You have been looking so long at the door that has shut, the examination you could not pass, the position you could not win, that your soul has grown faint and the years feel like a prison with no key. And into that low place the dark suggestion has crept again and again: “God has abandoned you. All this waiting and hoping is useless. Your life has become a long defeat.” That, my dear soul, is not the voice of your Shepherd. It is the fiery dart of the enemy, and it is the most poisonous lie he can shoot, because it strikes at the very heart of your trust.
But lift your eyes for a moment from the wreckage of your plans. See where your true help lies. You have a living Savior, one who is not sitting idle in the heavens, but is at this very hour at the right hand of the Father, carrying on His work with an undiscouraged heart. The Scriptures say of Him, “He shall not fail nor be discouraged.” That is your Lord, the One in whom you have hoped. He has undertaken for you, and He does not abandon the souls for whom He shed His blood. Your failures in education, your stalled career, these are real and they ache like a wound, but they are not the measure of His purpose. The story He is writing may have this long, dark passage, but the final chapter is resurrection.
Remember, a straight road up the mountain is no use to a man who has fallen into a crevasse and lies there with broken limbs. The law of God can show you the path, but it cannot lift you out of the pit. That is why Christ came down into your humanity. He let Himself be laid low, even to death, so that He might raise you. And now He lives to plead the cause of your soul. You are not left to climb by your own efforts. You are carried in the arms of His grace.
I know the fear visits you in the night, the panic that whispers life will never change, that the bread on your table may fail, that the sum of your years will add up to nothing. But do you not see that fear is a poor pilot? It will drive you onto worse rocks. “What time I am afraid,” said David, “I will trust in Thee.” That is the cure. Not the silencing of every tremor, that may not come at once, but the turning of your heart within the tremor to the God who holds you. When you cannot speak with the trumpet-tone of assurance, speak with the whisper of a child’s trust: “Lord, I am afraid, but I look to You.”
And I would urge you, when the depression settles like a fog, do not give a tongue to your unbelief. Muzzle that howling thing. It will do you no good and it will rob the Lord of His glory. Instead, let your lips learn to say what faith holds onto: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.” You may feel a prisoner groaning, appointed to death, but that is not your end. He who raised the Weeping Prophet from the miry dungeon will raise you. And out of that deliverance will come a song that makes angels envious.
Your hope is not misplaced because it rests in a Man who learned obedience through the things He suffered. He knows the long, gray path of seeming failure. He understands the desolation of a soul that cries, “How long?” He was the Son, yet He was not exempt from grief. And now, as your risen Lord, He ever lives to intercede for you. You are being saved not by your career success, but by His wounds.
So do not gaze down into the pit of your own insufficiency, but look up. The eyes of faith see a throne occupied by a Friend who has pledged Himself to bring you home. Your life is hidden with Christ in God, and though the visible harvest seems blighted, the secret root remains. He who began a good work in you will complete it. Until then, rest in His promise and count it a joy even now, because He has pleaded the causes of your soul.
Now let us bow our hearts.
Lord Jesus, You who are the ever-living Worker, the un-failing Shepherd, lift the heavy head of this weary one. Break the power of the lie that says he is forsaken. Speak peace to his troubled heart, and let him feel the grip of Your unchanging love. Though he cannot see the way, You see it. Lead him step by step, and let him find in You the fulfillment of every promise. We hand him over to Your keeping, knowing that You will not fail nor be discouraged until You have brought him safely home. Amen.