What to Do When the Darkness Closes In

I like the way David makes bold statements about his zeal for God.

Here’s one, from Psalm 138:1.

“I give you thanks, O LORD, with my whole heart.”

I want to take a deeper dive into this prayer, especially the phrase “with my whole heart.”

What is the heart? It is usually defined as the emotions. And that’s a good start.

Let’s take a look at what the Hebrew word means (“lev”). According to one well-respected Hebrew dictionary (Brown-Driver-Briggs), “lev” refers to “the inner man, mind, will, heart . . . the inner man in contrast to the outer . . . i.e., the soul, comprehending mind, affections, and will.”

In the Bible, the heart is much more than our feelings. Yes, it can mean the affections, but it also includes the mind, the will, and the soul. It’s the entire inner person, the control center for the real you – all of you.

So David is making quite a statement here. He is saying to God, “I will give you thanks with all my heart” (NASB). Whoa! This is quite a declaration.

The Message captures the meaning well: “Thank you! Everything in me says ‘Thank you!”

Do I give thanks to God with that kind of wholehearted devotion? Sometimes, yes. But sometimes, no.

Some days my desire for God isn’t what it should be. I have days when I just don’t feel like praising God, so I don’t. I may do it anyway, out of duty, because I know I’m supposed to. And that doesn’t feel good either because then I feel like a hypocrite.

And sometimes I don’t want to thank God. That, too, feels lousy.

Then there are days when I don’t feel like reading the Bible. But again, I still do it because I find it a hard habit to break. Yet doing it only out of duty is a downer.

I have days when I’m on fire for God. And then there are days when the fire goes out, and I’m flat. My zeal can vary from day to day.

I ask God to forgive me for my fickleness. I confess my inconsistency, and I ask God to renew my love for him.

When I read the Bible, even when I don’t want to, I usually end up in a better place; specifically, in the presence of God. When I read the Word, He is speaking to me whether or not I am listening. And when I finally tune in, He is speaking loud and clear.

I had one of these spiritual dry times recently, back in March. It lasted about two weeks. I didn’t like it. And I don’t think God did either. I’m glad it’s over. I missed Him.

He was there the whole time. And I missed Him.

He was there, but where was I? Ironically alone, a sad and dark place to be.

Like Paul, I was in Romans 7. He was transparent about his ongoing battle with sin. He confesses that he continues to sin, even though he hates it: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (v. 15).

He grows weary of the never-ending war against his flesh – “Wretched man that I am!” (v. 24).

Fortunately, in the same breath, he acknowledges that there is a solution to the problem – “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (v. 25) because He “will deliver me from this body of death” (v. 24). Jesus, whose name literally means “Yahweh saves,” is able to rescue us from the tyranny of sin.

So there is hope for me, too, when my passion for God dissipates, and the darkness closes in. I can go to Jesus, my high priest who is interceding for me, and confess my apathy and dryness of soul, and cry out for mercy, and He will forgive me and restore me to Himself and to my Father.

By the end of March, that is what happened. God granted me the gift of repentance and Jesus “drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure” (Psalm 40:2).

It didn’t happen suddenly or abundantly. But it happened, slowly but surely, over several days. I tend to drift away from God as a stubborn stoic and return as a bankrupt beggar.

What do you do when your zeal for God goes flat, and the darkness will not lift?