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.

Leviticus is not the easiest book to read or understand. If the Bible were a marathon, Leviticus would be the mile where many well-intentioned runners drop out. We start off strong in Genesis, captivated by the creation narrative and the dramatic lives of the patriarchs. Exodus keeps the momentum going with its epic tales of plagues, parted seas, and divine encounters on mountaintops. But then we reach Leviticus—a dense forest of laws about sacrifices, skin diseases, and dietary restrictions. It’s as if our riveting novel suddenly turns into a technical manual for ancient priests, filled with terminology and measurements that we can only guess at. A cubit is roughly the length of an arm—but whose arm?

What if Leviticus isn’t a detour but, as John Piper would say, “a hidden gem waiting for discovery”? What if, beneath its layers of ancient rituals, rules, and regulations, lies a profound message about holiness, grace, and redemption that speaks directly to us today?

When you begin reading the Bible, it’s like embarking on an exhilarating road trip through the scenic landscapes of Scripture. You experience the awe-inspiring peaks of Genesis and the dramatic valleys of Exodus. Then, without warning, you find yourself in a seemingly endless desert called Leviticus. The temptation to speed through—or better yet, find an alternate route—is real.

But deserts often hold treasures not found elsewhere. Sometimes, the most unexpected places reveal truths that reshape our entire journey.

When we turn over the first pages of Leviticus, we need to tackle its big theme head-on: holiness. “Holy” might conjure images of austere saints like Augustine, Luther, or Calvin, or suggest unreachable standards. But at its core, holiness means being “set apart.” It’s less about halos and more about heart posture. It has more to say to you and about you than you may realise.

In Leviticus, God essentially tells the Israelites, “I’ve rescued you from Egypt, not just so you can wander aimlessly, but so you can be a people who reflect who I am.” He calls them to be different—not for the sake of being different, but to embody a way of life that points back to Him, acting as “mirror-images.”

Imagine being an Israelite back then. Your neighbours engage in all sorts of dubious practices—idol worship, exploitative rituals, you name it. But you’re called to live differently, to march to the beat of a different drummer. It’s not about arbitrary rules; it’s about embracing an identity rooted in a relationship with the divine. People face similar challenges today with social media and the other distractions of entertainment and cultural engagement.

The Grace Hidden in the Regulations

At first glance, Leviticus might seem like a rulebook written by someone who really loves rules—like, really loves rules. But if you look closer, it’s less about regulation and more about restoration—ensuring we do not lose the good that we have.

Take the sacrificial system, for example. Yes, there are detailed instructions for offerings and rituals, but behind every sacrifice stands a God who desires reconciliation with His people. Every sacrifice, offering, and ritual is an opportunity not just to put things right but for relationships to be restored. The sacrifices aren’t hoops to jump through; they are necessary bridges back to a relationship fractured by wrongdoing.

Consider the Day of Atonement—an essential yearly ‘reset button’ for the entire nation. This profound ritual uses two goats-one is sacrificed, symbolising the payment for sin – and the other, the “scapegoat,” carries the people’s sins deep into the wilderness, symbolically removing their transgressions. It’s a powerful picture of both justice and mercy. It was God’s provision and initiative – who would have guessed it?

Sound familiar? It should, because it foreshadows something—or rather, Someone—far greater.

A Sneak Peek of What’s to Come

Here’s where things get interesting; Leviticus isn’t just an ancient handbook (or rather, a scroll); it’s a preview of the main feature—Jesus Christ.

Every single, solitary sacrifice, every priestly duty, every ritual purity law acts as a signpost earnestly gesturing and pointing forward. The sacrificial lambs? They hint at the ultimate Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The high priest entering the Holy of Holies? A precursor to our Great High Priest, who enters not just a man-made sanctuary but heaven itself on our behalf, not every year but just once – and sites down – settling things once and for all.

The writer of Hebrews puts it brilliantly: all these rituals were “a shadow of the good things to come” (Hebrews 10:1, ESV). They set the stage for the grand narrative of redemption that finds its climax in Jesus.

From Obligation to Invitation

So, what does all this mean for us today? Do we need to dust off our copies of Leviticus and start following dietary laws? Not quite, and to be fair, who wants to?

Understanding Leviticus through the 4K HD lens of Jesus transforms our approach to holiness. It’s no longer about ticking numerous boxes to earn favour (it never was)but responding to the grace we’ve already received, that’s been lavished on us (scripture please).

Peter echoes this when he writes, “But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do” (1 Peter 1:15, ESV). Holiness becomes less about duty and more about identity. It’s about becoming who we were always meant to be. God is always at work redemptively with us.

If grace is the vast ocean we’ve been plunged into, holiness is learning to swim in its depths. It’s an ongoing journey of transformation, empowered by a relationship, not enforced by regulations.

Walking the Talk

How does this ancient book impact our 21st-century lives today with all the challenges and conflicts we face in life?

Firstly, it challenges us to consider what it means to be set apart in our context. In a world that often blurs moral lines and celebrates the “me first” mentality, living differently isn’t just countercultural—it’s revolutionary.

Being holy might look like choosing integrity over convenience, generosity over greed, and forgiveness over bitterness. It’s about letting our lives reflect the immense grace we’ve received.

Secondly, it invites us to embrace grace more fully. Recognising that we can’t achieve holiness through sheer willpower and determination frees us from striving. Instead, we rely on the One who has already bridged the gap – for us.

The Beauty in the Details

Sometimes, the smallest details in a story carry the most weight. Leviticus brims and overflows with such details, and when we take the time to unpack them, we discover multiple layers of meaning. An easy example is the meticulous instructions for the Tabernacle weren’t because God is meticulously fussy about interior design. Each element symbolised aspects of His character and His relationship with His people. The lampstand, the bread of the Presence, the altar of incense—all point to deeper spiritual truths. Everything would make you think.

It’s like a divine tapestry where every solitary thread contributes to the overall masterpiece.

Rediscovering the Wonder

Perhaps the real issue isn’t that Leviticus is boring but that we’ve lost our sense of wonder and purpose. We’ve become so accustomed to the grand narratives that we overlook the beauty in the intricate.

Leviticus invites us to slow down, ponder, and delve into the mystery of a God who is both transcendent and immanent—utterly holy yet intimately involved in the details of our lives.

It’s like listening to a complex piece of music. At first, it might seem overwhelming or monotonous. But as we tune in, we start to notice the harmonies, the interplay of instruments, the crescendos and the augmented and diminished chords. What seemed inaccessible becomes enthralling, captivating, thrilling and inspiring. That’s what the Word of God is like if you give it a chance!

Embracing the Tension

Navigating the tension between holiness and grace can feel like walking a tightrope. Lean too far one way, and “whoops!” you risk legalism; lean the other, and you slip into “yawn!” complacency.

But perhaps tension isn’t something to resolve but to embrace. After all, a guitar string only produces music when it’s under 443mhz tension – and in tune. Leviticus holds this tension beautifully. It presents a God who is uncompromising in His holiness yet unfathomable in His grace. A God who sets high standards but provides the means to meet them through just Himself.

An Unexpected Adventure

Maybe Leviticus isn’t the roadblock we thought it was, maybe it’s more like an unexpected detour that leads to breath-taking vistas we wouldn’t have encountered otherwise, and so what if we approached it not with dread but with anticipation? What treasures might we uncover? What insights might we gain about God, ourselves, and the grand story we’re part of?

A Challenge and an Invitation

We have a challenge before us to revisit Leviticus, not as a tedious obligation but as an adventure, to ask questions, wrestle with the difficult passages, and seek to understand the heart behind the laws. In doing so, we may very well find that the God who seemed distant and demanding is actually drawing us into a profoundly deeper relationship. We also might discover that holiness isn’t a heavy burden but a gift—a way of living that brings freedom, purpose, and joy.

As we continue our journey through Scripture, we don’t need to skim or skip the challenging parts – they’re often the best part of the roast meat – where the richest lessons lie. Leviticus may require meticulous and patient digging, but the gems you find are worth the effort.

The Bible isn’t a collection of isolated books but a cohesive, deliberate, intentional narrative that points us straight at Jesus. Every law, prophecy, poem, and letter contributes to the tapestry of God’s love-inspired Christ-glorifying act of redemption.

Allow the Scriptures—even the tough bits—to shape us, challenge us, and draw us closer to the One who inspired them.

Stepping Into the Story

In the end, Leviticus isn’t just about ancient rituals; it’s about a timeless God inviting us into His story. A God who cares about the details, who provides a way when there seems to be none, and who calls us to be part of something bigger than ourselves.

The next time you find yourself trudging through its pages, pause and wisely consider: What might God be saying to me here? How does this connect to the bigger picture? And how might understanding this deepen my relationship with Him?

Who knows? You might just find that Leviticus becomes one of your favourite stops on the journey—a place where the sacred meets the everyday, and where ancient words breathe new life into our modern world.

Embrace the adventure. Dive into the mystery. The journey is just beginning.