What do you do when God hides His face? Psalm 88 presents a similar challenge and, to be blunt, is one of the most jarring and raw passages in all of Scripture. Our place is not to avoid it, though. There is no uplifting ending, no bright turn towards hope—just a desperate cry from someone drowning in darkness. In a world that constantly pushes messages of triumph, quick fixes, and instant victory, this psalm forces us to confront something we often wish to avoid: sometimes, the darkness lingers. It’s not the usual attention-grabbing, emotive beginning you might expect from a blog—but there is hope and good news to be found.
The Honesty of Suffering
As we approach this psalm, it is unsettling to hear the psalmist end with such heart-wrenching words: “You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness” (v. 18). It leaves us uncomfortable because, deep down, we want our faith to be like a light switch that instantly drives out the shadows. But Psalm 88 does not offer that. Instead, it gives us something even more real: the honesty of suffering.
The Reality of Darkness
We anticipate and expect the Bible to speak hope into every situation—and it does, but not always in the way we think. This psalm confronts us with the reality that sometimes, even for the most faithful, darkness remains. Heman, the psalmist on this occasion, begins his cry with, “O Lord, God of my salvation; I cry out day and night before you” (v. 1), showing us that this is not the prayer of a man who has lost his faith. Quite the opposite—he’s holding on. But what do you do when you’ve held on, and the darkness doesn’t lift, remains, and closes in?
Many of us have been there. You may be there now. We’ve prayed, fasted, read Scripture, and done everything “right,” yet we feel abandoned. Sometimes we don’t want to label it “depression,” but it’s how it feels. If you’ve ever been in that place where your prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling, where no amount of effort shifts the heaviness, then you can relate to the heavy heart of this psalm. Heman cries out “day and night before you” (v. 1), but the silence is deafening, with no echo. This is a man who knows God, who loves and reveres Him, and yet the darkness lingers. But it’s not a sign of failure or weak faith—it’s the reality that sometimes, even for the most devoted, suffering persists.
Faith in Silence
We’re often told that if we seek God, He’ll show up. But what happens in those moments when we seek eagerly, earnestly, and all we get is silence? When we knock, and the heavy door stays firmly shut?
Psalm 88 forces us to confront these difficult questions head-on. Make no mistake, Jesus is acquainted with this and would have sung this psalm often. It challenges the idea that faith is a quick escape from trouble. Jesus Himself warned us that in this world, we would have trouble (John 16:33). Even the Apostle Paul, as bold in faith as they come, admitted that he was “so utterly burdened beyond his strength that he despaired of life itself” (2 Corinthians 1:8). The Bible doesn’t shy away from this. It tells us, again and again, that the darkness is real—and sometimes, it doesn’t go away as quickly as we’d like.
Grace in the Darkness
But here’s where we need to pause, draw a breath, and let that truth sink in. The lingering darkness doesn’t mean we’ve failed—not at all. It doesn’t mean our faith is defective or like an old battery, simply depleted. No, it’s just part of the brokenness we experience in this life. Heman’s darkness wasn’t a result of rebellion or sin. He wasn’t being punished; the Holy Spirit was inspiring this ‘different’ song. He was simply in a season of deep suffering. We need to embrace this realism—a glimpse of “how things really are”—because when we expect that faith will always lead to instant relief, we set ourselves up for disappointment. When the night stretches longer than we anticipated, that false expectation can crush us.
God Can Handle Our Pain
Thankfully, Psalm 88 also reveals something powerful—there’s grace in the darkness. It may not feel like it at first, but it’s there. Heman’s words are bold, almost accusatory: “Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise you?” (v. 10). It’s a sharp, frustrated cry from a weary heart, yet the very fact that these words are in the Bible tells us something remarkable about God. He is not fragile. He’s not put off by our honest, messy prayers. He can handle our anger, our grief, and our doubt. And He doesn’t turn away from us because of it. Heman’s prayer is filled with confusion and seeming frustration, but it’s still a prayer—and God listens. God always listens when we call out to Him.
Endurance in the Silence
God’s grace is not something we earn by coming to Him with perfect words or a well-packaged faith. His grace meets us right in the middle of our brokenness. When we feel like we have nothing left but our cries, His grace is still there, holding us. We don’t need to sanitise our prayers or hide our pain. We don’t need to pretend everything is fine—either to God or to each other. God is big enough to carry the full weight of our sorrow, and He welcomes us even when our prayers are desperate, raw, unpolished, and filled with questions.
So, what do we do when the silence stretches on? What do we do when we’ve prayed and still feel like God is nowhere to be found? The answer is not too far away. Heman gives us a profound example of endurance that leads to a much-needed and desperate breakthrough. Even in his deepest despair, the singer continues to cry out to God. He doesn’t turn away. Yes, he says, “You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness” (v.18), but he says it straight to God. That’s important. It’s a powerful reminder that even when we feel like we’re talking into the void, we keep talking. Even when God seems silent, we keep reaching for Him, trusting Him, and believing in Him despite our circumstances.
Faith That Grows in Darkness
This kind of endurance, this refusal to turn away from God, is where real spiritual maturity begins to take shape in our tender hearts. Obviously, it’s easy to seek God when everything is going well, but in the darkness, when He feels far off—that’s when our faith deepens as we reach out to Him. It’s in these moments that we stop seeking God just for what He can give us and start seeking Him for who He is. Faith that persists in ‘the silence’ is faith that grows deep, deep roots. It’s the remarkable kind of faith that doesn’t depend on what we feel but trusts in the goodness and promises of God, even when everything around us suggests otherwise.
The Hope Beneath the Darkness
The hope that lies beneath the surface of Psalm 88, though darkness may feel overwhelming, is that it is never the end. Heman initially felt as though the darkness had swallowed him whole, but his suffering was not the final word—far from it. In fact, Heman’s life was one of significance. He was a leader in worship, a composer of psalms, and his words have comforted countless believers throughout history. His pain, real as it was, did not mark the end of his story—and it will not mark the end of yours either.
How can I say that with confidence? The ultimate proof is found in Jesus. He entered into the deepest darkness imaginable—abandoned on the cross, crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). But that was not the end. On the third day, He rose, conquering death and darkness forever. Because of Christ, we can be certain that no matter how dark things get, it is not the final word—His is the final word. The cross reminds us that even in the deepest suffering, God is at work. He has not left us. He has not abandoned us. He is there for us.
Light in the Gospel
Admittedly, Psalm 88 leaves us in the dark, but the gospel tells us that the light is coming—and has come. The darkness you are facing might seem unbearable, but it will not last forever. Christ has defeated it, and as we look forward, one day every tear will be wiped away, and every sorrow swallowed up in joy.
What then do we do with Psalm 88 as Christians? We embrace its honesty. We let it remind us that faith is not about always feeling close to God; it is about holding onto His promises, even when we cannot see the way forward.
And we trust that, even in the deepest darkness, He is holding onto us.
