Silas
Beloved Servant
You are standing at the bottom of a pit, and it feels like every path behind you was a mistake and every path ahead is blocked. The regret is crushing. You look back at leaving that workplace and your health failing, and you see a double loss. I do not say that lightly. The sorrow you are carrying is not small, and the physical deterioration you describe is real. Please hear this though: what you are experiencing in your soul and your body are deeply connected. The despair in your mind has a way of working its way into your very body, and the failing of your body feeds the despair of your mind. It becomes a terrible cycle that feels impossible to break.
But here is the strange and severe mercy that can be found at the very bottom. When you have exhausted every effort to fix your life, when you have no strength left and your own hands have utterly failed, you have actually arrived at the place where God can finally do His deepest work. It is a hard truth, but we often do not truly cry out “who shall deliver me?” until we have first cried in despair, “O wretched man that I am!” Your sense of total helplessness, that no one can help you and you cannot even help yourself, is not the end of faith. It can be the very beginning of a faith that relies on nothing and no one but Christ alone. He allows us to sink to this point so that when the victory comes, we will know it was not by our cleverness or our own strength, but by His Spirit alone. You cannot deliver yourself, but He can.
The Scriptures show us a man in a similar pit of despair and depression, whose soul was bowed down within him. In the middle of that hopelessness, he made a critical turn. He said, “This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.” He chose to remember. You can think yourself deeper into the grave of despair by dwelling on the tragedy and abuse of the past thirty years. But you can also, by a deliberate act of your will, set your mind on the character of God. You can recall that the Lord’s compassions never fail; they are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. This is not pretending your circumstances are not horrific. It is finding a hope that exists outside of them. The command is to rejoice in the Lord, not to rejoice in your failing health or your empty bank account.
I want to be direct about the physical side as well. God is interested in your body; it is the temple of His Spirit. While your soul is in such turmoil, your health will suffer. And while you are in this state of financial strain, caring for your body may seem impossible. Yet do not underestimate how the small things done in obedience can help. Do what you can, however little, to care for the body God has given you, with the food you can get, the rest you can find. Your body needs care, and your mind needs to be renewed, not by escaping into a false reality, but by being anchored in the truth of God’s Word.
You are afraid of the streets, and that is a terrifying prospect. The financial ruin you face is exactly the kind of severe trial that the early believers in Macedonia faced. They were in deep poverty, yet God met them there. I am not promising a sudden check in the mail, but I am promising you a God who sees. He is not about to go bankrupt, and He does not need you to bail Him out of your crisis. Turn your eyes from the impossible sum you need and the failed job you left. You do not know what God may yet do. You said you thought the Lord wanted the best for you. He does, but His definition of “best” is to conform you into the image of Jesus Christ, and sometimes that path leads through a valley of the shadow of death. In that valley, He is with you.
I do not minimize the abuse you have suffered from people. Evil is real, and it leaves deep scars. But those who hurt you do not have the final word over your life. Get your eyes off of those who harmed you and off of your own failing body. Look up. Cry out to Him from the bottom of your pit, not with a polished prayer, but with the raw truth: “Lord, I am undone. I have no hope but You. Deliver me.” He hears the broken. He is the health of your countenance and your God. You will yet praise Him, even for this dark valley. That is a promise you can cling to when every feeling screams otherwise.
But here is the strange and severe mercy that can be found at the very bottom. When you have exhausted every effort to fix your life, when you have no strength left and your own hands have utterly failed, you have actually arrived at the place where God can finally do His deepest work. It is a hard truth, but we often do not truly cry out “who shall deliver me?” until we have first cried in despair, “O wretched man that I am!” Your sense of total helplessness, that no one can help you and you cannot even help yourself, is not the end of faith. It can be the very beginning of a faith that relies on nothing and no one but Christ alone. He allows us to sink to this point so that when the victory comes, we will know it was not by our cleverness or our own strength, but by His Spirit alone. You cannot deliver yourself, but He can.
The Scriptures show us a man in a similar pit of despair and depression, whose soul was bowed down within him. In the middle of that hopelessness, he made a critical turn. He said, “This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.” He chose to remember. You can think yourself deeper into the grave of despair by dwelling on the tragedy and abuse of the past thirty years. But you can also, by a deliberate act of your will, set your mind on the character of God. You can recall that the Lord’s compassions never fail; they are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. This is not pretending your circumstances are not horrific. It is finding a hope that exists outside of them. The command is to rejoice in the Lord, not to rejoice in your failing health or your empty bank account.
I want to be direct about the physical side as well. God is interested in your body; it is the temple of His Spirit. While your soul is in such turmoil, your health will suffer. And while you are in this state of financial strain, caring for your body may seem impossible. Yet do not underestimate how the small things done in obedience can help. Do what you can, however little, to care for the body God has given you, with the food you can get, the rest you can find. Your body needs care, and your mind needs to be renewed, not by escaping into a false reality, but by being anchored in the truth of God’s Word.
You are afraid of the streets, and that is a terrifying prospect. The financial ruin you face is exactly the kind of severe trial that the early believers in Macedonia faced. They were in deep poverty, yet God met them there. I am not promising a sudden check in the mail, but I am promising you a God who sees. He is not about to go bankrupt, and He does not need you to bail Him out of your crisis. Turn your eyes from the impossible sum you need and the failed job you left. You do not know what God may yet do. You said you thought the Lord wanted the best for you. He does, but His definition of “best” is to conform you into the image of Jesus Christ, and sometimes that path leads through a valley of the shadow of death. In that valley, He is with you.
I do not minimize the abuse you have suffered from people. Evil is real, and it leaves deep scars. But those who hurt you do not have the final word over your life. Get your eyes off of those who harmed you and off of your own failing body. Look up. Cry out to Him from the bottom of your pit, not with a polished prayer, but with the raw truth: “Lord, I am undone. I have no hope but You. Deliver me.” He hears the broken. He is the health of your countenance and your God. You will yet praise Him, even for this dark valley. That is a promise you can cling to when every feeling screams otherwise.
