Singing in the Dark

by Ginny Owens

  And it is the first step to staying free every day. As human beings, we prefer to try to earn freedom on our own merit. But remembering that we cannot make ourselves whole—and returning to the One who can—brings great depth to our songs.

  The Transformation: Bold Prayers

  David’s prayer of repentance could have led to utter despair, but instead, it led to greater hope.2 David asked God to recreate his heart and to “renew a right spirit” in him (v. 10 ESV). He begged the Lord to remain close to him, to not dismiss him. He boldly asked God to help him be willing to always do what He asked (vv. 11–12).

  In other words, David knew that just as his cleansing must happen supernaturally, so must his change of heart. For David to want to honor God in the midst of prosperity—or when a beautiful woman was in front of him or when he simply would prefer to lie around in bed—would require God’s Spirit to be breathing into his heart and mind.

  A certain spiritual blindness comes over us when we sin. We do not think or see clearly. David wanted no more of that. Rather than simply saying to his God, “I’ll do better next time,” he said, “I know I won’t do any better next time unless You first do a miracle in me.”

  Next David said something quite interesting: “Then I will teach the rebellious your ways, and sinners will return to you” (v. 13).

  One of the best parts of being set free spiritually is that you can honestly share where you’ve been and how you’ve failed. Why? Because the story has (and keeps having) a miraculous ending. You have been changed. And God keeps changing you.

  David had discovered how powerful the pull of sin is. He knew that pull would not completely go away, but he now knew the greater power with which he could fight his way through. He wanted others to know that power as well so sin would not darken their minds and weigh them down. The Lord answered David’s prayer to teach, as generations of people for thousands of years have learned the ways of repentance from him.

  I too am now eager to talk about breaking free from a misoriented life and the powerful hold of sin, guilt, and shame. Though I know my new life in Christ is not dependent on what I do, I need a constant gospel refresher. My southern “everything’s okay” approach simply will not do. Instead, it’s Pastor Jack Miller’s words I need: “Cheer up: You’re a worse sinner than you ever dared imagine, and you’re more loved than you ever dared hope.”3

  I return to the truth of the cross again and again because it gives me the power to admit I’m not okay on my own. And it reminds me that, in Christ, I am being made perfect and am perfectly loved. This truth helps me turn from my self-made darkness more willingly and more quickly. And it makes me want to tell everyone so they can also be set free from what binds them up inside.

  Celebration: The Practice of Praise

  David asked God to restore the joy of his salvation (Ps. 51:12). One thing that gets us in big trouble is when the beauty and power of who God is and what He has done for us fade in our minds.

  When we don’t talk to or listen to the Lord, the idea of salvation becomes theoretical. We forget how the song goes. And this forgetting leads us to singing songs of hopelessness. But when we talk to God, reminding ourselves of His faithfulness and thanking Him for both the significant and the subtle blessings, He will restore our joy—our inner smile that remains through trials.

  Our walks as believers will not be exceedingly exciting every day. Nor will we have constant courage to withstand temptation as we roam this planet. But when we are tuned to His heart, when we practice praise and thanksgiving, the thought of our salvation will bring joy as in the hour we first believed. And when we are contemplating that joy, it is much harder to believe a lesser joy might be more satisfying.

  David said that when the Lord delivered him from his sin, He would also give him the power and the joy to sing again (vv. 14–15). But not only would David’s mouth praise Him, his heart would also.

  The Lord saw David’s broken spirit and contrite heart as evidence of his true worship (v. 17). This is more than just a call to “stay humble”—this is a promise. God fills the humble heart with hope. He makes the broken spirit whole. Strength comes to the one who says, “My joy is found only in knowing You.”

  As a result, the chorus of joy that comes with repentance would continue on for David in future songs: “As far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Ps. 103:12 ESV).

  The Bigger Story

  David’s lesson reverberates through history, long after his death. His people continued to sing his song of confession and repentance, though we can infer they spent many years singing it without letting its words move them to change.

  After they turned away from God, He let their sins find them out, and their land was taken from them. But upon returning from exile, the Jews followed David’s lead in earnestly praying Psalm 51, “Do good to Zion in your good pleasure; build up the walls of Jerusalem” (v. 18 ESV). They likely sang this psalm as they rebuilt Jerusalem and resettled in Judah, knowing they could not do this work alone. Later still, those who did not forget God or His promises continued to sing this song of lament and praise through four hundred years of darkness.

  Then a greater king than David emerged to do what David could not. He Himself was tempted by Satan. But with the words written on His heart, the words of Scripture, Jesus resisted: “It is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve’” (Matt. 4:10 ESV). Jesus had come to walk among us, not only to live a perfect life, facing down every temptation, but also to pay for our wrongs by dying on a cross. And as He did, He begged God to forgive the sin of His oppressors (Luke 23:34).

  We have a greater peace than David did. We know how our sins were paid for. We walk with the One who paid for them. We are made alive, free from the darkness and heaviness of sin. Jesus has erased our certificate of debt and nailed it to the cross (Col. 2:14)!

  So we live, responding in love to Christ’s gift, not in order to be free but because if we belong to Him, we are already free. As the cross drives us to our knees, the truth of freedom takes root in our hearts, and we can’t help but sing our freedom song, loving and forgiving as we are loved and forgiven.

  Your Freedom Song

  Today we know that everything is not okay in us. Every day, we do wrong. We are tempted to live under the weight of our sin, guilt, and shame. But the Lord says we can have hope and joy if we only turn and ask. Write a song of turning and running to the Lord and of His faithfulness to forgive.

  Or write a song of praise for the freedom and wholeness you have found in Him. Here is a bit of inspiration for you:

  My sin—oh the bliss of this glorious thought—

  My sin, not in part but the whole,

  Is nailed to the Cross and I bear it no more.

  Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul!4

  God’s Song of Wholeness

  Let’s memorize David’s prayer so we too can sing it to the Lord: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Ps. 51:10 ESV).

  Let’s also memorize Christ’s words to His followers and to us about how to live in light of forgiveness: “Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses” (Mark 11:25 ESV).

  “Cry out loudly, don’t hold back! Raise your voice like a trumpet. Tell My people their transgression and the house of Jacob their sins.

  “They seek Me day after day and delight to know My ways, like a nation that does what is right and does not abandon the justice of their God. They ask Me for righteous judgments; they delight in the nearness of God.”

  “Why have we fasted, but You have not seen? We have denied ourselves, but You haven’t noticed!”

  “Look, you do as you please on the day of your fast, and oppress all your workers.…

  “Isn’t this the fast I choose: To break the chains of wickedness, to untie the ropes of the
yoke, to set the oppressed free, and to tear off every yoke?

  “Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, to bring the poor and homeless into your house, to clothe the naked when you see him, and not to ignore your own flesh and blood?

  “Then your light will appear like the dawn, and your recovery will come quickly. Your righteousness will go before you, and the LORD’s glory will be your rear guard.

  “At that time, when you call, the LORD will answer; when you cry out, He will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you get rid of the yoke among you, the finger-pointing and malicious speaking,

  and if you offer yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted one, then your light will shine in the darkness, and your night will be like noonday.

  “The LORD will always lead you, satisfy you in a parched land, and strengthen your bones. You will be like a watered garden and like a spring whose waters never run dry.”

  Isaiah 58:1–3, 6–11 HCSB

  Chapter 7

  God’s Song of Justice and Mercy

  Learning to Stand Together

  All of us can point to experiences that have greatly influenced the way we see the world. Growing up in a predominantly African American school, I learned early on to value the beauty of diversity and to seek to understand our differences. I experienced firsthand the profound power of standing together—and the jarring notes of discord that reverberate when we don’t.

  I’ve known Octavia almost since I can remember. Our parents joined forces to start a support group for parents of visually impaired children, and Octavia and I were always the oldest two kids at the meetings. So we joined forces too.

  A year older than me and with three younger brothers, Octavia is a force of nature, always ready with great ideas and the perfect comeback. I was glad she was usually on my side. When we were young, she had enough vision to report details I couldn’t see—who was wearing the cutest dress, whose hair looked a hot mess, and who snuck the most cookies during the parent meetings.

  In addition to public school, Octavia and I attended a school for blind and visually impaired students for at least part of each day. We both lived locally, but our classes were filled with kids from all over the state and from all walks of life. Those early exposures to peers with different cultures, skin colors, and life experiences shaped the way I look at the world—and the people in it.

  Regardless of our differences, we all wake up every day with the same basic needs and desires: to be seen, known, and loved and to survive and thrive in the world. Knowing that God sees not only our basic needs but also our desperate need for Him, I want to see each person this way too. Because if I do, I am much quicker to move toward others and meet whatever needs of theirs I can—and far less apt to misunderstand or dismiss them.

  Learning to meet others’ needs—to do social justice—is at the forefront of our thinking these days. Whether we’re asking how to better embrace and care for those of different races, the homeless, victims of domestic abuse, those with disabilities, or at-risk children, we are deeply passionate about these issues, defending our various positions religiously.

  It’s important to remember that God invented justice. His concern for the weak and unprotected puts all our petitions and protests, as well as our inaction, to shame. I confess that, in the past, I have taken His call to do justice and mercy as more of a recommendation than a command. But a command it is. One that, if ignored, should cause me to question whether I have faith at all.

  Facing Adversity

  During elementary school, Octavia and I discovered our mutual love of music and organized our homeroom class into a singing group. We coerced our peers into joining, though we voted them out or suspended their memberships when we didn’t like their attitudes or their singing. Sometimes we got ourselves out of classwork by entertaining our teachers with the extensive music library we could perform on the spot.

  In sixth grade, when Octavia and I realized we were the only unfireable members of our group, we officially became best friends. But sometime during our middle school years, one of our teachers predicted the demise of our friendship with words that still ring in our ears.

  “Y’all are close now, but when you get older, you won’t be. You don’t think skin color matters, but trust me, it does. Colors don’t mix. Never have, never will. You’ll find out the hard way sooner or later.”

  We promised each other she was absolutely wrong, and over our remaining school years, we learned together what friendship really meant. We saw each other through typical teen drama and more nay-saying about our friendship. I am certain all the opposition ultimately strengthened our resolve to stay close.

  But it got me thinking. I literally could not see color, but I was constantly aware of the fact that other people could. I could not understand why skin color need be someone’s defining characteristic. Sure, we were raised with different cultural experiences, but I thought that made friendship more colorful.

  Octavia and I—and so many of our other friends—experienced growing up together, not as Black, White, or Hispanic kids but as kids. We got nervous together before varsity cheerleading competitions. We cried our eyes out together as we sang for our high school principal’s funeral. We were camp counselors together and painted each other’s nails when the younger kids went to bed. I learned to love and value Octavia because of who she was—my best friend. And I learned to respect her because of all the beautiful ways she was different from me.

  Octavia and I eventually went our separate ways to college and beyond, but we have continued to walk with each other through the good and the dark days. Our lives look very different. She’s a mom managing three, and I’m doing my best to manage myself. She doesn’t have much time for singing anymore, and I still can’t stop. I wish I had soul, and she actually does.

  She’s still Black, and I’m still White. But we value our differences as much as we value the ways we’re alike. In spite of what our teacher said, our friendship has stood the test of time. And because we have learned how to walk with each other in every season, we continue to stand together now.

  God’s Chorus of Mercy and Justice

  People often think that, in the Old Testament, God is cruel, merciless, and horribly unjust. I wish I had time to unpack all the proof that this is simply untrue. But suffice it to say that, from the beginning, the Lord’s heart has always been for the poor, the broken, and the vulnerable.

  So that we can better understand God’s desire for justice and mercy, let’s get a quick big-picture glance at God’s call to the Israelites on this subject:

  • When the Lord delivered the law to Moses and the Israelites as they were wandering around on the way to the Promised Land, He described Himself as the God who “executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the [immigrant], giving him food and clothing” (Deut. 10:18).

  • He called the Israelites to love the immigrant too; they, after all, had been sojourners in the land of Egypt (Deut. 10:19).

  • He laid out various ways those in need should be served, insisting that His people lend without interest (Ex. 22:25) and that they never completely harvest their crops so the poor and the immigrant could eat by gathering what was left in the fields (Lev. 19:9–10).

  • He even promised that if people obeyed the wise laws He had laid out for them, there would be no poor people among them (Deut. 15:4–5).

  Over time, God’s people turned away from Him and His call. And as we’ve already seen, turning away from the true God leads to a turning toward other gods and an unraveling of all of life.

  With God’s guidance, King David led the people in following the Lord. But his son Solomon, though he had pious moments, was more in love with his wealth and his many wives and their gods than with the Lord. His subjects followed suit.

  After Solomon’s reign, God’s people divided into the northern kingdom (Israel) and the southern kingdom (Judah). The books of Kings and Chronicles and the books of the prophets detail how the two nations
became worse than the nations around them, not only in their atrocious pagan practices of worshipping false gods but also in how they treated one another.

  The prophet Amos, for instance, sang to the northern kingdom of Israel about how God’s judgment would come on them unless they turned to seek Him and stopped trampling the poor. Among other things, they were overtaxing those who could barely afford food, and they were building fancy houses for themselves with the profits (5:8–12). But the kingdom of Israel ignored Amos and did not stop mistreating their poor. So as God had promised, their wealth disappeared and they were destroyed in 722 BC at the hands of Assyria.

  The kingdom of Judah lasted a bit longer, with kings sprinkled in who answered the Lord’s call for true worship. But by 586 BC, after giving in to infamous practices of idol worship, unrelenting cruelty to the poor, and injustice toward the righteous, they were exiled, and Jerusalem was razed to the ground.

  Isaiah prophesied not only about the exile of God’s people and the destruction of their beloved Jerusalem but also about their eventual return to their land and what kind of kingdom they could enjoy if they followed the Lord’s ways.1 Through Isaiah, God opened to His people not only the glories of that kingdom to come but also what would result instead if Israel continued to live as they had in the past. In Isaiah 58, the Lord, knowing that history would repeat itself, painted a clear picture for Israel of His better way forward.