Faith That Sings: How to Have Fearless Joy in Days of Trouble

I’m giving away a print copy of a historical true crime novel by Liz Tolsma. So read on and leave a comment below for your chance to win!

Shadows fell all around me. The deep darkness of sorrow threatened to consume me. Coldness and pain invaded my heart. And I was afraid.

I’ve been taken through trials of many kinds in life, and I know there are many more ahead. I’m sure you’ve seen your share of tough times, too. You, like I, have walked through days of sorrow. Or, perhaps they’ve crippled you so much you haven’t been able to walk, and you’ve crawled or stumbled or kneeled.

Maybe you fear those times, like I do. Perhaps, when you’re drowning in a tough time, you fear you’ll never come up for air, never breathe in joy again, or you fear the deluge will become even worse.

During one such difficult period for me, we sang an old hymn at church that I wasn’t familiar with. One line in the lyrics cut through the darkness, the cold, and the fear—penetrating to my heart:

Faith can sing through days of sorrow.

What a powerful image. Sure, I was singing that song during my days of sorrow, but I admit I’d pretty much been going through the motions—singing words I didn’t feel. Until I saw that line.

Conviction seared my soul. I didn’t have a faith that could sing in dark times. And, really, I wondered, was that kind of faith possible for any of us?

Then I remembered the true story of two men who were wrongly convicted and beaten mercilessly. Wounded and in pain, they were then thrown into prison. This place wasn’t even as tolerable as a modern prison, but was the old, primitive kind with stocks to bind their feet.

Shadows fell around them that night. The deep darkness of sorrow threatened to consume them. Coldness and pain tried to invade their hearts. Fear lurked, trying to take control of their minds and souls.

But instead of crying themselves to sleep or staying awake because of fear, around midnight, they lifted their voices and sang to God. They weren’t just mouthing the words without meaning. No, they sang with conviction and power. They sang with great faith.

These men, Paul and Silas, sang through sorrowful circumstances, and God Himself freed them from their bonds and from the prison in jaw-dropping style (Acts 16).

How could they sing at a time like this? When I’ve gone through difficult circumstances, which I’ll admit have never come close to the kind of suffering Paul and Silas experienced, I’ve never felt like belting out praise songs to the Lord.

In such times, I struggle to hold on to the weak bit of faith I have.

But Paul and Silas, and many other Christians who have demonstrated unshakable faith and the joy that brings in the worst of times, have proved it is possible to sing through days of sorrow.

I want that. I want to have the kind of faith that yields indestructible joy in all circumstances. I want to be free from fear as much as Paul and Silas, who fearlessly drew attention to themselves and risked the wrath of prison guards to sing praises to their God.

How can you and I get that kind of faith and joy? I think the key is referenced in the following lines of the hymn I mentioned earlier, which is fittingly titled, “All Will Be Well.”

On our Father’s love relying, Jesus ev’ry need supplying.

That’s the solution, the reason we can have unshakable faith. Because we know our Father loves us with a perfect, unending love. And because we know He promises to supply our every need.

But, if you’re like I am, you might have a hard to time remembering or believing those truths when you’re going through a trial.

I think we’re all like Asaph, the psalmist who wrote,

In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.

– Psalm 77:2

Sound familiar? He even gives voice to the same desire I have:

I said, “Let me remember my song in the night;
let me meditate in my heart.”

– Psalm 77:6

And then, through the inspiration of God, he shows us how to get there—to reach that point of faith where we can sing in the darkest of times.

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
I will ponder all your work,
and meditate on your mighty deeds.

– Psalm 77:11-12

That’s how to remember the song, the joy and hope we have in Christ, in the darkest of nights. We need to remember all the wondrous things God has done for us—the evidences of His power, love, and goodness to us.

The psalmist goes on to list these deeds, examples such as God’s power seen in nature and His redemption of His people when he brought them out of slavery in Egypt.

We can look back on and ponder these mighty deeds and more, recorded for us in the Bible—the true story of Paul and Silas among them.

And we can look back on our own lives and see the evidence of God at work—His faithfulness, mercy, and grace—in our past circumstances.

These are the proofs we need to immerse ourselves in when our memories grow dim in times of trouble.

These are the evidences that give reason for our faith and form those mustard seeds of faith that will enable us to move mountains of fear out of the way with the music of our song.

We’ll be able to sing with conviction, even in days of sorrow, the words we know to be true—All will be well.

Do you struggle with worry and anxiety when you’re in hard times? How do you cling to faith and joy in the midst of trouble? Please share!

Photos by Priscilla Du Preez, Kelly Sikkema, and Larisa Birta on Unsplash. Original graphics designed by Jerusha Agen.

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I’m giving away one print copy of Liz Tolsma’s The Pink Bonnet to one of you! Simply leave a comment below to enter the giveaway! (Giveaway ends February 24, 2020; winner must have continental U. S. mailing address.)

The Pink Bonnet

A desperate mother searches for her child…

Widowed in Memphis during 1932, Cecile Dowd is struggling to provide for her three-year-old daughter. Unwittingly trusting a neighbor puts little Millie Mae into the clutches of Georgia Tann, corrupt Memphis Tennessee Children’s Home Society director suspected of the disappearance of hundreds of children.

With the help of a sympathetic lawyer, the search for Millie uncovers a deep level of corruption that threatens their very lives.

How far will a mother go to find out what happened to her child?