In the Shadows of the Soul

There are seasons in life when joy in God feels like a memory. The songs that once came easily now stick in our throat. The Scriptures once vibrant now blur before our eyes. The morning light itself feels heavier. What once thrilled the soul now barely stirs it.

If you've walked with Christ long enough, you know this place. It’s the space where spiritual darkness lingers, and the soul feels disoriented, almost foreign to itself. You’re not alone. Scripture gives language to this darkness and even more, it gives us hope within it.

Shades of Darkness

Spiritual darkness doesn’t come in one form. It may arrive wrapped in grief, cloaked in doubt, buried in guilt, or heavy with loss. Sometimes we know exactly what triggered it. Other times, it descends without warning. One day, the sun seems to fall from the sky, and we're left blinking in confusion.

That was the psalmist’s experience in Psalms 42 and 43. He wrestles with a downcast soul, a crushed spirit, and wave after wave of unanswered questions. Ten times, he pleads with “Why?” a word that echoes through his grief like a lonely bell. His enemies taunt him: “Where is your God?” And tragically, he doesn’t have a quick answer.

Yet even in that spiritual shadow, we hear something profound. He still speaks of God as “my exceeding joy” (Psalm 43:4). That line alone changes everything. It tells us that biblical joy is not the absence of sorrow. It is a song that can whisper even in the deepest dark.

“I Remember”

For many, memory becomes an enemy during these seasons. We remember how full our hearts once felt how freely we worshipped, how powerful our prayers, how close God seemed. Now, those memories feel like cruel reminders of what we’ve lost.

But the psalmist treats memory differently. Yes, he mourns. But he also lets memory stir his longing:

“As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”
(Psalm 42:1–2)

This is not hopeless nostalgia. This is hunger. He remembers joy not to despair over its absence, but to crave its return. Even that hunger however faint is evidence of spiritual life.

As John Piper once wrote, “A Christian, no matter how dark the season of his sadness, never is completely without joy in God… there remains in his heart the seed of joy in the form, perhaps, of only a remembered taste of goodness.”

If your soul sighs at the memory of better days, don’t ignore it. Let it fuel your thirst. Let it tell you that joy can live again.

“I Declare”

In the thick of the psalmist’s anguish, he says something astonishing:

“Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.”
(Psalm 42:5)

It’s a bold statement, especially when the present looks nothing like praise. But here’s the key: he doesn’t ground his hope in himself he anchors it in God. Not “I will fix this,” but “He is my God.”

Even when God feels distant, the psalmist still calls Him “the living God,” “the God of my life,” and “my rock.” Faith, even in darkness, declares ownership of God. He is still mine.

For the believer in Christ, this is more than poetic language. It is covenantal truth. God’s love doesn’t vanish in the valley. It may not feel loud, but it is always there commanding His steadfast love, sending songs by night (Psalm 42:8), sustaining faith when it flickers like a wick.

And so, even through tears, you can say, “I shall again praise Him.” Not because you feel strong, but because He remains faithful.

“I Defy”

What do we do today, in this hour, when the weight of spiritual darkness presses in again?

We defy it.

Three times in these psalms, the writer preaches to his soul: “Hope in God!” This is not shallow positivity. This is warfare. This is defiant joy.

Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, preaching on this passage, once said, “Defy yourself, and defy other people, and defy the devil and the whole world, and say with this man: ‘I shall yet praise him.’”

Dawn doesn’t break all at once. Sometimes, it comes slowly, like a creeping light. And sometimes, we must defy the dark for a month, or a year, or longer. But the promise remains: God will send out His light and His truth, and they will guide you to Him again (Psalm 43:3). He will be your exceeding joy.

The Joy Still Lives

Spiritual darkness may be part of the Christian journey, but it is not the end of it. Those who belong to Christ carry a joy that is not dependent on emotion, energy, or clarity. It is rooted in a Person who never changes.

So don’t silence your questions. Cry them out, as the psalmist did. But don’t let them have the last word. Remember what God has done. Declare who He is. Defy the despair. And hold on, even if by a thread, to the truth that one day maybe sooner than you expect you shall again praise Him.

And when you do, it will not be shallow joy. It will be joy that has survived the night. Joy that has battled sorrow. Joy that knows what it means to cling in the dark and find Him faithful.

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