other students, and I was fine with the music, but when the message started I just about lost it. Everyone had their Bibles and a notebook out, and as the pastor was talking, I looked around and saw how everyone was drawn in, and they were taking notes on every word he said. I remember thinking to myself,

“This is a cult! Ya’ll are brainwashed. First you’re treating this book like every word in it is true, and then you’re listening to this guy like everything he says is right, that’s crazy. This must be a cult!”

Well, look at me now. They say God has a sense of humor, right?

So anyways, if you could take out your Bible and something to write with, that’d be great. This evening we’ll be looking at Psalm 88. Now some of you might know that Psalm 88 is unique, because out of all 150 Psalms, this is the only one with no redemptive or hopeful language. There are many lament psalms, nearly 60, of which Psalm 88 is one, and while the others go to some really low places, they all end with a note of hope. Not Psalm 88.

And I think that makes this Psalm a really important one for us to understand. Because sometimes our sufferings really are this difficult. Sometimes it is really hard to see any redemptive light in our darkness. And we need to know how to pray when life really is this hard, this sad. Psalm 88 is a gift to us, because in it, we see that God not only wants to know our heart, but gives us permission to give all of our sadness, our anger, our fears, and frustration to him.

Read Psalm

You may have noticed in the reading of the text that the word “dark” or “darkness” is mentioned three times – in verses 6, 12 and 18. In fact, “darkness” is the last word of the whole Psalm. And throughout the Scriptures, this word is often used to describe the place where travelers lose their way and criminals wait to attack them violently. I think if you could only describe this Psalm in one word, it would be “darkness.” So in keeping with that idea, I want to look at three things this Psalm can tell us about darkness: First, that darkness is a reality of life. Second, Darkness is a time for spiritual growth. Third, Darkness is not the end.

Darkness is a Reality of Life

This is an inescapable conclusion in this Psalm. Darkness, pain, and suffering are realities of life in our fallen world. We can observe in this Psalm that sometimes darkness comes from something that is external and circumstantial. It can also take the form of a deep inner turmoil, despair, or depression of the soul.

Look at what our Psalmist says. We don’t know what the exact circumstances were of our Psalmist, although from verses 4-8 it appears that he is close to death and that all of his friends have abandoned him. That’s his external darkness.

But he also speaks of his inner darkness. In verse 3, “my soul is full of troubles”, verse 14, “Why do you hide your face from me?”, verse 16, “Your wrath has swept over me.”

Darkness is his reality. And it can be ours too. And it can last for a really, really long time. Look at how persistent the Psalmist is: “I cry out night and day before you,” “Every day I call upon you,” “in the morning my prayer comes before you.” Despite his persistence, God does not appear to answer. The darkness does not lift.

You know, every major biblical character encounters some kind of significant darkness. I can’t think of one who makes it through their life without significant suffering, opposition, or duress of some kind.

One of my favorite stories is of the prophet Elijah in 1 Kings 18 and 19. If you can, make a note to go back and read these chapters this week. In this story, Elijah has this amazing and miraculous success against the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel. But immediately following this success, he is threatened by Queen Jezebel, and he spins into what can only be described as a deep depression. He becomes very irrational - he forgets that God has preserved a remnant of believers in Israel, and he now believes he’s the only faithful follower of God. He forgets about how God has displayed his mighty power just a few days earlier against the prophets of Baal. So what does he do? He wanders off into the wilderness alone, and prays to God that he might die.

If deep darkness was a reality for great leaders like Elijah, then it can certainly be a reality for us as well.

Isn’t this the uniform teaching of Scripture? All of the great figures of the Scriptures suffered, both from inner and outer darkness. We see this foremost in Jesus who suffered immensely, didn’t he? Was he not “the man of sorrows”? The Son of God, in the deeps of inward and outward trouble, when wave called unto wave, felt not those sweet influences of comfort from God which had always filled his soul formerly. If Christ’s cry is, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?", then surely we need not wonder when that is our cry, as if some strange thing is happening to us.

John Calvin, one of the great theologians of the Reformation, had strong words for Christians who deny the realities of darkness and sorrow in the Christian life. Here’s what he said:

“Now, among Christians there are also new Stoics, who count it depraved not only to groan and weep but also to be sad and care ridden. These [ideas] proceed, for the most part, from idle men who, exercising themselves more in speculation than in action, can do nothing but invent such [false ideas] for us.”

In other words, if you think that to be Christian means we won’t suffer under darkness, that sorrow, or depression, or anxiety won’t afflict us, then that’s a groundless thought. It’s speculation emerging from fantasies, not from a real engagement with the Bible or with life.

I want to tell you a little bit about when I first learned about the reality of darkness in this life. I had an older brother named Joe; he was several years older than me, but nevertheless he was an amazing older brother. He took our relationship seriously, intentionally pursuing me to spend time together. He would even take me on dates with him if he thought I would enjoy the activities he and his date were doing together. He was amazing.

Joe was the most selfless and caring person I’ve ever known. Everyone who knew him said the same thing. Not only did he give of his time and possessions to homeless persons, but he even went overseas to volunteer as a voting aid during the crisis in Bosnia in the late 90’s. He worked for a state senator on Capitol Hill in Washington D.C. He spent what little extra time he had trying to create special reading programs for students in low-income communities.

He was fun, charismatic, and incredibly good looking. He had a knack for making all of the ladies swoon.

In 2000, my brother tried to run for state representative in our home state of South Dakota. When his campaign failed, he entered into a depression that crushed him. 6 months later he took his own life.

Joe’s loss continues to be a darkness that hangs over my life. His loss has exposed me to all kinds of darkness: the darkness of losing a sibling, the darkness of deep despair, depression, and other mental health struggles, the darkness of grief and sadness in a fallen world.

I want to briefly draw out two quick reflections from my brother’s story as it relates to our text in front of us.

First, if you are currently experiencing darkness that leads to suicidal ideation or thoughts, please, I beg you, talk to someone. As a brother who lost a brother far too soon, please. A friend, a counselor on campus, a mental health professional. You don’t know me, but I offer myself to you. But please, find someone who can walk through your darkness with you.

Second, none of us are immune to darkness. Darkness will find each and every one of us sometime and somehow. It doesn’t matter if we’re rich or poor, charismatic or shy, popular or not, accomplished or not, educated or not, single or married; darkness is a reality of life. So when that darkness comes for us - and it will - we need to know that it is no strange thing, no accident, no surprise that hard things fall upon us. The Apostle Paul said in Acts 14 that it is only through many tribulations that we are able to enter the Kingdom of God.

Darkness is a reality of life. So the question is not, “Will suffering happen to me?” The better question is, “Where will I turn when suffering comes?” For many it will be various addictions to numb the pain of reality. For others it will be a relationship, which often crushes the other person under expectations they cannot possibly meet.

For the next several moments, Let’s consider what it might look like to turn to Jesus instead. What we learn, first, is how darkness is a time for spiritual growth. And I want to give a couple caveats before we jump in.

I want to be clear about my intention here. I am not at all trying to provide, like, a silver lining to our suffering. Ok? I’m not coming at this with an attitude like, “Yeah, your darkness sucks, but at least God will use it to grow you spiritually!” That’s not at all what I’m trying to say. Please don’t hear that. After all, isn’t it awful when people hit you with the “at least”? Man I hate that. Like you try to tell someone how bad your day has been and they say, “At least this other bad thing didn’t happen, it could be worse!” You try to tell someone about how depressed or anxious you’re feeling, and they say, “What do you have to be depressed about? At least you have a job, you’re at a good school, whats the problem?” The worse.

So, not my intention. And, furthermore, I’ll say this up front too. If you’re currently in a place of darkness right now, what I’m about to say might not be all that helpful. When we’re in deep suffering, really one of the last things we need is for someone to talk at us with theology. What we need in our darkness, whether it’s depression, or grief - is for others to minister to us, to comfort us, to meet our concrete needs in this moment. Consider Elijah again. He goes up into the wilderness, and it’s 40 days before God ever shows up and talks theology with Elijah. For the first 40 days he sends an angel to comfort him, give him food, give him rest.

This is actually something the Puritan Richard Baxter drew out in his great little book on Depression and Anxiety. He recognized, even hundreds of years ago, long before mental health and psychology was a thing, that those who are in deep depression and anxiety don’t need a bunch of Bible thrown at them. In fact, he says this is a harmful thing to do. Instead, he spends most of the book instructing friends and fellow Christians how to care for those in darkness, because what is more useful in our suffering is compassionate Christians ministering to us, not a bunch of Bible and theology getting thrown at us.

Now, nevertheless -caveats aside - I think it’s important for us to recognize that our seasons of darkness and suffering are an opportunity for spiritual growth. This is something that needs to be impressed on our heart even before the darkness hits, so that when it does, we can be somewhat grounded in the suffering we face.

When people think of Psalm 88, they typically characterize it by its ending. As we said earlier, this is the only lament psalm that does not end with some kind of redemptive or hopeful twist. So people take note of that ending and then will say, Psalm 88 is a psalm without any hope in it. I don’t think that’s true.

Look at verses 3-8 again. Is our psalmist in distress? Absolutely. His soul is full of troubles and he fears his life is drawing near to death. His companions have abandoned him. He is in deep dark regions.

But notice that even in this deep darkness, our psalmist is still crying out to God. Even in his seemingly insurmountable troubles, he knows that if anyone will hear him, if anyone will help him, it will be God. This is why he begs in verse 1 for the God of his salvation to hear him and answer his cries.

There’s a great book about the depression of Abraham Lincoln, written by Joshua Wolf Shenk. It’s called Lincoln’s Melancholy. At one point, as the author is discussing mental health in our present context, he says you know, anything other than constant cheer seems to be a violation of the American spirit.

As a result, Americans - even, or especially American Christians - we tend to be pretty naive about how God works in our darkness and suffering. So what do we do? We try to muscle our way through our darkness. We push it way down; we don’t talk about it. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t know how to, we don’t know how to express the hurt we feel. But when we turn to Jesus, he gives us his Word. And in this Word, we not only find language to help us express how we feel in our darkness, but we are also given precious promises to hold onto through our darkness.

This is something we see modeled in the Apostle Paul. Listen to this familiar passage from 2 Corinthians 12:

2 Corinthians 12:7–10 ESV

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Do you see it? Paul learned to take his darkness and his suffering to Jesus. And through His Word, Jesus showed Paul the precious promises that would take root and grow in him.

The civil rights activist and pastor John Perkins knows a thing or two about suffering. Not only did he live through the civil rights movement, but he’s experienced many other deep and personal sufferings. His mother died of starvation when he was only 7. His brother was murdered. His sister was murdered. Two of his sons died in young adulthood. Now, in his 90’s, he battles cancer. And yet, even through it all, here is what he says he has learned about suffering:

When I consider Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, and Christ on his cross, I am reminded of His care. I must somehow fit together in my mind the reality of my suffering with the truth that He loves me. My suffering is real. So is His love. He loves me. All of this helps me prepare my heart for when suffering chooses me.

Psalm 88 models for us the prayers of someone who knows that suffering is real, but so is God’s love. This is mature faith. We might think such prayers would be very pious, very religious, would downplay suffering and speak highly of God’s comfort and grace.

But Psalm 88 teaches us that sometimes our prayers are filled with great anger, bitterness, and frustration toward God. In fact, look at how he closes his prayers. “You have made my companions darkness.” Do you know what he’s saying? Darkness is a better friend then you are, God. Darkness is closer to me than you are. There’s no clean, nice, kind reverence to be found here. Just the brutal realities of life as our author turns and shouts at his God.

God’s love is big enough to handle our darkness, to handle all of our emotions as we pour out our hearts to him. Maybe today, your prayers might look like turning to God and saying, “You now what God? Darkness is a better friend to me than you.” That’s ok. That’s a good prayer. It’s the prayer of someone who knows that God’s character and his love are big enough to remain in our darkness, that he’s safe enough for us to pour out the entirety of our hearts.

Let me press this a bit deeper, and return to what I said earlier...

God promises to meet us there, in that space. And when he does, he shows us that our darkness is not the end. Darkness is not the end.

Look at verse 12. The Psalmist asks, “Are your wonders known in the darkness?” What the Psalmist is asking is, “What good am I if I’m dead? Can I praise you when I’m gone? Do the dead sing your praises?” The Psalmist is at the end of himself. And now, is prayer, at what feels like the end of all things is, “For the sake of your glory then, spare my life, that I might continue to declare your steadfast love.”

Once again, a bold prayer. And it’s coming from someone who knows that when it seems like our darkness is going to be the end, God will still meet us there.

I learned how to pray this way for the first time back in 2012 when I was starting my seminary studies. It’s a lesson I’ve learned again and again since then.

This was just a couple years after I became a Christian in 2010. I remember being so excited at the thought of beginning my studies and entering vocational ministry. I thought for sure that since I was “doing this for God”, everything would go exactly according to my plans.

But nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

First, I lost my church. I was working part-time at the church where I had become a Christian just 2 years prior. And when they found out I was becoming Reformed in my convictions, they asked me to resign and leave the church.

I was heartbroken. And then, just a couple weeks later, my full-time job where I worked as a software developer, they decided they wanted to switch my contract to working night hours. The thing is, all of my seminary classes were at night. When I told them I was taking night classes and couldn’t make the switch in my hours - they fired me.

So here I was , barely a Christian for 2 years, trying to start seminary now with no church and no job. It was a very painful and confusing time. The fear at times was so severe that I would wake up at night with panic attacks. The anxiety compounded my darkness and led to depression. My depression compounded the darkness further still, and I was so ashamed. I started to think, “Who is going to want a depressed and anxious pastor? Who is going to want me?” I was at the end of myself. I wanted to quit it all and just walk away.

But soon I learned to pray like the Psalmist in Psalm 88. And when I did, I found that God was with me in my suffering. He didn’t cause it to go away. He didn’t change my circumstance - not immediately. But he did provide the comfort and strength I needed. He taught me that my suffering was no strange thing.

And - I think - he started to turn me into the kind of friend who could be with others in their darkness.

Psalm 88 is not a hopeless prayer. It is the prayer of someone who knows that darkness is deep and real, but so is God’s love. This might seem like a paradox, but it’s a paradox that’s answered in Jesus.

In Mark 14, Jesus heads to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray before his death. He asked his friends, Peter, James, and John to keep watch and pray with him. He said to them in verse 34, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.”

But what happened? They fell asleep. And then, when the soldiers came, it says all of his disciples and friends left him and fled.

Jesus knows what it means to have a soul fulled with troubles. He knows what it means to have all of his companions abandon him. But this didn’t stop him from entering into the ultimate darkness in his death. Why would he do that?

So that you and I would know the depth of his love. So that we would know, no matter how deep our darkness, it’s not the end for us. Jesus overcame death and darkness, and now we can have full assurance that our darkness is not the end for us.

Darkness is real. Suffering is real. But it is not the end. The love of Christ is. He has gone ahead of us. Friends, look to him. If you have any questions about what that might look like, I would love to speak with you after the service.