Escaping the Dungeon of Giant Despair

Christian says to his companion, the grave would be more easy for me than this dungeon.

And right there, ladies and gentlemen, in the original text of Pilgrim's Progress, John Bunyan himself languishing in a prison cell, pencils into the manuscript a reference, Job 7.15. You see, it is the natural cry of the believer under great suffering to say, how long, O Lord? And if it's going to be this long, then let's end it. Take me on to heaven. In Job's time of suffering, he was ready to just call it quits.

He had had enough. What do you do when you're depressed? Do you go for a drive? Do you talk with a friend? Do you pray and read scripture?

Or are you inclined to give up on God? The dungeon of despair often feels dark and lonely. But Job's story reminds you that you are never really alone. Jesus knows what it is to suffer, and he can sympathize with all your weaknesses. Today, Stephen Davey shares six key principles for dealing with despair. This message is called Escaping the Dungeon of Despair. If anybody expressed the problem of challenge and fear and doubt, it was John Bunyan, a pastor who lived in the late 1600s in England.

Because of his biblical convictions, he refused to align his assembly with the Church of England. And so in 1678, while he was in prison for holding unauthorized services, he wrote a book entitled The Pilgrim's Progress from This World to That Which Is to Come, known a little more simply to us today as Pilgrim's Progress. John Bunyan portrayed the adventures in this book of a young disciple named Christian, who left his home village called the City of Destruction and traveled on to the Celestial City in this allegory, which of course was heaven. In one particular episode, Christian and his traveling companion named Hopeful are captured by the giant despair, and they are taken to the doubting castle where they are thrown into a dungeon cell.

But Christian and Hopeful refused to give in. And one night, Pilgrim remembers a way to escape, and he is able to unlock their cell door and the outer gate as well, and they run for their lives. They are able to escape the castle and the giant despair, not by some show of force or some innate determination, but by a key that he had been given at conversion. When you arrive at Job chapter 6, you find Job languishing in a prison cell controlled, I believe, by none other than the giant despair. As he responds to his friends, he actually apologizes for his rash communication. Notice chapter 6, verse 1. Then Job answered, Oh, that my grief were actually weighed and laid in the balances together with my calamity, for then it would be heavier than the sands of the seas. Therefore, my words have been rash. In spite of his agony, he offers up a form of apology.

And what incredible character. In fact, you'll see it peeking through every now and then, even though Job pours forth his pain and his frustration. He says here, Man, it's as if my suffering would outweigh the sands of the sea. You know how heavy sand is?

You ever carry a bucket of it? You put all of the sand of the sea on one end of the scale, and my suffering outweighs it. And because of that, my words, and I'm sorry, they have indeed been rash. What amazes me here is that Job has the objectivity and character to offer this apology, and it gives us a good reminder as we work with people who are crushed in spirit. As one author said in this text, we need to remember to cut them a little slack. Dispense to them grace. Remember, don't just deal with their speech.

Deal with their spirit. Remember, it is from their spirit which is troubled and bitter that out of that comes bitter words. And so he says, my words are rash because my spirit is suffering.

In fact, he admits to his raw condition in verses 4 to 13. It's as if he says there's nowhere left to hide from me. Look at verse 4, for the arrows of the Almighty are within me.

They're poison my spirit drinks. The terrors of God are arrayed against me. In other words, God is up there. He's firing his arrows at me, and where am I going to hide? Where do you hide from God the archer?

He is a perfect shot. His arrows do not miss my heart. They come to the very bullseye of my spirits. There's nowhere left for me to hide.

He says also there's nothing left for me to enjoy. In verse 5, he basically says, does the wild donkey bray when he's given his grass? Does the oxen low when they're given their fodder?

No, they're not going to complain. But for me, verse 6, can something tasteless be eaten without salt? Is there any taste in the white of an egg? My soul refuses to touch them.

They are like loathsome food to me. In other words, there's nothing in life that I can enjoy, not even the simple pleasure of a boiled egg. There's no one left to help, he says further in verse 8. Oh, that my requests might come to pass, and that God would grant my longing.

What's your longing, Job? Would that God were willing to crush me, that he would lose his hand and cut me off. But you men need to know that if he does, it is still my consolation, and I rejoice in unsparing pain that I have not denied the words of the Holy One. I haven't cursed God. How Satan must have hated to hear those words. He and his devils are waiting, they're longing, they're wanting these demons of hell to hear Job blaspheme God. Something will come out of his suffering that will go against the character and the nature of God.

And he doesn't do it. But don't make him too much of a hero, he says in verse 12. What do you think I'm made of, granite? Do you think I'm made of stone? Do you think my flesh is made of brass?

It isn't. Indeed, go back to verse 13. He makes, I agree with the translators that believe this is a statement rather than a question. He says, my help is not within me and deliverance is driven away from me. There's nobody left to help me. There's nowhere left to hide. There's nothing left to enjoy. He is deeply beaten down by the giant despair. Periodically, as I study for these messages, I'm reading through Joseph Carroll's work on Job, a Puritan pastor.

They take about this much space on my shelf, 12 massive volumes. He preached through Job with his congregation and he took more than 23 years to do it. You thought Romans was long. Job for 23 years. His biographer did note that the congregation severely dwindled while he preached in Job. But those books are so filled with wealth and insight on this particular text in Job, Carroll observed, and I quote him, that although the spirit has no weight at all, only flesh and material substances are weighty, but a wounded spirit is heavier than wounded flesh. Then he made this interesting insight. The spirit is strong enough to bear the burden of wounded flesh, but the flesh is not strong enough to bear the burden of a wounded spirit.

It's true, isn't it? That's why when you're discouraged, you're tired. That's why when you're depressed, you're worn out. You may not have done much with your hands, but you are exhausted. Your flesh cannot support the burden of a heavy spirit.

And Job is saying, look, this is about all I can take. I'm not made out of rock. Granted, my flesh is not made of bronze. I am weak and frail and I've just about had all the beating I can take. But in spite of his weary state and this prison cell, Job apologizes for his rash words.

He admits his raw condition. And now thirdly, he appeals for real compassion in verse 14. Would you notice this pitiful appeal? For the despairing man, there should be kindness from his friend so that he does not forsake the reverence of the Almighty. Can you see this scene? What pity this scene should have stirred in these friends of Job.

Here he is. At the end of himself, can you not give me kindness? I can tell you that nothing moved me ever to empty the money in my pockets than little children in India who would race for my luggage and chase my taxi and follow me around begging. I remember in New Delhi riding in a car with my window down, which I was advised not to do, coming up to a curb at a busy intersection and there was a young mother with a baby on one hip, her own face blotched with leprosy, holding her thin arm out and her bony hand extended toward me. And the look in her eyes to this day, I cannot forget.

And I gave her what I had. Look at Job. He's covered with boils. He's sitting on the ash heap. He's bereaved of his children. And he's appealing here, not for money, verse 22, not for physical deliverance, verse 23. He isn't asking for food or clothing or protection. He's only asking, he's only appealing to them for kindness. But they're afraid, verse 21.

Why? Because they believe God is judging Job and if they get too close to Job, maybe God will judge them. So they're kind of keeping their distance. We don't want to get God upset with us. So we really feel sorry for you, Job, but not that much.

They're not gonna identify too closely with him. And Job says to them, you are all like a wadi. Verse 15, you're like a desert stream.

A wadi was a desert stream that, swirling in turbulent black water, and it would be there in abundance, but then during the summer season, it would dry up and all you'd have is sand. Not only do they fail to offer Job real compassion, Job says they fail to offer true correction. Verse 24 to the end of the chapter, verse 24, Job says, look there, teach me and I will be silent.

Okay, I'm quiet, teach me. Show me how I have erred. The Hebrew word for erred refers to unintentional sin or sin he isn't aware of. Job never denies sinning. He just doesn't know what it is and where it is and he isn't refusing to repent. He says, look, if you'll just tell me what it is, I'll confess it or maybe if God will just expose it, he'll judge me and then I will have the pleasure of dying. He says to his friends, listen, I don't need accusation, I need illumination, tell me.

Show me my fault and I will readily confess and they don't because they can't. Now Job turns from speaking to his friends to speaking to God. In chapter seven, Job mourns the misery of his suffering in the first few verses.

In fact, let me summarize them for the sake of time. In verse two, Job effectively says, listen, Lord, even a slave gets a chance to rest in the shade. Even a hired hand who works hard has at least his paycheck to look forward to but I don't get any relief. I don't have any shade tree under which I can take my sorrow and find rest. My misery has no end. In fact, in verse five, we're informed that Job's physical condition is actually worsening. Look there, my flesh now is clothed with worms and a crust of dirt.

My skin has hardened and it's running. It isn't just that it isn't letting up. God, he says, it is getting worse. The beatings of this giant despair are more than I can bear. He mourns the misery of his suffering. He bemoans the brevity of his life.

Verse six, my days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle. They come to an end without hope. Remember that my life is but breath.

Remember that. Verse 16, go over there. I waste away. I will not live forever. Leave me alone for my days are but a breath.

Just leave me alone and maybe they'll end quicker if you leave me be. Don't keep me alive. The grave would be better than my painful life. Notice what he says in verse 15 of chapter seven. My soul would choose suffocation, death rather than my pains. I found it interesting that it is this very verse that John Bunyan put into the mouth of Christian as he languished in the prison cell deep in the dungeon of Doubting Castle. Christian says to his companion, shall we be ruled by this giant?

I know not whether it is best to live like this or die. The grave would be more easy for me than this dungeon. And right there, ladies and gentlemen, in the original text of Pilgrim's Progress, John Bunyan himself languishing in a prison cell pencils into the manuscript the reference Job 7.15. You see, it is the natural cry of the believer under great suffering to say, how long, oh Lord?

And if it's gonna be this long, then let's end it. Take me on to heaven. Perhaps the greatest injury to Job is not his misery and suffering or his brevity in life, but it is in the last portion of this prayer as he laments the loss of communion. Notice verse 20, have I sinned? Have I sinned? What have I done to you, oh watcher of men? Why have you set me as your target? I'm now a burden to myself. Why then do you not pardon my transgression and take away my iniquity?

There must be something then, so take it away. For now I will lie down in the dust, and you will seek me, but I will not be. All we can do, men and women, is observe him here and learn.

I don't want to be too hard on Job, by the way. I think it's remarkable. Don't miss this. It is remarkable that Job is praying. He's praying. His counselors will never pray. In the entire book, they will not utter one prayer to God. But Job prays. And can you see in that the beginning of what will become hope? We can learn from John Bunyan, who had his own cell in this life of Job, and for his allegory as Christian and hopeful, escape the castle. It is the same way of escape for us all, as Job will learn. Earlier in Pilgrim's Progress, Christian had been given a small key. I mentioned that earlier.

Let me tell you a little bit more about it. He was told that whenever he needed to open a door, he could use this key, and it would unlock any door. He should use this gift, this special key he was given. The key had a name. Its name was Promise.

One night, Christian, unknown to him and to he and to hopeful, that the giant has decided to kill them on the next morning. He remembers that he has this key in his pocket, and he apologizes to hopeful for forgetting it. He'd forgotten it.

Oh, what dismay, he cries out. I have forgotten the key. And he pulls it out, not sure it will work. He puts it into his cell door, turns it, and the door swings open. He is able to open other doors and out to the castle gate, though rusty eventually it turns and opens, and they flee, and they are saved. Not by some personal determination, not by some show of force, but by a key called Promise. Bunyan wanted us all to know as we travel to the celestial city that should we find ourselves locked in a similar dungeon to remember the gifts of promise given to us. Use these keys to defeat the giant despair.

Let me give you four or five of them quickly. First, in seasons when you conclude God is in present, he is. The promise key could be Hebrews 13 five. I will never leave you nor what forsake you. We all know that. Use it.

Pull it out and use it. When a young Jewish woman named Corrie ten Boom survived her own imprisonment in the concentration camp, she later said these powerful words of discovery. There is no pit so deep, but that God is not deeper still. No matter how deep you go, no matter how deep your dungeon, God is deeper still.

Secondly, in times when you feel like life is hopeless, it isn't. A key of promise that came to my mind is one I hear now quoted often. Jeremiah 29 11. For I know the plans that I have for you declares the Lord. By the way, plans for unrepentant, stubborn Israel who will later repent. And God says, well, I've always had plans for you. Plans to give you a future and a what? A hope. Great key. Third, in afflictions, when you believe God doesn't care, he does.

Bang on it. First Peter 5 7. Casting all your care upon him for he what? Cares for you. Cast your cares on him because he, the tense declares, consistently, continually, without interruption, always, forever cares for you.

It's his gift to you, that key. Fourth, in situations where you are sure you know better than God, you don't. Psalm 18 30. As for God, his way is blameless. The word of the Lord is tried.

That is, it's tested, it's proven, it's true. He knows best. And he is a shield to those who take refuge in him. Fifth, in despair, when you believe God hasn't heard your cry, he has. Psalm 69, I read it at the beginning of the hour.

Let me go back to it again. You who seek God, let your heart revive. For the Lord hears the needy and does not despise his children who are prisoners. Great text.

One translation renders it. He does not despise his wounded ones. Another paraphrase is that God does not walk out on those who are crushed. That's his key.

Use it. One more. Sixth, in circumstances where you don't feel loved, you really are. Paul promises and gives us this wonderful key in Romans 8 verse 38, for I am convinced that neither death nor life nor angels nor principalities nor things present nor things to come nor powers nor height nor depth nor any other created thing will ever be able to separate us from what?

The love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. May I challenge you to contemplate the connection you have with your suffering and the sufferings of others. It does our soul good, doesn't it, to hear the story of Fanny Crosby, to hear the lyrics of a woman who could have languished in her cell.

If you're struggling, read biographies of people like her. Read Fox's Book of Martyrs. Read the biographies of believers who've long since gone to heaven.

It will do good to your soul. See your connection, even beyond that, to the fellowship of Christ's sufferings. He was humbled, he voluntarily came to this planet, to this land of sorrow. He took upon himself willingly the form of a servant.

Paul wrote in Philippians chapter two, and he died the death of a despised, unwanted criminal. See your connection to the body of Christ, his church. Peter writes that we all share in common the sufferings.

They are not unique, though they take different forms. The sufferings of believers are felt around the world. You are not alone.

In fact, ask Job. The God he thought had abandoned him was actually at this moment in this chapter of his life, as active as ever, in fact, empowering Job to survive the beatings of the giant despair. Let me give you one more sufferer to connect with as I wrap this up today. There's another hymn writer who also suffered from blindness, though not as well known. When he was only a teenager, he learned that his poor eyesight would degenerate and he would eventually no longer be able to see. The diagnosis was discouraging but not defeating, and George Matheson continued on his studies at Glasgow University in his native Scotland. He graduated from the college with honors when he was 19, so dedicated was he, and pressed on in his graduate studies. The following year, the prognosis became reality, and at the age of 20 in 1852, George Matheson went blind. His sisters, who were single, joined ranks with him, and they learned Greek and Hebrew in order to help him with his studies in graduate school, and they pressed on together, even though the crushing news came that year when his fiancee returned her engagement ring, stating that she was unwilling to marry a blind man.

George never married. The pain of that rejection never totally left him. But he entered the ministry and served in the pastorate for 31 years. In fact, he became quite famous, this blind preacher. Queen Victoria invited him often to preach to the court.

In fact, Queen Victoria herself provided the finances to have his sermons on Job published. However, after his youngest sister married, leaving him now entirely alone, overwhelmed with sorrow, he sat down and he wrote a poem that became for millions later, and to him, keys of promise. O love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in thee. I give thee back the life I owe that in thine ocean depths its flow may richer fuller be. O joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee. I trace the rainbow through the rain and feel the promises not vain, that morn shall tearless be. O cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from thee. I lay in dust life's glory dead and from the ground there blossoms red life that shall endless be. That's how you escape Doubting Castle.

That's how we flee from a giant named Despair. In many ways, the story of Job points to the need for the gospel, and Stephen has a resource called The Gospel According to Job. Today, we're sending a copy of this booklet to anyone who makes their first contact with our ministry. You can reach us if you dial 866-48-BIBLE.

That number numerically is 866-482-4253. I hope we hear from you today. For Stephen and all of us here at Wisdom International, thanks for listening. We'll return to God's Word tomorrow, and I hope you can join us. .