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Then, when occasionally we hoped we’d seen the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, we learned that it wasn’t relief we’d seen, but rather the 5:00 train from Los Angeles heading straight at us. How long would this go on?
    At one point Phil and I found ourselves sitting on a cold bench outside a courtroom. “How did we end up here?” I
    asked. Until that point, my entire experience with the legal system had included showing up for jury duty and never being selected. As I watched in wonder as a pack of lawyers stood there chatting about our case and laughing among themselves, I said, “You know, every breath they take is costing us a hun-dred dollars.” Were they trustworthy? Did they have our best interests at heart, as they claimed? And then there was the question of how the judge would rule. In one sentence she could ruin us.
    In addition to these problems with our business, we suffered in other, more personal ways. A number of our dear relatives and friends died during this time, including a beloved great-aunt who passed away in March 2003 and a cherished uncle, Bob, who succumbed to cancer in May 2004. I know it’s hard to believe, but there was hardly a month that went by when we didn’t have a funeral to go to or condolences to send.
    And then, at the end of November 2003, what in some
    ways was the deepest wound of all to me, occurred. I had run home between counseling cases for a bite to eat, and I listened with shock and horror to a voicemail message from my dearest friend, Julie’s, mother: “Oh, Elyse,” she cried. “Richard [Julie’s son] is dead. He was killed in a car accident last night.” What?
    I thought. What did I just hear? and then, within my heart I 18
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    Introduction
    sensed a deadly coldness that was transforming itself into rage.
    Hasn’t she gone through enough? Isn’t this a little heavy-handed of you? I understand, Lord, why you’re hammering me, but this? Why this? Isn’t this over the line?
    In the days that followed, as I met with Julie and helped with the funeral arrangements and hosted the family reception at my home, questions about the ultimate goodness of God filled my heart and mind. For the first time in many years I began to question God. I questioned His character—why would He
    do this to her? How does this square with what He says about Himself? Is He loving? Is He merciful? I fell headlong into a pit of despair and discouragement.
    What I’ve just written may have shocked you. I know, we
    Christians aren’t supposed to have these questions. We’re supposed to be strong and filled with faith. But this isn’t the portrait that I see in the lives of brothers and sisters in Scripture, and it isn’t the experience of our brothers and sisters here. This was, for me, midnight of the dark night of my soul.
    The Steadfast Heart
    During these difficult years the Lord graciously brought
    Psalm 57 to me through the preaching of one of our church’s leaders, Steve Shank. Then, on my birthday at the beginning of November 2003, in kindness God gave me a present: He burned this psalm into my consciousness.
    Because Phil and I were at a loss about how to pray, we had already been spending much time in the psalms. Psalm 57 was one of those psalms that spoke deeply to me. One verse in particular was meaningful. It read, “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!” (esv). Then, 19
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    Introduction
    for this same birthday a dear friend gave me a beautiful chain with a silver heart. Inscribed on it was my verse: “My heart is steadfast, O God.” What was so remarkable about her gift was that she didn’t know that God had already been speaking that verse to me. A steadfast heart? Was that God’s plan for me? My heart felt anything but steadfast.
    This is a book about what I’ve learned, and am continuing to learn, about