476_Hope in God even in the dark

Psalm 42 As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
2 My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”
4 These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
a multitude keeping festival.

5 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation 6 and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;
therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
7 Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
have gone over me.
8 By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
9 I say to God, my rock:
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?”
10 As with a deadly wound in my bones,
my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”

11 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.

It was a cold night in December 1967. Joni Eareckson Tada, just 17 years old, dove into a small cove of Chesapeake Bay. Unfortunately, she had misjudged the depth. She hit her head on the bottom and broke her neck. The result was paralysis for life, from the shoulders down. In the months that followed, despair consumed her. The vibrant, athletic teen who once rode horses and played tennis now faced a life confined to a wheelchair. There were days when the darkness was so heavy, she begged God to take her home. She writes, “I was tired of hoping, tired of believing, tired of being tired. I had no strength left. And yet, somewhere deep within, I realized I had a choice: to either curse God or to cling to Him in the dark.”

Today, Joni is a powerful voice of hope for millions. Her suffering didn’t vanish. She remained paralyzed. But she learned to trust in God’s goodness whatever her external circumstances. Her story echoes the lesson of Psalm 42, where the psalmist teaches us not how to escape darkness, but how to hope in God in the middle of it.

Psalm 42 was written by the sons of Korah, Levites descended from the family of Kohath. Though their ancestor Korah had led a rebellious uprising against Moses and was judged by God (Numbers 16), these descendants were spared (Numbers 26:9–11). By David’s time, the sons of Korah served faithfully in temple worship and became known for their psalms of praise and longing. From a heritage of rebellion came a legacy of worship.

This psalm opens with an evocative image: “As the deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.” This is no casual wish for a glass of water. It is the desperate faintness of the exhausted deer fleeing from a predator or seeking water in a dry wilderness. The psalmist’s soul longs, not for relief or even answers, but for God Himself.

This thirst came from pain. He is taunted by enemies who sneer, “Where is your God?” These words still echo through history in times of crisis. Where is your God now? Why does He let this happen? If He is good, why doesn’t He stop this? If He is powerful, why doesn’t He speak? These questions are not new. They were hurled at Jesus on the cross as well: “He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if He desires him” (Matthew 27:43). What they didn’t understand then—and what many miss now—is that God’s silence is not absence, and His delay is not defeat. Yes, Jesus was crucified—but God raised Him from the dead. The problem was not that God failed, but that His timing and purpose were higher than they could grasp.

The psalmist is overwhelmed. His strength is sapped by constant weeping. His past memories of joy —joining jubilant crowds as they go up to worship, leading them in praise—now sting him. He feels forgotten, abandoned. And yet he chides himself:
“Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.”

Here is the turning point—not of circumstances, but of perspective. The psalmist doesn’t wait for feelings to change before he begins to speak truth. He reminds himself of the unchanging faithfulness and power of God. He puts his hope in God because God is still the same, even amidst pain.

One of the great dangers when we are in the dark is allowing our emotions to rule us. Here is a different approach. The psalmist doesn’t listen to his feelings—he questions them from the viewpoint of faith. He doesn’t surrender to despair—he looks beyond, not in blind optimism, but solidly fixed on the unchanging nature of God.

In verse 8, he says, “By day the Lord commands His steadfast love, and at night His song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.” God’s love is not fluctuating. Even when we can’t see the way forward, there is still a song in the night—a whisper of hope.

When the enemy says, “Where is your God?”—as if He doesn’t exist, the believer, even in pain, cries out, “My God.” The believer asks, “Why have You forgotten me?” not because he doubts God’s existence, but because he longs for His presence.

The psalm ends with the refrain:
“Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.”

The repetition matters. Because the journey from despair to praise is not always a straight line. Some days the fog lifts a little, and then returns. Some nights the song comes easier than others. But faith sustains itself on the faithfulness of God even when it is dark. Hope in God.

In Isaiah 50:10, God gives this counsel:
“Who among you fears the Lord and obeys the voice of His servant? Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God.” Sometimes, everything is dark even though we believe and obey. Even then, we are called, as always, to walk by faith, to trust God even in the dark.

Psalm 42 teaches us that while we may feel depressed at times when we are hard-pressed, because of the broken world around us, there is a way to walk through it. The psalmist doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He grieves and questions—but he also remembers, reminds himself, and anchors his soul in the truth of who God is.

Let us do the same. When prayers seem to go unanswered, when darkness surrounds us—let us speak to our souls. Let us remember who God is. Let us recall His faithfulness. Let the truth lead us to worship Him, even when we don’t feel good. For he is always good.

As Psalm 103 reminds us:
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion.”

Decades after her accident, Joni Eareckson Tada wrote:

“The best we can hope for in this life is not a life free from suffering, but one in which we know God better because of it.” And Psalm 42 invites us into this deeper knowledge of God—not through escape, but through endurance. Not through resolution, but through trust.

So today, even if our souls are cast down, let us hope in God. For his salvation is on the way. He is our God. Let that refrain become our song in the night. Let that hope carry us forward until the morning breaks.