"Noche Oscura"

Maybe because my younger boys like Batman and maybe because I have been feeling a spiritual dryness for an unparalleled period in my life, the phrase "dark night of the soul" has been echoing in my head.  Interestingly enough, the phrase "noche oscura," or what is commonly known as the "dark night of the soul," comes from a poem by the 16th century Spanish poet, St. John of the Cross. He did not intend it as we think of it today--a time of difficulty and spiritual impoverishment.  He was writing about the soul's journey to God.  The dark for him is our unknown destination with an unseen God. His "noche oscura" was joyful for God redeems. . .

 A few weeks ago, I finished Elie Wiesel's book, Night, telling of the Holocaust horrors he, his father, and his fellow Jews experienced in the concentration camp and work camp of Auschwitz and Buchenwald near the end of WWII. After reading his harrowing account, my own sorrow was made heavier, but I no longer felt I was experiencing a "dark night" because in comparison to his experiences in 1944-45, my current angst was nothing.  It felt ridiculous for me to be sad in my current situation. I felt ridiculous. But God redeems. . .

I had a friend when D was younger who had children about the same age as he.  They were/are beautiful, bright, typically developing children, and the mother confided to me her struggle with depression.  I had also experienced many of the same fears and feelings and expressed this to her. I will never forget what she said, "You have reason to be sad, overwhelmed, and fearful about the future with your son, your life.  [I was also a single parent at the time dating a man who could not commit.] But I don't.  My children are normal.  I am married to a wonderful man.  My life is good.  Yet I am sad without cause, without hope."  Then we discussed the faith and hope that is found in Christ.  She agreed that hope was found in Christ, but she could not grasp and hold on to it. I did not understand. Yet God redeems. . .

On November 9th, a new wave of sorrow washed over me.  Reading the reactions of dear friends on Facebook, rejoicing or lamenting, relieved or dejected over their candidates, made it difficult for me to function. Attitudes of both sides affected me.  For my sorrow, made insignificant by reading a Holocaust autobiography and then aroused by the current political climate, the phrase "dark night" was no longer applicable; now weary of trying to love, trying to teach, trying to care for others, even my own precious boys, the image of the dry bones of Ezekiel 35 seemed apropos:

¹¹ Then he said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say,
 ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’

That was it!  I felt dried up, without hope. But since D's situation has improved, I have less cause to be blue. "D's up!" Ben shouts a few times each day.  At first when we came home from D's surgery in August, I was unsure whether he would ever walk without assistance again.  He didn't try very often initially.  But now he is getting up and my youngest son is alerting us to D's mobility, aware of the danger that walking alone may bring if the floor is not picked up or the bedspread's hanging at a jaunty angle or the sweatpants are too long and dragging the floor or a littered piece of paper makes the hardwood slippery or a stumble occurs from trying to ambulate without first becoming steady or the chain door-locks are not fastened so that D will escape outdoors. So God redeems. . .

Relief that D can walk and is regaining his skills is tempered by the stress of his being unsteady and unable to be left alone at all.  And my sorrow, the weight of malaise, exacerbated by listening to the  news which is never good, continues to squelch my spirit.  My countenance has changed.  I know it.  I feel it.  A man from church once remarked that I was always smiling; that no matter what my boys were doing, I would always be smiling.  An aunt has said that I sparkle, but my sparkle is gone. I am too tired to smile, to shine. I don't want to be around people and really wish I could just stay in bed all day, no all week, yet I find that I cannot sleep.  Three-four hours a night most nights of the week is all I enjoy. Will God redeem?

"The joy of the Lord is my strength."  I always thought this verse meant that God would give me joy to endure.  But it says that my strength comes from the delight I have in God.  In fact this verse comes from Nehemiah 8:10 when Ezra the scribe tells the weeping people who upon hearing God's law realize they have broken it:  

 “Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions

 to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our Lord. 

And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”

                                                                  And God redeems. . .

D is a wonderful example of delighting oneself in the LORD. When we were in the van on the way to therapy one afternoon not long ago, the Jeremy Camp song came on, "There Will Be a Day": 

"But I hold on to this hope and the promise that He brings 

That there will be a place with no more suffering”  

When D heard those lines, he started clapping. 
"I can't wait until that day 
Where the very one I've lived for always
Will wipe away the sorrow that I've faced”

At this point, he started saying, “yeah, yeah” and began clapping even faster. 

"There will be a day with no more tears.

No more pain, and no more fears.

There will be a day when the burdens of this place

Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face”

When he heard the lines about seeing Jesus face to face, D started shouting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you!” He was clapping the whole time, his face beaming. Here is the song if you haven't heard it:There Will Be a Day

D's rejoicing in seeing Jesus face to face and looking forward to a day without pain, suffering or sorrow, moved me. His delight in the LORD helps me see that the oppressive sadness smothering me will one day be removed and in the meantime, my delight needs to be in the One who has redeemed me, the One who promises to be my strength.   Hallelujah, God redeems!