Embracing mercy in the deep, dark woods.

by Kathleen Barrett 

American poet Robert Frost penned the poem “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.” The last stanza is haunting:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Along a Christian’s sacred journey, we may endure a season of extreme dread, loss, or loneliness. The forest grows darker, drawing us into an almost comforting solitude. We may contemplate lingering in the dark woods of despair. I know; I once was there.

One never intends to get that close to entering the secret, isolated place of self-soothing or self-pity, yet it seems so lovely to steal away and forget the pain of our circumstances. We promise ourselves that it is just for a little while. But then days turn into weeks, weeks to months and sometimes years.

And then, as the light of hope pierces the darkness of discontent on this solitary journey, a decision must be made. We can either cling to self-imposed hopelessness or look forward to the miles ahead and the promises we must keep. And though we may have experienced the “bread of adversity and the water of affliction” (Isaiah 30:20), the prophet reminds us of the Lord’s gracious way out: “And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it’” (v. 21). We can escape the dark woods and enter into freedom and healing by obeying God’s leading.

Promises and miles

Frost’s poem is set somewhere in New England, where, on one lovely, snowy evening, he and his “little horse” linger to see the woods fill with white, icy crystals of wonder. Frost stays there long enough to contemplate the mystery of the woods. Suddenly, he senses promises he was to keep and the miles he had to go before he would sleep.

The biblical term for death is sleep. As Christ’s followers, do we dare linger too long in despair’s deep, dark woods before we depart this life? Be assured: The Lord has promises for us that He must keep in the meantime, along the miles we go before we die. The dark is temporary; the light is eternal, even in the waiting.

If you are in a waiting period, praying to find your way out of the darkness or waiting for your miracle, use that time to talk to God. Shout to Him as though He is deaf. Thank Him because He is listening with both ears. Cry to Him as though He doesn’t care. Praise Him because He does!

We cry out, and in His time, He leads us out. But we must beware of getting stuck in these dark woods. Jesus warns in the parable of the sower, “As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world . . . choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22). If we wallow in them, the cares of this world, the trials of this life, will choke out the word and joy of Jesus that sustain us through dark times. They can harden and finally silence the cry of a broken and contrite heart.

But even here, in God’s mercy, He extends a helping hand to the least of us — the sinners saved by grace, the ones lost in the woods and too afraid to fight their way out. We can become comfortable and complacent in our grief, fear, and brokenness. We can become deaf to the very purposes of the cross of Calvary: forgiveness, freedom, healing, and change.

When we receive the call of the Holy Spirit, God makes us righteous in Christ Jesus. That never changes. What constantly changes are our circumstances, attitudes, and people in our lives that can lead us into the dark woods. Our response to this unexpected detour will determine how long or difficult it will be to find the path out.

The way out

Recently, my daughter and her children walked through a heavily wooded park they had never been to. They met a stranger along the way. She appeared out of nowhere, barefoot, a bit bedraggled, and talkative. She assured my daughter that she knew the way out of the park. They followed her but gradually realized they were off course in this stranger’s direction.

This reminds me of what Jesus said and why it is so critical: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). When we come to know Christ through a personal relationship (prayer, worship, Scripture study, and understanding of the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives), we develop discernment and follow Him because we know His voice.

There is more good news: God will never leave nor forsake us. When we wander or are forced into a deep, dense, dark thicket of the unknown, we can remember that the Lord has given us a compass — the Holy Spirit — to find our way out.

Let’s consider, for instance, the cardinal points of a compass: North, East, South, and West. In the darkest of hours, the compass points due north. We may think of this as the need for forgiveness and freedom from guilt. In the unexpected seasons of life, the compass may point east, offering peace amid the shadows of uncertainty. Anxious thoughts may lead the direction south, where soundness of mind needs to dispel the spirit of fear. If we go west, the Holy Spirit helps us take those courageous steps out of the darkness. Here, hope arises, bringing healing and healthy change. The woods may be dark and deep, but, like Frost, we may find momentary beauty and solace. Like Frost, we realize there is no time to linger with miles ahead, and God’s promises He will keep.