Hope from Darkness

One insidious aspect of the darkness that surrounds us in this fallen world is that it makes us blind (1 John 2:11). The darkness makes us blind to the darkness. We get used to it, distracted and lulled into complacency. We become numb and hardened to the scale and scope of the menace.

The dark makes us behave as if we are drunk or asleep or even dead. We become unseeing, uncaring, confused, and aimless. We become casual toward sin, neglectful toward love, hard-hearted toward others’ plights, and lax toward self-care and soul care.

And then, and then, dark voices offer help. They whisper, suggesting that our problems can be solved by devoting more hours to work, or by putting more money into our bank accounts, or by distraction and escape, or bitterness and isolation. They lure us to self-medicate with work, food, sex, pornography, gambling, alcohol, prescription painkillers, and illicit drugs.

Of course, these dark solutions are only meant to take us deeper into the darkness. The darkness lulls us into complacency: This is just how things are. This is how the world is. The night sings us back to sleep: This is who you are. None of this is going to change.

And we lose heart. We put our heads down. We grind. Going nowhere. Rather than getting better, we settle for getting by. Rather than overcoming sin, moving beyond it, beyond unhealthy habits, escaping unhealthy relationships, we simply narrow our lives and try to get used to the dark, to endure the pain and dislocation. We settle for stuck and lost and empty. We manage our pain. We survive the day, but just barely.

We become imposters too, hiding our deep needs and dark deeds, obscuring our problems rather than dealing with them. Instead of learning how to hurt other people less—and ourselves too—we isolate ourselves. We become workaholics. Heavy drinkers. Porn addicts. Exhausted insomniacs.

And when anyone asks how we’re doing, it’s “Things are good. Thanks for asking.”

Desperate ambition. Desperate anger. Desperate addiction. Desperate sin.

Quiet men, desperate for rescue.

Yet there is hope.

In the days before the Last Supper, prior to his death and resurrection, Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and the people hailed his entry. “Hosanna in the highest!”

Hosanna is a Greek word meaning “save, we pray” or “oh, save now!” or “please save!” The shouts echoed the groans of all creation.

And that was exactly why Jesus was there. 

He felt our hearts aching, and his heart hurt too. So he came with urgency and purpose and overwhelming might. 

He brought the cavalry. He led the charge. He came to “rescue us from the present evil age” (Gal. 1:4). “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).