Today, December 21, is the Winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. The darkness which has been building in duration reaches its zenith tonight. But then, almost imperceptibly, the days begin to lengthen as the sun slowly starts to take charge over the dominion of darkness.

I needed that reminder today– that sorrow may tarry but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5)– That no season, no struggle lasts forever or outpaces God’s immeasurable love and grace for His children.

You see, as I have been wrapping presents, I’ve been fighting back tears. As everyone is posting their years “wrapped,” I have had to fight the strong temptation to want to neatly wrap up a year that has felt anything but neat, tidy, or predictable. I want so desperately to have a moment of epiphany–of supernatural clarity– that suddenly makes sense of a season which has been mostly marked by heaviness and powerlessness. As someone wrestling deeply through a hard season internally (processing past experiences, entrusting present needs, and fighting future fears), I’ve been fighting hard to contain my sadness so it doesn’t diminish the surrounding Christmas cheer. As I carefully curl the ribbons on gifts for my sons, I want a bow to cover up the brokenness of deep disappointments and lingering confusion.

Especially at Christmas, it seems to takes courage to be where God has you and to let the story unfold. Things don’t always wrap up tidily just in in time for the year-in-review or the Christmas cards. The cards have space for highlights and provision, but not nearly enough space for the sorrows and pains. There are worlds going on under those scant words on the seasonal cards– questions unanswered, stacking prayers that seem to go unheard, needs still crying to be met, longings still deferred.

Today on a Winter Solstice that aligns perfectly with the state of my soul, I have been helped by Paul’s words of both raw authenticity and real reassurance to the Corinthians. After reminding them that God is the “Father of mercies and God of all comfort,” Paul peels back the curtain to reveal how he learned this reality experientially (2 Corinthians 1:3):

“For we do not want you to unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again” (2 Corinthians 1:8–10).

For Paul to say that he despaired even of life itself is no small admission. Paul was incredibly strong, both in body and soul. He bore countless burdens with burgeoning faith, but, here, he admits that this particular burden got the better of him. Winter solstice. Deep darkness that seems hopeless.

Yet, the tide turned. It doesn’t stay December 21st. The God who raises the dead caused his spirit to quicken and buttressed his buckling faith. The experience he thought might undo him served to strengthen his faith and deepen his storehouses of comfort from God to offer to others (2 Corinthians 1:4–7). Paul could speak with authority, empathy, and experiential faith to the Corinthians because God got him through his own Winter Solstice.

And yet, Paul also understood that as he placed his hope fully on Christ, he also relied upon the help of the body of Christ. Directly after saying, “On him we have set our hope,” Paul continues by saying the following:

“You must also help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Corinthians 1:11).

Hope set on God and reliance on the help of others are’t mutually exclusive. Paul understood that God’s provision came through the very means of the prayers of the saints. So, if you are experiencing a winter soul-stice, please reach out to your people for help even as you place your hope fully on God who raises the dead. God loves to provide strength, hope, provision, perspective, and wisdom through his people so that “many will give thanks.” Multiplied need means multiplied prayers of multiplied people which means multiplied praise to God when he provides. He gets the glory; we get the fortified faith.

I don’t know when the tides with change on your circumstances, but Christmas season is the time to remember that those who dwelt in deep darkness have seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2). Listen to how Zechariah sang of the Savior to whom his own son would point:

“Because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78–79).

Your darkness may be deep, and the sun may seem far off. But the sunrise from on high has visited us in the person of Christ. He promises to return and force the sun into a succession plan in light of his radiance. May the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ be enough to illumine your darkness. Tomorrow is a new day with new mercies, and your God is the Father of all mercies.