Light at the End of the Tunnel?
Everything seems to be running fast. In this age of information, where updates are constant and opinions unending, it's easy to feel overwhelmed.
We ask ourselves: Who will be our next president? When will this illness pass? Will my grandson ever find salvation?
The questions pile on. The noise in our heads grows louder, the pitch rises, and irritation sets in. It seems like nothing is improving. Joy feels distant. And when we fall into sin, our spiritual zeal gets drained.
We find ourselves stuck in a pit of distress, surrounded by the weight of despair. We cry out, Where is God? Isn't He the Creator of all things?
"Cut down the fig tree of lies..."
The shadows of our circumstances overpower us. We forget our primary source of focus—the One who gives meaning, hope, and joy.
This is not a call to ignorance. We should not ignore the reality around us. But both the sin within and the enemy without have clouded our vision. They’ve blinded us to the clear evidence of God’s presence, displayed daily in our lives.
We fall into their traps and forget who truly gives joy—our Lord and Master. Sadness is real. Depression is real. We can't pretend otherwise. But turning to temporary solutions won’t sustain us. You can’t buy joy at a liquor store, and your secular therapist—while helpful—can’t guide you to its true source.
Scripture names more than one source of blindness. There is the enemy: “the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers” (2 Corinthians 4:4). There is our own sin, which hardens us through “the deceitfulness of sin” (Hebrews 3:13). And there is the constant noise of our age: the news cycle, the group chats, the comparison of our ordinary lives with everyone else’s highlights. Jesus said, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself” (Matthew 6:34). Much of our anxiety comes from carrying tomorrow today.
Bringing your sorrow to God is not a lack of faith. A third of the Psalms are laments. “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1). “Why are you cast down, O my soul?” (Psalm 42:5). God put these words in His book so that we would have words when we have none.
When Elijah sat under the broom tree and asked to die, God did not lecture him. He let him sleep, fed him twice, and then spoke to him in a low whisper (1 Kings 19:4–12). Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is rest, eat and wait on the Lord.
We need more than coping mechanisms. We need the One who created us—who formed every fiber of our being and understands us deeply.
Yes, depression is real. So is grief. Losing someone hurts. But we can’t exist in wholeness without acknowledging that our Creator is real too.
He calls us to Himself, offering eternal joy that time cannot erode. The prophet Habakkuk once said:
"Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation."
— Habakkuk 3:17–18
Where else can we turn but into the arms of our Lord? We must feed on His living Word, not shift our hearts from one distraction to another.
He stands with open arms, calling us into eternal salvation. This world, in all its chaos, is not the end. He promises a new and better world—a New Jerusalem where pain, sorrow, and death will be no more.
"Death, where is your sting?"
— 1 Corinthians 15:55
There is a light at the end of this eternity. It is not just a vague hope—it is a person. Jesus Christ, the God of our salvation.
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