There’s a type of bird that for centuries has been called a nightingale that sings songs in the night. The nightingale gets its name from the Old English words “niht,” meaning “night,” and “galan,” meaning “to sing.” So the name attached to this bird essentially means “night singer.”

I imagine that people whose sleep was disturbed at night for one reason or another were struck by the sound of birds singing in the darkness. Hence, they came to be known as night singers. I have no doubt that the beautiful sounds of the nightingale soothed the disturbed souls of many and helped them fall asleep.

As I was meditating on Psalm 77 today, I thought about a young lady named Jane “Nightbirde” Marczewski. She appeared as a contestant on the show America’s Got Talent. (See her audition here.)

Besides her beautiful voice, what made her appearance on the show so memorable and moving was that she was battling terminal cancer at the time. She sang her original song “It’s OK” with cancer in her spine, lungs, and liver, while knowing that she only had a 2% chance of survival, according to the doctors.

Jane got her stage name, Nightbirde, from a recurring dream she had of birds singing outside her window at night, as if it were morning. Their singing not only soothed her soul, it inspired her to embody the idea of being able to sing through dark times, full of hope that there would be a morning. When one of the judges asked her how she could sing while battling cancer, she said, “I’m not the sum total of the bad things that happen to me.” She also said, “You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore to decide to be happy.”

“I’m not the sum total of the bad things that happen to me. You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore to decide to be happy.” – Jane Marczewski

Jane, who was a Christian, learned something from the birds in her dreams singing in the night. Moreover, she no doubt understood from passages like Psalm 77 to not stop singing even when night falls and darkness seems to engulf our lives.

Psalm 77 starts out raw. The psalmist is in agony, crying out to God: “In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted” (v. 2). He’s reaching, but comfort feels out of reach. Why? Some say he rejected shallow fixes—food, drink, distractions. Those weren’t enough. He needed God Himself. Others think his prayers went unanswered, and the silence only deepened his frustration.

Jane’s words echo here: “You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore to decide to be happy.” Can we really choose joy? Is this possible? Can one decide to be happy? I submit to you that if we can refuse to be comforted, as the psalmist did, we can also decide to be happy.

I’m not minimizing the pain you may be experiencing because of difficult circumstances. We don’t have to deny our painful circumstances or even be delivered from them to experience happiness—but we do have to look to a source other than our favorable circumstances or fulfilled expectations.

We don’t have to deny our painful circumstances or even be delivered from them to experience happiness—but we do have to look to a source other than our favorable circumstances or fulfilled expectations.

We must stop refusing to be comforted unless we receive what we desire and instead make a choice to rejoice. We can make a choice to rejoice by deciding to think differently and look elsewhere to find the comfort and joy of the Lord.

We can make a choice to rejoice by deciding to think differently and look elsewhere to find the comfort and joy of the Lord.

Notice that the psalmist didn’t just wallow. He shifted gears: “I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, ‘Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.’ Then my spirit made a diligent search” (vv. 5-6). He stopped obsessing over the problem and started recalling God’s greatness—His holiness, wonders, and redemption. He remembered songs from past dark nights, letting them steady his heart.

Elihu, speaking to Job in his own midnight hour, captured what he needed most: “People cry out under oppression… but none says, ‘Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night?’” (Job 35:9-10).

Charles Spurgeon, who battled with serious health problems which also led to depression, wrote: “Elihu’s reason is right in the majority of cases. The great cause of a Christian’s distress, the reason of the depths of sorrow into which many believers are plunged, is simply this—that while they are looking about, on the right hand and on the left, to see how they may escape their troubles, they forget to look to the hills whence all real help cometh; they do not say, ‘Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night?’”

“The reason of the depths of sorrow into which many believers are plunged is simply this—that while they are looking about, on the right hand and on the left, to see how they may escape their troubles, they forget to look to the hills whence all real help cometh.” – Charles Spurgeon

Then there’s Paul and Silas—beaten, chained, locked in a dungeon. What do they do?

“About midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them” (Acts 16:25).

Midnight didn’t silence them; it amplified their song.

Beloved, in our dark hour we don’t have to deny our pain; instead, as the classic hymns suggest, let’s turn our eyes upon Jesus and look full in His wonderful face; and when darkness seems to hide His face, let us rest on His unchanging grace. He gives songs in the night.

Copyright © 2025 Marco David. All rights reserved.