I believe it was the Dutch evangelist Corrie ten Boom who once said, “There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.” She knew what she was talking about. In the horrors of Ravensbrück concentration camp during the Second World War, she experienced firsthand how Jesus carried her through unspeakable suffering, and how God later used her testimony to bring hope and rest to countless weary souls.
Today, darkness and despair may seem to press in on every side. Yet with God on our side, we truly have nothing to fear. Not ever. That’s the heartbeat of this week’s (fictional) Story of the Week, and it’s my prayer that it will also speak to your heart.
In The Heart Of Darkness
By J.K. Stenger
In my grief I stumbled out into the raging storm, the chilly rain a stark contrast to the burning tears on my face. I still heard my wife calling, her voice a desperate cry that haunted me, “Where are you going? I need you.”
I did not heed her call, for I needed to be away from it all; alone in the night. The rain drenched me in seconds, but that didn’t matter.
Each lightning bolt split the oppressive darkness and the thunderclap that followed shook me to the core. That didn’t matter, either. The darkness in my heart was a bottomless pit, far deeper and more chilling than the raging storm outside. Had there ever been a night so dark?
Blindly I stumbled on, with no sense of where I was going, for inside my house my dear son lay lifeless in the arms of my weeping wife and God had been silent.
The church had told me to pray. So, I had.
The church suggested I’d search my heart and confess all my sins. I had done that too. Confessed it all, humbled myself with tears, but it had brought me nothing.
The misery had been stronger than God and now the dead body of my son was a testament to the futility of prayer.
Low-hanging branches hit my face, cut my arms and forehead, tore on my wet clothes and as I ran on, I tasted blood mingled with rain. It didn’t matter.
My feet went out from under me and I landed with a thud, my head hitting the cold, wet grass. Had someone pushed me? Impossible. Nobody else was out. But I sensed a presence around and it was then I heard a voice, clear and loud to my heart.
“What is your hope?”
I struggled to comprehend and looked around if there was anybody there, but it was too dark to see. “There is no hope,” I screamed back into the storm. “Life is unjust and without reason.”
Lightning flashed again, then came a thunderclap so loud it felt like my eardrums would rupture. Everything around illuminated for a brief instant. I could see as if it was day. Rocks, bushes, more rocks, and in the far distance the sea below. And, right before me, a gaping abyss. Instantly, I knew where I was.
Carrybran Cliff.
One more step and I would have plummeted to my death.
The darkness returned and the raging wind kept pulling on me as if to cry, “Walk on, pilgrim, and die like your son.”
That would be easy. One more step and it would all be over. Gone my pain and gone my wavering faith that had brought me nothing.
“What’s your hope?” That voice had asked.
Was there really no hope?
“God,” I whispered in the dark, “Help me.”
Out of nowhere, a deep sense of rest welled up. No longer did I feel the biting rain or the wind tearing at my tired limbs. That’s when I saw the light.
Across the vast expanse of the sea, a tiny bright light appeared, rapidly growing in size and intensity as it sped towards me. I stared at it in wonder as it drew near, a radiant glow that deepened until I was bathed in a celestial luminescence beyond compare. Yet it did not hurt my eyes. And there, in the middle of the light was the face of my son, a smile on his lips. A healthy pink flushed his cheeks and an unfamiliar tenderness shone in his eyes, warming me.
As I felt myself shrink, the vision heightened; each detail becoming sharper, more vivid. Then I heard my son’s voice directly in my heart. He was only three, but he sounded so mature. “Daddy, the Father had need of a flower and so he plucked me for his garden. Do not grieve, for all shall be well.”
I couldn’t speak and at that instant, the light faded away. The vision was over. The rain returned, the wind still pulled on my hair and my clothes, yet a profound peace washed over me.
Now there were tears of gratitude as I peered over the edge of Carrybran Cliff, a mere ten inches from a terrifying drop. My heart was humbled but clean, as there, in the heart of darkness I truly found God, not in a change of circumstances, but in His quiet presence.
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