When Hope Dies

As I enter this time of prayer, I repeat the words of Psalm 57:1, slowly, several times, making them my prayer to God:

‘Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge.

I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.’

Pause and repeat

Pause to read the passage Matt. 27:57–60

‘No one really talks about Holy Saturday, yet if we stop and think about it, it’s where most of us live most of our lives. Holy Saturday is the no-man’s land between questions and answers, prayers uttered and miracles to come. It’s where we wait—with a peculiar mixture of faith and despair—whenever God is silent or life doesn’t make sense’*

Joseph of Arimathea’s service to the body of Christ could have seemed a bit … pointless. Is there anything very practical that I can do to serve Jesus today, even if it is unnoticed or seems a bit unnecessary?

Pause and reflect

Ask the Lord: I take a little time now to admit any ways in which I feel that my hope has died, asking the Lord to do what seems impossible in spite of my gloom.

Pause and pray

As I bring this time with God to a close, I pray a prayer of costly worship by songwriter Matt Redman:

Blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering,

Though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be Your name.

You give and take away, You give and take away,

My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name.

Amen.

*Pete Greig, God on Mute, David C Cook, (Colorado Springs, 2020), p208