 Hi, this is Pastor David Rosales of Calvary Chapel of the Chino Valley, California. Psalm 34, verse 19 reads, Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. It would seem obvious that when a person determines to follow the Lord, that things they begin to encounter and to deal with may at first seem to be the most difficult obstacles that they have ever had to deal with. Instead of the road becoming smoother, sometimes the road seems to be filled with obstacles that produce pain and even discouragement. Christians can go through times that can be described as seasons of the night. We can begin to wonder where God is in all of this and even begin to think that somehow he has abandoned us along the way. It is times like this that might result in our trying to find our own way in the midst of the pain, and in doing so fail to ask the question referred to in Job 35, verse 10, where it reads, Where is God my maker who gives songs in the night? What a deep and powerful insight to consider. God is our maker, and he gives us songs in the night. Several years ago, the Christian singer Natalie Grant released a song called Held. In the lyrics of the song, she speaks of a mother losing her two-month-old baby, even as she was praying for his healing and the pain that she and her husband felt as they let their little one go. She asked the questions that we all have asked like, who told us we'd be rescued? What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares? And then she goes on to sing. We're asking why this happens to us who have died to live. It's unfair. This is what it means to be held. How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive. This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was, when everything fell, we'd be held. Some songs seem to speak deeply to your heart in a special way, like deep, calling on to deep. The lyrics sink into your soul and are met with an understanding that rises from your core, though the song may be heard for the first time. There is an unmistakable recognition, almost like an old friend entering into the room, bringing shared memories with them. I felt that kind of response the first time I heard Natalie Grant's song held. Something inside of me reverberated with understanding, especially when I heard her broken heart as she sang, when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive. I thought, what an incredibly insightful way to put it. The sacred is torn away, but you survive. There are so many things that we hold dear that over the span of a lifetime have become sacred to us, dreams and hopes, ambitions. Childish wishes that we pray one day will come true, dreams that we hold on to tightly praying and working to see that they might one day come into being, only to watch them one by one torn from our lives. We stand helpless as someone who could care less about our dreams and hopes, rips our innocence from us. One by one, we lose what was once sacred and we begin to live as hollow people, surviving as we attempt to somehow live down the shame and rebuild what has been left of our shattered lives. Some dreams die hard and when they finally die, they leave scars and inner pain that can haunt us over a lifetime and yet we survive. But at one time, we're sacred dreams can morph into nightmares that we daily find ourselves wrestling with. We begin to shelter hurtful memories even though they produce thoughts that bring sorrow and emotional pain that cannot be expressed. Eventually this becomes a fabric of our lives. Well, we slowly become convinced that this is all there is and all there ever will be. Who told us we'd be rescued? What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares is more than a line in a song. It's the question we grapple with on a daily basis. Eventually we ask why this happens to us who have died to live and finally simply whimpered to God. It's unfair. The ironic thing is it really does seem to be unfair to those who have died to live. For those who have forsaken all to follow him, it can sometimes seem incredibly unfair. We who have died to live began living a life with the purpose of honoring and serving Jesus and the result was sorrow upon sorrow. We see children growing up in a home that has no time or love for the Lord excelling, prospering, healthy, successful. We wonder about it. On the other hand, our children may die at an early age. Our hearts are crushed. They may injure us through unwise decisions, breaking our hearts and bringing pain to us while those who should have been our closest friends and stronger support became our greatest critics, leaving us when we needed their love and encouragement the most. We may begin to suffer with an incurable disease. We find ourselves in constant pain. We lose a husband or a wife to a freak accident, tragic event, unexpected illness, and our hearts break with sorrow. And as a result, we are filled with questions about the love and goodness of God. We stand next to a dying father watching as his life slowly ebbs from him, fighting back tears, trying to make sense of it, yet needing to remain calm for others as we watch the most important men in our life slip away from us. We find ourselves crying and thinking he's not gonna make it. He's leaving my mother alone for the first time in 53 years. He'll not be at the wedding of my sons and daughters. He'll never hold my grandchildren. I'll never make him laugh again. See his smile, ask for his counsel. Jesus, we're not ready to see him go. Lord, it's unfair. We stand helplessly by, as our mother experiences, one disease after another finally dies after 59 years of pain. We think, why did this have to happen this way? I became a Christian on December 27th, 1970, and over the years I've walked with the Lord, I've had many sacred things painfully torn for my life, and I have ministered to countless Christians who have experienced similar pains. Over time, I have discovered that these experiences have shaped me into the man that I am today, and I'm beginning to learn to kiss the thorns that have pierced my heart. My life is no different than anybody else's life, and everybody has a story when it comes to disappointments and hurts. This is a journey I have been made familiar with, and what I really want to do is to remind all of us of the words of the sweet psalmist of Israel, David, who said, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me. We walk through the valley, every one of us, but when we have a saving knowledge of Jesus, we do not walk alone, he's with us, and he comforts us. The one thing I am learning and that I want you to know is this, God is our maker. He gives us songs in the night, and in him, we can learn the fine art of dancing in the dark. Remember this, we are all pilgrims and sojourners. The world is not our home. We are all just passing through, and the Lord will dry every tear from our eyes. He loves you. This is David Rosales, pastor of Calvary Chapel of the Chino Valley.