Light of the Misfit
By Anthony Casperson
12-13-25

From Rudolph to Hermie to Yukon Cornelius, the theme of being a misfit sings off the screen in the Rankin-Bass special, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. And if that’s not enough proof for you, the Island of Misfit Toys doesn’t make it any more obvious.

However, the idea that some people are different from the general standard of others isn’t really a novel one. Nor is it the end of the theme of this Christmas classic.

Rather, the theme includes the thought of there being a place for every misfit. There’s a moment where that difference, which had previously made us “unfit,” reveals its purpose. That part of ourselves which had left us running off alone in the middle of the night proves to be exactly what’s needed at the right moment.

But only when we let it shine.

The story’s message isn’t only that it’s okay to be a misfit, but that there’s often a purpose for that difference. We might not realize it until the situation arises, but if not for that difference, the story might not have had such a happy ending.

We can see this thematic element most easily in Rudolph’s shining red nose as it’s able to cut through the darkness of the terrible storm on this one Christmas Eve. However, we can also witness Hermie’s dentistry come in handy to keep the Bumble from devouring the reindeer. And, speaking of the Bumble, once he’s toothless, he’s able to be of use in putting the star on top of the giant Christmas tree.

If we dwell on the parts of us that we might wish were different—or that other people wish were different about us—we’ll often end up in dark places. When we focus only on our “unfit” nature, depression is just around the corner. The Depths of Darkness are ready to devour us like a roaring Bumble in the night.

But if we refuse to let the turmoil win, we can find our place in this world. If we stop focusing on what we can’t do, and instead look to the situation we’ve been made for, we can lead the song.

We can light the way for everyone else trapped in the darkness with us.

Throughout the past few weeks, we’ve been looking at a series from several psalms that speak to the depression, anxiety, and distress that often accompanies this season. And this week’s psalm—or technically, psalms—is a place where the psalmist feels his “unfit” nature throughout, much like the misfits of Rudolph’s story. But he comes to realize that God has led him to the exact situation where the thing leading him to depression is exactly the thing that God can use to shine his light.

He’s a misfit. But in this God-prepared moment, he’s exactly what is needed.

Psalms 42 and 43 are our passage for this blog. They make up one song, despite somehow being separated at a point in time in history. We can see the truth to this previous unity because of the refrain at the end of each of the three stanzas.

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”

But before we can understand the relevance of the refrain, and its building crescendo, we need to look at the story growing throughout the rest of the stanzas. And we start with the first stanza, found in Psalm 42:1-6a. (A tiny bit of the refrain was unfortunately allocated to the next stanza’s verses. Or, perhaps, we could say that even in this song of being “unfit,” there is a blatant misfit. It’s a little bit of thematic irony.)

The stanza begins with the image of a deer panting for water in the heat of a desert. The psalmist feels a drought in his soul. He longs to drink deeply from the spring of his God. But there’s something holding him back. And it sends him grieving. His tears become the sole source of his sustenance.

We don’t know exactly what that setback is, but it’s preventing him from achieving his heart’s desire. Verse 4 shows his longing desire to travel to the place where God’s worship is centralized, his temple. Specifically, the psalmist remembers leading others in worship on their way to this place on previous occasions. But it seems that God isn’t with him this time around.

Things are so bad that other people make fun of him, asking where his God is. “Where is the God you want to worship? He can’t be all that powerful if he can’t help you get to his temple.” They call the psalmist names. And probably would’ve barred him from any of their reindeer games.

Because of this failure to achieve the leadership role in worship that he longed to have, the psalmist falls into a depression. He sees his place of misfit as a detriment to his heart’s desire. He can’t go leading others in worship of God, therefore, he believes there’s something wrong with him.

And then he sings a begrudging song about it.

This is when we get the first instance of the refrain. It’s almost like he’s trying to cheer himself up. And failing. O my soul, don’t dissolve or melt away like a snowball in the drought-ridden desert. Don’t groan like an empty stomach. We’ll be able to praise God in song again. We’ll have another chance, even though we feel so lonely right now.

Some of us have been there before. Trying to give ourselves a pep talk. We fake enthusiasm for something we truly doubt will actually happen. “Fake it, til you make it,” right? If we just believe hard enough, it’ll come true. It’s gotta. Right?

Right?

But false promises don’t even hold a candle in that darkly raging blizzard. A light snuffed out before the flame’s even taken to the wick.

And it doesn’t help the psalmist either. He continues to voice his doubts and questions in the second stanza in Psalm 42:6b-11. This time, the imagery isn’t a drought in a desert. Quite the opposite. It’s a flood of too much water, a hurricane on the sea. He’s faked water to slake his thirst so much that it’s about to drown him.

We can see the progression of his watery thoughts from verses 6-7. He tries to think of his God as provider of the life-giving liquid. The provision of water after a season of thirst with a downcast soul. And it almost works. But that trickle becomes a river. A few raindrops shift to a Niagara-like downpour. And finally become a raging storm on the sea of darkness.

He’d panted after his God. But now he’s drowning in those false promises that he thought would tide him over. Faking it will only make things worse, because that is not a true solution to the problem. As a matter of fact, it’s more likely to make things worse. While never helping with the problem at all.

Look at Psalm 42:8-10. The psalmist attempts to praise God from this fake place of worship. Even calls God by his covenant name of Yahweh, while speaking of God’s steadfast love. Reminders of the covenant with God are all around him. But when the psalmist’s prayer is given voice, it doesn’t sound that hopeful.

“Why have you forgotten me?” he asks. The tumultuous crashing of the flood around him turns the psalmist upside down. And the words of others return. Enemy words meant to tear down and destroy. The name of misfit on their tongue.

And once again, their question of, “Where is your God?” springs to his mind. In the previous stanza, their names and rejection had been half a verse. But now, their words have grown to over a verse and a half. Over three times the size.

The lie builds in size when we refuse to fight it with truth. And running away in the darkness of night feels like our best option. Yet, it will only lead us to greater danger.

Again, the refrain rings. O my soul, don’t dissolve or melt away like a snowball in the midst of a hurricane. Don’t groan like a boat tossed about on the sea. We’ll be able to praise God again. Once we’ve gotten enough breath back in us. All we have to do is ride out this storm. It’s gotta end…eventually. Right?

Right?

If this were the end of the psalmist’s words, this would be quite the downer of the story. But it’s not the end. There’s another stanza. A turning point in the song. A key change to something a little bit lighter.

A brighter light in the midst of the darkness.

Throughout Psalm 43, the psalmist stops with the poetic imagery. He stops talking about thirsting in the drought. Quits speaking of drowning in the storm-tossed sea. He names the real problem.

He feels rejected. By God and by other people. He’s a misfit. An outcast. A reject. And there seems to be nothing he can do about it.

But this is when he finally realizes the answer to his problem. Instead of focusing on his feelings of rejection, he begins to focus on God. On the answer that God can give him. In all of this desire to worship God in his temple, the psalmist forgot to actually worship God.

He’d centered his universe on himself, instead of the God he’d claimed to want to worship. As if leading others in worship were the important part, rather than the worship itself.

In Psalm 43:3, the songwriter cries out to God, asking for God’s light and truth to lead the psalmist in worship. “Let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling.” The God he worshiped took center stage and could now lead him. It was able to become the light in the darkness that led him through the blizzard.

And those enemies who’d asked where his God was? They were silenced. Never mentioned in this stanza because the psalmist could point and say, “He’s right here, with me. Leading me. In worship of him.”

On his knees, the psalmist found an altar worthy of Yahweh’s worship. Though far away, he could praise just the same as on the holy mountain. Worship was no further from the songwriter than God was.

His God was with him. Right there.

Right here.

And notice the truth of this moment. Witness the light of the misfit. It was exactly when the psalmist quit thinking of his unfulfilled desires as making him “unfit,” and started focusing on the worship of God, that his desires came true.

He’d longed to lead the people of God in worship. But as long as that was his focus, failure and depression were all that he could find. However, as soon as he surrendered to the purpose of God, as soon as he started seeing the purpose of his “unfit” nature, he found the light of the misfit.

And lit the way from the front.

This song wouldn’t lead anyone to worship God, if the writer hadn’t surrendered to God during it. It was because of his time in the darkness of his dying soul that he could lead us in worshipping our life-giving God. He found the purpose for his “unfit” nature because he looked to the God who made that purpose for him.

Because he let the light of God fill him first.

I don’t know what setbacks are sending you into depression this season. And numerous things could make us feel like misfits throughout these weeks. But I do know that God has a purpose for them. He has a song for you to sing. A team of reindeer to lead through a blizzard.

But it’ll only happen when we surrender to his light. When we focus on him and his purpose, instead of our failures and shortcomings.

Each of us will have our own unique place to shine. Some in a cave, pulling the teeth of the enemy. Others to lead the way through the darkness. And a few even to put the star on the top of the Christmas tree. But the truth is that we have to realize the purpose of our “unfit” nature before we’re able to worship.

So, let’s focus on God and his light. Only then can we shine forth the light of the misfit.