Singing in the Dark

by Ginny Owens

  Throughout Israel’s remaining time in the Promised Land, God sent judges and kings to protect and lead His people. And they repeatedly turned from Him. Finally, He sent His Son, who, in an act of unbelievable power and humility, laid down His life on a cross, winning the ultimate victory of eternal life and freedom for all who believe.

  Now we wait for Jesus to return and to give us, as Paul said, incorruptible bodies and victory over death once and for all. Paul’s song explodes as he talked about this: “Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (1 Cor. 15:53–57).

  Like the Israelites, we too forget that victory is promised us. We know more of the story than they did, yet we still turn our hearts away—forgetting that God’s story is greater. But shouldn’t this ultimate victory over death become our constant song, our banner of hope? Do we truly believe that Christ’s victory gives us the power to walk through every life challenge?

  Mom now sings her own songs of victory. She has been cancer-free for more than a decade, and now that she is retired, she volunteers much of her time checking on patients and encouraging families at the same hospital where she received treatment. Whether it’s with a thoughtful email, a listening ear, a loaf of banana bread, or a tin of chocolate chip brownies, she is always ready to cheer on others with the hope that they do not fight alone.

  My mom knows firsthand that there are no limits to what God can do, whether carrying someone through chemo or flooding his or her heart with His love. Confident in her identity as a child of God, she has been able to sing of victory no matter what. And, just like my aunt’s cheer songs and Deborah’s faith, Mom’s song is contagious.

  My songs of hope returned too. It took a few years of wrestling, tears, and prayers for me to finally begin to discover the victory that I had been missing during Mom’s treatment. One of the passages that renewed my hope was in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. The refrain that played on repeat in my mind was “I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength” (4:13 NLT).

  Paul knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Christ had won the battle for his life by defeating death on the cross. Paul’s victory had been won by Christ. Once he learned that this was true, Paul centered the rest of his life on it.

  I too began to realize that one of the side effects of identity in Christ is victory—over fear, discouragement, anxiety, sin, and, in fact, all of life’s storms. And what a game changer that has been. Moved by the truth that my victory came by resting in Him, I wrote a fourteen-song album about it.5 No matter my circumstances, I was coming to accept that the battle and the outcome belong to the Lord.

  Aunt Carol’s fabulous cheer songs keep coming, and the mailing list has grown. And in each one, I see evidence that her joy is rooted in a deep place of peace. This peace comes from laying her worries and stresses on the One who holds her victory in His hands. Because of this, her emails, though always full of hope, are also honest. She doesn’t shy away from mentioning her challenges and how she is praying through them. And she never hesitates to emphatically express her confidence in the Lord, who will carry and protect her family through every battle.

  Some who have enjoyed her emails are in the thick of fighting cancer. And some, like me, have not faced that war. Others are now cancer-free, either here or in heaven. Whatever their circumstances, it turns out that a song that brings joy and strength in the Lord is a song lots of people want to hear on repeat.

  Your Song of Victory

  We often think victory over fear or depression comes as we live in a positive mental state. Although that is partially true, that mental state has to be rooted in a lasting truth that lives outside us—in our identity in Christ.

  I encourage you to write down the words of truth that would compose your song of victory. Which specific part of God’s truth, if you embraced it, would give you hope in the midst of any circumstance, no matter how dark?

  You could also write a song lamenting your current lack of confidence that God will bring victory, calling on Him to guide your heart to the light of His truth. Either way, write your song to God below.

  Here are some words from one of my songs to inspire your thinking as you write:

  Our God, our strength, our shield,

  Every time our hearts cry out, He hears.

  With our song we praise Him,

  Stronghold of salvation.

  We lift our hands to You,

  Standing on Your promise carried through,

  Your arms spread wide for us,

  Your daughters and Your sons,

  In Christ, our inheritance.6

  A Biblical Cheer Song

  Those who belong to the Lord belong to the new kingdom of Israel, God’s people. So we can memorize and sing the powerful, confident song of Deborah and Barak: “Hear this, you kings! Listen, you rulers! I, even I, will sing to the LORD; I will praise the LORD, the God of Israel, in song” (Judg. 5:3 NIV).

  Because our hearts are prone to wander, to forget the Lord and turn to other gods, we can also sing the words He spoke through Moses: “You will search for the LORD your God, and you will find him when you seek him with all your heart and all your soul” (Deut. 4:29).

  Hannah prayed:

  My heart rejoices in the LORD; my horn is lifted up by the LORD. My mouth boasts over my enemies, because I rejoice in your salvation.

  There is no one holy like the LORD. There is no one besides you! And there is no rock like our God.

  Do not boast so proudly, or let arrogant words come out of your mouth, for the LORD is a God of knowledge, and actions are weighed by him.

  The bows of the warriors are broken, but the feeble are clothed with strength.

  Those who are full hire themselves out for food, but those who are starving hunger no more. The woman who is childless gives birth to seven, but the woman with many sons pines away.

  The LORD brings death and gives life; he sends some down to Sheol, and he raises others up.

  The LORD brings poverty and gives wealth; he humbles and he exalts.

  He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the trash heap. He seats them with noblemen and gives them a throne of honor. For the foundations of the earth are the LORD’s; he has set the world on them.

  He guards the steps of his faithful ones, but the wicked perish in darkness, for a person does not prevail by his own strength.

  Those who oppose the LORD will be shattered; he will thunder in the heavens against them. The LORD will judge the ends of the earth. He will give power to his king; he will lift up the horn of his anointed.

  1 Samuel 2:1–10

  Chapter 4

  A Song of Strength

  The Makeup Challenge

  I was twelve when the greatest day of my life arrived. For at least a year, I had been yearning for and pleading with my mom to be allowed to wear makeup. The wait had felt like an eternity to my tween heart. So far I had only gotten to trade in my ChapStick for lip gloss. I wanted more. Despite my pleas for powders and crèmes to pile on my face, Mom’s answer was always a resolute “No. You’re too young.”

  Then one blessed day, she surrendered to my merciless begging. “You have to promise one thing,” she said. “If you get makeup, you’re going to put it on every day for school.”

  Duh, I thought. I would happily put it on two or three times a day, if I could just have some.

  So off we went to the house of a friend who sold makeup for a full morning of lessons. The fun began with a light, powdery foundation suitable for a middle schooler.

  Our friend patiently showed me how to get just enough on the sponge and how and where to apply it to my face. Though my blending skills were subpar, after a half hour or so of “foundationing,” I sort of had it figured out. We moved on to blush. More swipes in a palette, this time with a brush, and another new motion to learn. After another half hour of learning to swipe and blend, we were into eyeshadow and mascara. More brushes and palettes and blending techniques. Mor
e failed attempts at getting it right.

  Four hours in, my face was properly made up, but my head was exploding. Makeup in real life was not nearly as much fun as the idea of makeup.

  I packed up my beauty booty and headed home, exhausted. The next morning, with some trepidation, I went to the bathroom vanity and began the makeup-applying process on my own. I vaguely remembered the sponge moves for getting the foundation right. I got the blush close to where it should be. But when I got to the eyeshadow, Mom had to remind me of the steps. I was worn out before I ever left for school.

  The second day was much like the first. But on the third day, I decided to skip the eyeshadow. On the fourth day, I skipped the foundation and just went for a little blush. By the fifth day, I was back to lip gloss. I informed my mother that makeup was too hard and I was giving it up.

  “Oh, no you aren’t,” she said. “You agreed you would put it on every day. You will learn to put on makeup, because one day you will need it. And if you don’t put it on, people will think it’s because you’re not capable. So the time to figure it out is now.”

  I didn’t like her answer, but I knew she was right, and I’m thankful she made me stick to the process. Mom, bless her, knew that her tween daughter who loved tight-rolled jeans and dresses with massive shoulder pads—fashion forward then—and the idea of makeup would need these skills in a world where she’d have to fight extra hard for a place, just because she couldn’t see. It was during experiences like this that I learned how to build the inner grit that would get me far in life.

  Becoming blind is one of the top three fears of many people in the world. Though I didn’t know that at the time, I learned early on that being different could lead to isolation and sadness unless I took matters into my own hands. Making a better life was up to me. As I practiced applying makeup—or ironing clothes, cooking, or cleaning the house—I knew all of it was preparing me for the future.

  Mastering each new task gave me confidence that I could do almost anything I set my mind to and that my drive to do so would help me thrive in a sighted world. But there is a problem with this sort of inner grit. At some point, it runs out.

  The work of earning and maintaining your place in the world is a relentless, endless, exhausting pursuit that eventually drains you of all your strength. Then you falter and feel like a failure. You try to recover by gritting it out, and you fail again. After a million cycles of this, I had to face the reality that inner grit was not the same as true inner strength. When I got to that point, I had to learn a new set of steps that could lead me down the path to that strength.

  Nobody wants to be weak or thought of as weak. Yet we all face challenges and we all have weaknesses. How do you manage yours? Perhaps you are driven and determined like me, doing whatever it takes to always appear cool, calm, and in control. Or maybe, in total frustration, you find yourself blaming or resenting others when you feel overwhelmed by life’s challenges—something I’ve often done as well. Or perhaps you sit in the back row and stand on the sidelines, your fear and lack of confidence whispering to you to hide from the world. I’ve been there too.

  But what if there is another way? A way to find not only deep strength in the midst of our weakness but also deep joy. One of my teachers on strength in weakness from the Bible is Hannah, whose story and song are found at the beginning of 1 Samuel. She learned some important lessons about strength that not only changed her life but also helped change the course of history. The story of how she navigated her challenges is full of truth that can help us as we walk through our own difficulties and come to grips with our weaknesses.

  Admitting Defeat

  Hannah was the mother of Samuel, the great priest of Israel who eventually anointed the famous King David. But this is far from the place where she began. Hannah’s story opens with the revelation of her utterly miserable circumstances. She was one of a man’s two wives—and as we’ve already seen, that never results in peace. In fact, the other wife, Peninnah, is referred to as her “rival” (1 Sam. 1:6–7). To make matters worse, Hannah could not have children.

  In today’s world, being unable to conceive is an incredible heartbreak for many. But being childless in Hannah’s day meant that a woman had no value whatsoever. Society had absolutely no sympathy for someone suffering in this way.1

  Year after year, Hannah, Peninnah, and their husband, Elkanah, traveled to the tabernacle in Shiloh to worship God (v. 3). And year after year, Peninnah would bully Hannah because she had no children. Every year, “Hannah would weep and would not eat” (v. 7). Hannah’s loving but super-insensitive husband would ask her why she was crying: “Am I not better to you than ten sons?” (v. 8).

  Though we don’t have insight into Hannah’s life beyond the tabernacle, we do know that Elkanah loved her very much (v. 5), and we can infer that she was likely Elkanah’s first wife. Not only is she named first (v. 2), but he probably would not have taken a second wife if the first one had been able to conceive. We can imagine, then, that Hannah didn’t spend every day grieving.

  I bet she often tapped into her own inner grit—going about her day-to-day, responding to her husband’s love, and maintaining calm around Peninnah and her kids. Yet because of her infertility, Hannah lived in a perpetual state of sadness and longing. For her, all the pain and drama came to a head every year at the time of worship. She was a true victim—battling infertility, lack of empathy from her husband, and bullying from the other wife.

  Then came the moment at Shiloh when Hannah had had enough. Broken and defeated, she chose to step away from the chaos that had previously always distracted her from worshipping the Lord, reducing her instead to tears and the inability to eat anything (v. 7). She ran straight into the arms of Yahweh, laying before Him all the things that had so far held them miles apart. He met her there in her brokenness. It was in this meeting with God, this place of emptying and receiving, that Hannah found true strength.

  For most of my life, the mental noise of navigating a sighted world without sight has kept me from trusting completely that God actually wants to give me relentless strength. Ever since I can remember, my tendency has been to rely on my own abilities instead of leaning on Him with my full weight.

  About the same time that I began to experience the joy of makeup, I felt the pain of bullying. In middle school, kids were cruel. Some of it was run-of-the-mill adolescent behavior: whispers and giggles because of my new haircut or the wrong answer I gave when called on by a teacher. But being the only blind student at the public school where I spent half my day meant I also experienced the full force of some unique bullying.

  Someone would steal my lunch in the cafeteria, and everyone at the table would laugh. Kids would complain loudly enough for all to hear when it was their turn to guide me through an unfamiliar area. I got called stupid a lot. I also got to spend lots of days alone on the playground. The abuse left me feeling weak, insignificant, and alone.

  After one of the darkest days of bullying, my mom gently told me, “Ginny, Jesus is always your best friend. But some days it may feel like He’s your only friend.” She assured me I could tell Him everything, because not only did He see and know everything I was facing, but He had also experienced the worst bullying and the worst darkness imaginable. To cry out to Him was to cry out to a God who knew my struggles firsthand.

  I accepted her words in theory, but I didn’t know how to tap into the strength He could give. I thought that even though He was there to hear prayers and oversee things, my inner strength was the key to my success. It has taken me years to learn that possessing unwavering, true inner strength involves being vulnerable and meeting with God again and again.

  Meeting with God

  Hannah is a beautiful example of meeting with God in vulnerability. She entered the tabernacle, and in deep brokenness with many tears, she poured out her heart to the Lord (1 Sam. 1:10). She did not resign herself to her circumstances and just praise anyway. She brought her aching heart and passionately prayed a
bout the thing that weighed her down the most.

  In her weakness, she went to the Lord and offered up her desire to the only One who could bring change: “LORD of Armies, if you will take notice of your servant’s affliction, remember and not forget me, and give your servant a son, I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life” (v. 11).

  Several things are immediately clear in Hannah’s prayer. Hannah knew that the Lord she was talking to is all powerful—she called Him “LORD of Armies” (or “LORD of hosts” ESV). She was directing her prayer to the One who held her life—and the world—in His capable hands. Because she knew these things about the Lord, she knew her prayer was not falling on deaf ears.

  Hannah’s longing for children then came to the surface, revealing another beautiful, powerful aspect of prayer. Because the God of creation cares about every detail of our lives, meeting Him in prayer requires our total honesty and total trust that He hears and wants to work in every longing we lay before Him.

  We learn more about how to pray from Hannah’s conversation with Eli, the priest. In this dark time in Israel, Eli wasn’t used to seeing people pour out their hearts to God, and he mistakenly accused Hannah of being drunk (v. 14). Hannah insisted she was sober. She was simply “a woman with a broken heart … praying from the depth of [her] anguish and resentment” (vv. 15–16).

  Hannah didn’t pray for only a son. She also gave God the anxiety and bitterness that had been holding her prisoner. Hannah laid on the Lord her deepest longings, her deepest sadness, and her deepest darkness. She gave all that was in the recesses of her heart to the God who created her.