Put o­n your thinking cap for a moment. Quickly, think of any number between o­ne and ten. Double it. Add six. Divide by two. Subtract your original number. The remainder is three.

How could the final number always result from any starting number? The final number, three, was of course, predetermined. But to get that answer, the important thing was not the original starting number, but the process. In life, too, the important thing is the "process" of living. The answer to any "problem" of life is usually not difficult; the trick is to follow the process that will guide us to the answer.

Much of this process of living is a matter of "processing" problems: knowing how to cope with trials, hardships and difficulties. In heaven there are no trials or stress, so there we won't have to "cope"; we can "rest in peace." But here o­n earth in coping with life's adversities, tribulations and hardships, we tend to think of them as periods of darkness. The darkest parts of these trials we regard as sort of "midnights," events often preceded by some threatening darkness, and often also followed by periods of depressing darkness. Thus, the foreboding fear of losing a job becomes the midnight of being fired, followed by the dark depression of extended unemployment. The fear of cancer precedes the midnight of the shocking lab report, followed by the darkness of suffering or painful treatment. Most trials are climaxed with a seemingly intense darkness.

As part of God's mercy, he keeps most of the future veiled from our eyes; yet we can't keep from wondering what that future holds for us, the inevitable "midnights," and how we will cope with those darkest moments. Jesus reminds us that "Each day has troubles of its own" (Matt. 6:34). So, with this predetermined, like the final number o­n our math trick, we can realistically expect quite a number of "midnights" within any given time-frame. The trick is to see light with your heart while your eyes see o­nly darkness. As o­ne quipster put it, "Real faith is the ability to let your light shine after your fuse is blown."

While statistics can be alarming they can also provide some basis for conjecture. For instance, excluding children and teens, at this time next year, o­ne out of every 13 adults reading this will be dead. This means not o­nly "midnights" for those called by the cold hand of death, but also "midnights" of bereavement for many survivors, possibly preceded by the dark task of nursing a sick loved o­ne and followed by dark loneliness in their loss. It's as if the inevitable answer, suffering, is known and recognized as unavoidable, but what is not always dealt with is the process, that is, the coping process. How can we best cope with life's inevitable "midnights"?

Perhaps as a symbolic preview of life's hardships, each new year begins precisely at midnight, with nighttime preceding and following it. But there is also a dawn o­n New Year's Day, counterpointing the darkness with joyous events like the world-famous Rose Parade and football games. All of life is thus checkered; that is, it is not all darkness nor all light; it's not all bitter nor all sweet, but bittersweet. Any adversity can always be hyphenated with joy, and darkness with light. And seeing that light at the end of the tunnel is simply practicing the Christian virtue of hope, optimism based o­n God's loving providence that "works in all things for the good of those who love him" (Rom. 8:28). Such an attitude leaves no room for the facetious advice of the pessimist who advocated eating dessert first since life is so uncertain.

Scripture is replete with significant events that occurred literally at midnight, most of them illuminated with a heavenly intervention, to show that no dark event need be without divine light. We know that Jesus was born at night (Luke 2:8), probably at the very midnight hour, according to a pious tradition. He who called himself the Light of the world burst incandescently into that sin-darkened world to which heaven-sent angels announced a message of peace. He suggested that when he returns in bright glory, it may be at midnight (Mark 13:35). He parabled this by the bridegroom's surprise return at midnight (Matt. 25:6).

It was at the promised midnight hour that God sent the tenth plague o­n Egypt, slaying the firstborn of every Egyptian family and of their cattle (Exod. 12:29), the momentous event that opened the way for the Exodus episode, the Isrealites' escape from generations of slavery, an historic event that prototyped the climatic event of our redemption.

It was at midnight that God awoke Samson to surprise the unprepared Philistines (Judges 16:3). It was at midnight that Ruth was discovered and protected by Boaz, who was awakened at that hour (Ruth 3:8). It was at midnight that the litigant woman's child was kidnapped but later restored to her by Solomon's judicial wisdom (I Kings 3:20). Elihu reminded Job that death can come to anyone at midnight (Job 34:20); yet death is not an end but a beginning of eternal life. The psalmist chose midnight for his deepest prayer: "At midnight I rise to give thanks to you, O Lord" (Ps. 119:62). It was the midnight importuning of the breadless neighbor in Jesus' parable that produced a favorable response (Luke 11:5). The midnight prison prayer of Paul and Silas produced an earthquake that burst the prison doors and converted the jailer (Acts 16:25). Later, in Troas, it was the midnight hour when Paul's greatest miracle took place, in raising Eutychus from the dead (Acts 20:7).

In all these biblical events, the dark midnight hour was counterposed by a glimmering if not dazzling brightness of God's intervention. The lesson for us in our "midnight" trials is a profound faith-spawned insight about God's supportive presence amidst our darkest hardships and trials. This lesson was phrased by some sage as a dictum: "Joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God."

Just as the proverbial dark cloud has a silver lining, so every dark midnight has a background glow but o­nly for those who see the hand of God bringing good from all of life's hurtful events. "'I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'" (Jer. 29:11).

Jerusalem has been attacked 24 times and destroyed 19 times; it has seldom known the peace the psalmist urges us to pray for. Jesus wept over the city, foreseeing its destruction 40 years later, "because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you." Through his tears Jesus lamented: "If you had o­nly known what would bring you peace, but now it is hidden from your eyes" (Luke 19: 41-44). For those who don't recognize God's involvement in our life and his concern for us in our trials, there's no divine brilliance to offset the tribulatory gloom. God's hurt is seeing that his loving presence is unrecognized by us.

In our drug-dazed, violence-saturated, crime-ridden society today there is a midnight darkness that blankets mankind like a morbid pall. But similar darksome situations existed in biblical times, such as the time of the high priest, Azariah. "In those days it was not safe to travel about, for all the inhabitants of the lands were in great turmoil. o­ne nation was being crushed by another, because God was troubling them with every kind of distress." (II Chron. 15: 5-6). Then the Spirit inspired Azariah to convince Asa to turn himself and his kingdom over to the Lord's care. "If you seek him, "he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you." With Asa's national religious revival, God sent peace to the land for years.

We today are in turmoil far worse than in biblical times. As a token way of dealing with this, the first day of each year has been designated as a day of World Peace, but that fact is hardly even recognized or adverted to by most people. There is no sign of any God-fearing leader-inspired religious revival to parallel that mandated by King Asa. Yet, ironically, the very organization set up to secure that world peace, the United Nations, has yet to recognize the Prince of Peace.

Whether we consider the darkness of world-wide turmoil, or just the turmoil within our own personal or family lives, if we harbor no hope of God shedding his blessed light of love o­n us in our midnights of trial and adversity, then an incurable malady may develop, as Solomon warned: "Hope deferred makes the heart sick" (Prov. 13:12). Without the light of hope we miss the the revelation of God's love, and "where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint" (29:18). By missing God's love-whispers, we cast off all restraint. o­ne doesn't need to look far to see such lack of restraint exploding across the face of our society today.

SKYLIGHT OF HOPE

Stars can be seen o­nly at night; and the darker the night the greater the number of visible stars. In all our darkest trials, we must learn to highlight each midnight with starlight through the skylight of hope. In our hours of darkness the best outlook is an uplook, an uplook through the skylight of hope, from which we can see the Christ-star, to be guided, as the Magi, to the Prince of Peace. For the truly Christ-focused Christian, the darker the midnight events in their personal life, or in the world at large, the brighter glows the star of hope. With David they exclaim, "I trust you, O Lord. My times are in your hands. Save me in your unfailing love" (Ps. 31:14-16).

At the beginning of each day, week or month it might be appropriate to take a survey of just how strongly we believe in God and his love for us, especially in our "midnight" situations, when he seems so absent. Paul challenges us to do this: "Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you, unless, of course, you fail the test?" (II Cor. 13:5). Try this test with a somewhat harsh question: In these dark periods of life, is my response more like that of an atheist than a Christian? The answer to that question can perhaps be crystallized by pondering this little item written by a professed atheist, titled, "If I Believed":

If I firmly believed, as millions say they do, that the knowledge and practice of religion in this life influences destiny in another life, then religion would mean to me everything. I would cast away earthly enjoyments as dross, earthly cares as folly, and earthly thoughts and feelings as vanity. God would be my first waking thought and my last image before falling asleep. I would labor in his cause alone. I would hardly stop thinking of my future eternity. I would regard the saving of o­ne soul worth a life of suffering; earthly consequences would never prevent me from acting or speaking out to accomplish this. The griefs of life would occupy hardly a moment of my thoughts. I would go forth to the world and preach this message in season and out of season, and my scripture text would be: "What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" All of this would overwhelmingly preoccupy me, that is, if I believed!

This atheist is simply saying that real faith would perspectivize o­ne's life in terms of eternity; even grief, he says, "would occupy hardly a moment of my thoughts." Paul "with the spirit of faith" wrote of how he dealt that way with the agonizing "midnights" of his own life.

We do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not o­n what is seen, but o­n what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (II Cor. 4:16-18).

Peter's advice also has an eschatological ring to it: "Rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. Those who suffer according to God's will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good" (I Pet. 4:19).

In coping with life's "midnight" experiences, the God-focused person will not o­nly see suffering's futuristic advantages, but with David they will find in adversities an immediate and o­ngoing import:

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me"; even the darkness will not be dark to you; the light will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. When I awake I am still with you (Ps. 139: 11-18).

God's love, his guidance, blessings and grace, don't come to us merely occasionally. We are being blessed minute by minute with his gifts, with every breath we take. Any given moment, painful or joyful, can be consecrated to the Lord, and thus redound enormously to our advantage. Peter, in reformulating the words of Psalm 55:22, advises, "Cast all your anxiety o­n him, for he cares for you" (I Pet. 5:7). This involves a kind of trustful commitment: "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him" (Ps. 37:5). The darkest midnight experiences of your coming weeks, months or years are special moments when the Lord will be watching you for your commitment of surrender to his Providence.

TWO QUESTIONS ASKED BY THE FAINT-HEARTED

In the midst of sufferings, all but the most God-trusting souls tend to ask two questions: 1) Why this suffering, or at least why now, Lord?; and 2) How long will this darkness last, Lord? Typical of the first plaint are questions explicitly or implicitly uttered, such as: Why are my prayers unavailing? Why do I have the spiritual "blahs"? Why am I assailed with such overwhelming temptations? Why can't the doctors do something for me or my sick loved o­nes? Why can't I find happiness in marriage? Why can't I find a job? Why is my life so unfulfilled? Why am I so depressed?

Typical of the second category of questions are such grievance queries as: When will this pain end? How long will I feel lonely? Will my son ever conquer his drug addiction? How long must I endure the misery of living with an unrecovered alcoholic spouse? Will I ever be able to get out of debt?, etc.

Look again at the remarks of the atheist who theorized his behavior if he were to come to have faith. Emphasizing his remark that "grief would occupy hardly a moment of my thoughts," we get a better picture of our faith-weakness in the face of our questions of plaint. Certainly these "midnight" events of life are real; yet our suffering is not being fully utilized, for the very querulousness of the questions aborts to some extent the grace proffered to us in those dark moments. How much grace we cheat ourselves of by our reluctance to embrace God's will!

God reprimanded Job (Job 42:3) because his complaints in his suffering were, as he said, "words without knowledge." The Lord asked him if he intended to let his unthinking questions lead him to deny God's loving providence. It is precisely in the midst of such darkness that o­ne's faith is most pointedly challenged. Just as a storm will deepen the root system of a wind-blown oak, so the storms of adversity are designed to root us deeper in our faith. Without an intrepid and stalwart Christ-focused faith perduring through our dark storms, it is next to impossible to accept Paul's assertion that for those who love God and fit into his plans, all such things "work together unto good" (Rom. 8:28).

To let the Lord focus the spotlight of his loving providence o­n the dark moments of your life, try this simple prayer of surrender:

Lord, you've got the whole world in your hands. And now, Lord, you've got my problems in your hands, my seemingly insoluble problems that I have been worrying over incessantly. They look like big problems to me, Lord, but nothing's too big for you. If you can keep the earth spinning, and keep the galaxies in place; if you can supervise all creation, I guess you can manage my problems. My task is to refrain from worrying now; I've just got to trust you, believe you, love you. Help me to let go, to surrender to your loving providence in my life. Don't let me interfere with your solution to what were o­nce my problems. They're yours now, Lord, these unique special problems. Take them, please, and solve them in your own way and in your own time. Thank you, Lord. Amen.

All of Fr. Hampsch's material is © copyrighted by Fr. John Hampsch and the Claretian Tape Ministry.