Profile of Adrian Goh, Baptized name: Barnabas
– A family man and a Christian who volunteers overseas (Indonesia, Myanmar and other countries)
– Highly experienced in physical security, workplace safety, facilities management, human resource management. He is also workplace safety and fire safety certified
– He is equally comfortable in leading in major operations and administrative work
–He had written several articles on fire safety, workplace safety, human resources, micro expression and articles on the bible.
– He had experienced Psalm 88 in his darkest days, when no one recognised or knows him except for Jesus, who rescued him
Psalm 88 is one of the Bible’s darkest prayers. It gives words to people who feel exhausted, isolated, overwhelmed, or unable to see a happy ending—and it can lift your spirits not by pretending pain is small, but by showing that you can bring even your bleakest feelings to God honestly. The psalm begins by calling God “the God who saves me,” yet ends with the stark line, “darkness is my closest friend.”
A psalm that does not tidy things up
Many biblical psalms follow a familiar emotional journey. The writer begins with fear, grief, anger, or confusion; then, after praying, the poem turns toward trust, gratitude, praise, or renewed confidence. Psalm 88 does not follow that pattern.
Traditionally attributed to Heman the Ezrahite and introduced as “a song” and “a psalm,” Psalm 88 reads like the prayer of someone who feels near death, abandoned by friends, crushed by suffering, and unheard by God. The speaker says:
“I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.”
— Psalm 88:3
He describes himself as trapped: “I am confined and cannot escape.” His grief is so severe that his eyes are dim. He says that his closest friends have been taken away and that he has been made repulsive to them.
The psalm’s final line is unforgettable:
“You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.”
— Psalm 88:18
In Hebrew, the last word of the psalm is “darkness.” Scholars often note that Psalm 88 is unusual because it does not end with an explicit promise of rescue, a vow to praise God, or a clear emotional recovery. It simply stops in the dark.
That may sound discouraging. Yet this is precisely why Psalm 88 can become a source of comfort.
What Psalm 88 is about
Psalm 88 is a lament: a prayer that speaks suffering rather than hiding it. It is about a person who feels hemmed in by pain on several fronts at once.
Physical suffering
The writer speaks as though he is close to death. He feels weak, cut off, and placed among the dead. “From my youth I have suffered and been close to death,” he says. Some readers connect this to serious or chronic illness, though the psalm itself does not identify one specific condition.
The language will feel familiar to anyone who has lived with pain that does not quickly improve: the feeling that every morning brings the same heavy body, the same uncertainty, and the same question—How long can I keep doing this?
Emotional and mental anguish
The psalmist feels overwhelmed, frightened, and despairing. He describes troubles that surround him “like a flood,” pressing in from every side. This is not a mild bad mood. It is the language of someone whose inner world has become dark and claustrophobic.
For a modern reader, Psalm 88 may resonate with depression, severe anxiety, burnout, grief, trauma, loneliness, or the numbness that can follow a major loss. It should not be used to diagnose the writer or ourselves. But it does recognise an experience that is real: sometimes people suffer so deeply that positive slogans sound cruel rather than helpful.
Social isolation
One of the most painful themes is loneliness. The speaker believes that friends and loved ones have been removed from him. Whether people literally abandoned him or he feels alienated by illness and grief, the emotional reality is the same: he feels alone.
This matters because suffering becomes heavier when no one seems able to understand it. A person can be surrounded by family, colleagues, church members, or social-media notifications and still feel that darkness is their closest companion.
Spiritual struggle
Perhaps the hardest part of Psalm 88 is that the writer speaks directly to God but feels rejected by God. He asks, “Why, Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?”
This is not a prayer from someone who has stopped caring about God. It is a prayer from someone who cares enough to protest. The psalmist keeps addressing God even when he feels no answer is coming. Scholars describe this as “unanswered faith”: faith that remains in relationship with God despite silence, confusion, and unresolved suffering.
Why this dark psalm can lift your spirits
Psalm 88 does not lift the spirit in the usual way. It does not say, “Cheer up, everything will be fine by Friday.” It offers a deeper, quieter kind of help.
It gives permission to be honest
Many people feel pressure to sound spiritually confident when they are hurting. They may believe that sadness means weak faith, anger means ingratitude, or unanswered questions mean they have failed God.
Psalm 88 argues otherwise. Its writer does not hide his anguish. He says he is overwhelmed, alone, terrified, exhausted, and close to death. And this prayer was preserved in Scripture—not edited out as too negative, not replaced with a happier ending.
That means you do not have to perform happiness for God.
You can pray, “I am tired.” You can pray, “I feel abandoned.” You can pray, “I do not understand.” You can pray, “I cannot see a way forward.” Psalm 88 tells you that blunt honesty is still prayer. You do not need beautiful words when you are barely holding yourself together.
It reminds you that pain is not proof of spiritual failure
The person in Psalm 88 is not portrayed as careless, faithless, or indifferent. He is praying “day and night.” His suffering is not presented as evidence that he has been abandoned because he did not pray hard enough.
This can be a powerful correction when people blame themselves for their distress. Depression is not necessarily a failure of faith. Chronic illness is not necessarily a punishment. Grief is not evidence that you are “not strong enough.” A difficult season does not mean God has stopped listening simply because you do not feel comfort at the moment.
Psalm 88 makes room for a faith that hurts.
It shows that continuing to pray is already an act of hope
At first glance, Psalm 88 appears hopeless. But notice whom the writer addresses. Its opening words are, “Lord, you are the God who saves me; day and night I cry out to you.”
He does not say, “God of my salvation” because his circumstances feel saved. His situation feels anything but safe. Yet he still turns toward God. Some scholars see this opening address as a quiet trace of hope: even while accusing God of absence, the speaker continues to call upon the God he believes can save.scielo.org+2
Sometimes hope is not a happy feeling. Sometimes hope is merely sending one more prayer when you have no energy to make it sound religious.
A prayer as short as “God, help me get through today” can be a Psalm 88 prayer.
It makes lonely people feel less alone
There is comfort in discovering that the Bible contains not only triumphant stories, victories, and songs of praise, but also a prayer for someone who feels crushed and isolated. Psalm 88 tells sufferers: Someone else has been here. Someone else has said words like yours. Your experience has not been excluded from the life of faith.
That does not magically remove suffering. But it can take away one layer of pain: the belief that you are strange, defective, or alone because you cannot find a bright side.
The psalm becomes a companion. When you cannot formulate your own prayer, you can borrow its words.
How to use Psalm 88
You do not need to “solve” Psalm 88. You can use it as a companion for hard days.
Read it slowly
Read one section at a time, perhaps verses 1–3, then 4–9, then 10–18. Notice which line sounds most like your current experience. You do not need to agree with every word or feel every emotion in the psalm. Let one honest line be enough.
For example:
“Day and night I cry out to you.”
— Psalm 88:1
You might turn it into a simple prayer: “God, I have been carrying this day and night. Please hear me.”
Name what is dark
Instead of only saying, “I feel bad,” try naming the specific burden: grief, fear, loneliness, pressure, illness, financial strain, conflict, disappointment, anger, exhaustion, or uncertainty.
Psalm 88 is specific about pain. The writer speaks about friends, fear, death, confinement, and feeling forgotten. Naming a burden does not make it larger; it often makes it less shapeless.
Do not force a cheerful ending
You do not have to conclude every prayer with a triumphant statement you do not yet believe. Psalm 88 does not. You may simply end with, “God, this is where I am today.”
That is not giving up. It is refusing to lie.
Let someone else into the darkness
Psalm 88 describes profound isolation, but it should not be used as a reason to endure severe distress alone. If you are struggling, tell a trusted friend, pastor, family member, counsellor, or healthcare professional. If you have thoughts of harming yourself or feel unable to stay safe, seek urgent local emergency or crisis support immediately.
Faith and professional help are not rivals. A prayer can be followed by a doctor’s appointment. A psalm can be prayed in a counselling room. Asking for help can be one form of refusing to let darkness have the last word.
The quiet hope of Psalm 88
Psalm 88 does not promise that every prayer ends in visible relief before nightfall. Its gift is more honest: it says that you may come to God when you have no relief, no explanation, no polished faith, and no strength left to make sense of your pain.
The psalmist never receives an audible answer within the poem. Yet he keeps speaking to God. That persistence is important. Even in darkness, he is still in conversation.
So Psalm 88 can lift your spirits not by denying darkness, but by taking you seriously inside it. It tells you that sorrow can be spoken, doubt can be prayed, and faith can remain real even when it feels almost invisible.
Sometimes the most hopeful thing a person can say is not, “Everything is wonderful.”
Sometimes it is simply: “God, I am still here. Please hear me.”