26/09/2026
When you choose to worship God in your darkest night, you draw strength from heaven to rise above the valley of the shadow.
I remember when we were at the burial site for my wife’s funeral. I made sure I brought my guitar with me.
The people who stood with me that morning will never forget what happened. I wasn’t trying to put on a performance. I simply gathered everyone, picked up my guitar, and began to lead worship right there in the middle of my deepest sorrow.
I was praising God through tears. My voice was trembling, but something rose from deep within me:
“God, You are so good. You are so good to me.”
Then came the moment to say the final rites and lay her to rest. I carried that guitar with me, still singing through the pain:
“Hallelujah, that’s what my song will be.”
Did the situation look like God was good? To the natural mind, no. But I had to gather every ounce of faith within me because I knew I was standing at a critical spiritual junction. I was either going to sink under the weight of grief, or I was going to rise above it.
I had lost someone I loved deeply—someone I had journeyed with since our 200-level days at university, where we studied the same course. The pain was so overwhelming that even the normal words people use to comfort someone could not reach my heart.
Then I realized something: “If human advice cannot help me, I must run to God.”
So I ran to the place of worship.
In that season of deep pain, songs began to come out of my spirit—songs that were born in the middle of my sorrow:
“Jesus, Jesus, You are wonderful, Jesus…”
When you find yourself in a season where your circumstances seem to contradict your faith, remember this foundational truth:
Good does not qualify God. God defines what is good.
When you choose to worship through your darkest night, you draw strength from heaven to rise above the valley of the shadow.
Credit: Min. Dunsin Oyekan.
