The other morning was a dark one for me.

I didn’t have any particular reason for finding myself in the state of mind I was in, but I noticed it begin to overpower me as I drove in to work; the closer I got, the more I found myself filling up with a dark and dangerous anger.

I’m aware that anger grows from seeds that are real, but it tends to grow in a manner that is completely aggrandizing and often disproportionate to reality.

And that anger, when left unchecked, can lead to some very dark places.

For me, it was one where I felt completely isolated physically, emotionally, and even spiritually.

I’m glad to say I turned to prayer multiple times that morning, which provided brief respite, but then my darker side would take over and I would find myself spinning out of control again.

 

There’s a story in the Bible about King Saul, where he would regularly be overcome by a dark spirit, and it would turn him into a monster.  One time, when Saul was in this state, he hurled his spear violently at David, his right hand man, in an effort to kill him.

I’ve never thrown a spear at someone, but I can relate to feeling overcome by darkness.  My personal struggle isn’t one of physical violence, but it is one that certainly brings violence to my soul.

We’re all like that.  You and I may very well have different struggles, but no matter what our issues are, and regardless of which particular dark path our hearts can be drawn to, they all end in one place:  Violence to our very souls. 

And violence to our souls results in something none of us were designed for:  Alienation and isolation. 

Consider your own experiences when you’ve felt the most joy.  My guess is it’s related in some fashion to feeling connected.  Connected to a community, connected to your spouse, connected to your family.  Perhaps your joyful moments are found in the great outdoors in solitude, but my money is on the fact that in your solitude, you feel intimately connected with nature, or the Creator—our souls are designed to be connected.

Compare this with your darkest moments, moments where perhaps you felt rejected, hurt, despised.  When that feeling of connection is broken, we turn inward, we feel isolated, we feel alone. 

And in that state of isolation, our paths wind downward and into the shadows.

It’s what led Saul to throw a spear, and it’s what leads us toward all kinds of damage and destruction.

 

Often when Saul would find himself in a rage, David would play the harp, which would bring about a calm over Saul.  It’s as if the harp lifted Saul out of his dark torment and back into the tangible world—back in the direction of feeling connected to his surroundings, to his role as king.

I found my harp the other day.

I was headed quickly toward self-destruction, and was certainly unproductive at work, so I hurried home (frantically, to be honest), got on my cycling gear, and hammered up some of the local hills.  It was one of those rides that was purely physical at first, me pedaling with a sense of desperate urgency, as if I was trying to outpace something sinister and dangerous nipping at my heels.

But after a little time, my pace relaxed a bit.  I wandered up a new route, and enjoyed scenery I hadn’t experienced before.

I re-connected.

It took nearly an hour—crawling out of a hole isn’t often quick—but I reconnected.   Reconnected with nature first, God second, and myself third.

My harp saved me.

 

I understand that everyone doesn’t have the same flexibility of schedule that I do, where I can leave mid-day to go on an afternoon bike ride before returning to work.  The truth is I rarely do that, but in this particular case, things were desperate.

But we can find our harp in other areas.  Because the purpose of the harp is to bring us deeper into connection and away from our internal isolation that can be so damaging.

Maybe your harp is getting outside for a short but brisk walk to the building next door and back.  Maybe your harp is standing up from your desk to chat with a real human in the coffee room.  Whatever your harp may be, I pray that it brings you (and those around you) into a sense of deeper connection.

Because we weren’t meant for isolation.

We were meant to live fulfilled lives of inter-connection.

 

Here’s to finding our harps, as often as we need them, whenever and wherever those occasions may be.