Abide
“Abide with me:
fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens;
Lord, with me abide:
When other helpers
Fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless,
O abide with me…”-Henry Francis Lyte
“In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade…”-Theodore Roethke, “In a Dark Time”
Stunned out of our early morning sleep, we watched as our windows shook with the forces of nature, pelted by hail up to the size of golf and tennis balls. As storm and darkness receded, townsfolk assessed the wake of the damage. While we can be grateful that it was too early in the season for farm crops to be devastated, there is nary a house that is not in need of new shingles or outlying buildings in need of repair. On a larger scale, the catastrophic devastation of Hurricane Helene in September of 2024 displaced over 12,000 people. The task of clean up and rebuilding under these overwhelming circumstances can just feel so dark and depressing. These seasons can abruptly pull us out of our norms, and reconstruction takes investment and time.
There have been other seasons in my life where I have been like Sazed in The Hero of Ages, where I am carrying the emotional burdens of others around me to the degree that I find myself encountering compassion fatigue. Sazed “worried, sometimes, about his melancholy. Unfortunately, much of the time, he had trouble summoning even the effort to care about his own pessimist bent” (Brandon Sanderson, p.99). But I want to cast my eyes of faith on the One who can pull me out of this leaden fatigue. I want to “Cast [my] anchor of faith even in the dark (Richard Sibbes, in Joy & Strength, p.325).
How does one adjust to this type of interminable darkness? Is there any light to be found on the paths strewn with such difficulties? We are left groping about in a dark place, just inching along in life as we try to figure out how to package our grief and disappointment, how to mentally organize it so that we can function at a healthy level. Or are we left to adjust to the darkness and grope about, inching along in life as we try to figure out how to package our grief and disappointment, how to mentally organize it so that we can function at a healthy level?
First off, we need to remember that it is but a season. Seasons change. In The Three Mile Valley, Dan Herod assures us the trials we face now are not forever. “God has given us the ability to shape the way we see ourselves in our world” (p.62), and even simple declarations can help us function at a healthy level amid melancholy or trauma. I am enough or this will all work out in the end can cheer us on toward the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. John 8:12 reminds us that “He who follows me will never walk in darkness” and that we do, indeed, have a light for these treacherous paths. Not only does Psalm 119 tell us “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path,” but we have the absolute best guide: Jesus.
In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
-John 1:4-5 NIV
Did the Israelites wander in their desert interminably? It felt like it, but it was not forever; they eventually arrived at their Promised Land. And “In how many ways did God refresh [them] in the desert! Sometimes it was the ‘shadow of a cloud that brought down the heat’; sometimes it was ‘the shadow of a great rock’; sometimes it was the foliage of the palm, or the [trees]…; and sometimes it was the genial breeze” (Horatius Bonar, The Desert of Sinai).
Second, we can utilize the word of God—the sword of the Spirit—as that of a surgeon, who can “heal every wounded chamber” of the heart.
“For the word of God is alive and active.
Sharper than any double-edged sword,
it penetrates eve to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow;
it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight.”-Hebrews 4:12-13
Did you catch that? We are not hidden! We are seen in those dark valleys by our God who breathed light into the very dawn of time. Dan Herod reminds us how to use the tools God has given us—a light and a sword—to “forge a true and healthy Path of Logic as you walk through darkest valleys” (p.64) and to use these tools to help us process the pain in our lives. How we package and process our current pain builds within us how we respond to future trials. These are the melancholy moments in life that require weapons of warfare.
“Could we but live more entirely in the unseen Presence and trust to the unseen support, - and if lonely, or disappointed, or depressed, turn more quickly to God, fully confident of His all-embracing care…”
-TT Carter, Joy & Strength, p. 234
Whether we are in the throes of melancholy or dealing with events on catastrophic levels, we are not alone. We can allow our brains to take the shape of our Creator’s thoughts toward us, to “take refuge in the shadow of [his] wings until the disaster has passed” (Psalms 57:1), knowing that “The Lord my God will enlighten my darkness” (Psalm 18:28; 2 Samuel 22:29).
If the psalmist and the Israelites can find refuge in the shadows, then I can live out this anomaly, too. I can be present for those who are grieving and give space to their sadness, not with platitudes but with presence. As for our hail damage, we made out better than many. And where I can’t single-handedly shingle my roof or rebuild my deck any more than I can fix the trials of those going through difficult times, I can transplant my shade-loving ferns and my lone trillium, so that they won’t get trampled by the roofers, whenever that process begins. They will thrive where I plant them.
He turned my circumstances around because I praised him in the hard place.
-John Dickson
“It serves us poorly to hurry past [sorrow]…honor the losses in your life. Instead of speeding past sadness, slow down and be present to your emotions. With Jesus, sit with your sorrow and let loss do its eternal work in your soul.”
-Alicia Britt Chole, 40 Days of Decrease, p.27
“When…overpowered by melancholy… the best way is to go out and to do something kind to somebody or other.”
-John Keble
“I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.”
-John 15:5
About The Author
Deborah Ann Custer is a homeschool mom who cultivates life in the southwest corner of Wisconsin. Deborah Ann is living her dream with her family by keeping up with laundry, dishes, giving piano and voice lessons, accompanying choirs, and pitching in with local theater productions. She loves cross country skiing through snow dusted trails, sunlight filtering in through her window during the quiet, early morning hours, and camping with her family. She and her husband have been leading worship at their church for over twenty years