I love musicals. I was delighted when the film, The Prince of Egypt, was adapted recently to a live musical in London’s West End, though I doubt I will ever get to see it. The film tells the story of Moses and the deliverance of the Israelites out of Egypt. I am fascinated by some reviewers who point out that they loved the story despite being atheists. I wonder if they realise that the exodus from Egypt into the Promised Land is the symbolic message of the gospel.

A recent viewing of the film drew my attention to a line in the powerful opening number, Deliver Us. Years of oppression are felt as the enslaved Israelites sing, “Elohim, Adonai, can You hear Your people cry? Help us now, this dark hour, deliver us!”

At the time of writing, Lebanon is recovering from a catastrophic explosion in its capital, following an extended period of unrelenting hardship exacerbated by the global pandemic. It is heartbreaking to see people living in such precarious conditions, and such is the case in other parts of the world. I imagine many are imploring God, “Deliver us!”

In my own personal grief, I have recalled the words of Ezra in Nehemiah 8:10, “the joy of the Lord is your strength“. The context of this verse involves a remnant of Israel returning, after years of exile, to a ruined Jerusalem, weeping over their transgression of God’s law. As a child, I sang those words when life was going well, but I have found them more meaningful in sorrow.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength” is never more true than when you have been utterly incapacitated by circumstances and empowered only by the grace of God. The joy may not manifest itself in anything you might experience today or ever in this life, but we have a perfect example in our Lord Jesus, “who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2). To share in the suffering of Christ, knowing it is but for a moment, and glory in His resurrection, knowing it is for eternity, mitigates the sorrow and dignifies the resolve to run the race with endurance.

The late apologist Ravi Zacharias, in a Q&A session, said, “Having the source of happiness and having a life without any sadness are not the same thing…If you can look at the situation through the lens of God, that temporary sorrow is transcended by the greater joy of knowing God and the life we have beyond the grave with Him.”

Nothing that life can give nor death can take will ever exceed the joy of knowing Him who has defeated death and in whom is life everlasting. And so, by His grace, we will wait, we will endure, we will persevere, we will fight the good fight, and, when the pattern of the grand design is revealed, we will understand it better by and by.

About a month after my brother’s passing, I wrote a song. The first verse and chorus are as follows:

Faithful when we can see clearly,
Thankful when blessings abound,
Running and not growing weary,
When our feet are safe on the ground.
But where is our faith in dark places?
In poverty, where is our praise?
In order to know what true grace is,
We must learn to walk on the waves.

The heat of the desert, the chill of the rain,
When we are brought down to our knees,
In sorrow, in darkness, in heartbreak, and pain,
Faith is for moments like these.