Hard Times? How to Hear God’s Song Louder Than Any Hard Times

Ann Voskamp | 5/20/2019 | Staff
shardonayshardonay (Posted by) Level 3
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After a few appointments, my grief-counselor said this: “I’d like you to think of suffering as an invitation.

You have two choices: Continue to pretend like it doesn’t exist, which clearly isn’t working, or accept the offer.”


I am currently unwilling to take this cup.

What precisely does this invitation mean? How difficult will it be to accept?

Glimpse - Answer - Friend - Choir - Concert

I catch my first glimpse of the answer when a friend invites me to a choir concert. I could use a night out, a night off from the weight of health issues, mourning the death of family, and chronic pain.

The performance takes place in this cool little theater-in-the-round in downtown Chicago. We grab our seats just as the lights dim, and a large projector screen descends from the ceiling.

Choir - Members - Walk - Stage - Dirge

Choir members clothed in all black walk onto the stage and start to sing a slow, sad, ancient funeral dirge.

“I’ve been looking for God to show up, and He hasn’t.”

Screen - Trigger - Warning - Series - Images—a

Meanwhile, the screen flashes a trigger warning, then cycles through a series of raw images—a starving mother and baby; a child soldier; lands ravaged by famine; high school students participating in a walkout; a funeral; and other visual depictions of pain, poverty, and corruption.

The mood in the theater, previously expectant, excited for the concert to begin, soon grows sorrowful and heavy. Why did we come here tonight?


I think. This is a mistake.

What my friend and I don’t realize is that while we watch this depressing performance in front of us, a second choir has silently filed into the room and surrounded the entire audience. Quite unexpectedly, they raise their voices and begin to sing over us.

Song - Days - U2 - Refrain

I immediately recognize their song from my adolescent days, a classic U2 refrain: “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

As I listen to the familiar words, a thought begins to gently poke...
(Excerpt) Read more at: Ann Voskamp
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