A LIGHT IN THE DARK
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?Psalm 27:1 (NASB)
I remember well being small and afraid of the dark. The dark was the place all things scary lived—a place of nightmares. Countless times I woke screaming in the dark (my family can attest to this). At the sound of my cries my mother would come and turn on the light, and the darkness fled away taking all its fearfulness with it.
Sometimes my mother would leave the hall light on and my bedroom door open ever so slightly. That light slipping in through the door was like a guard at the gate. In my little girl thoughts, the darkness lost its power and nothing that lurked in the dark could come near me as long as the light was on. There were times I would wake during the night to find the light had been turned off and the door shut tight and the dark reached out and held my small heart in its fearful grip.
I did not like the dark! Truth be told, I still don’t.
Last night I was sitting in my office wrapping up a couple of things before heading home. My phone buzzed and I saw a text from my husband. I opened it and read.
Marc: Power is out
Me: How come?
Marc: Don’t know
Me: Is our neighborhood out or just our house?
Marc: Funny
Me: What?! Just wondering.
Marc: The neighborhood
Me: Stink!
“Ugh! I hate power outages,” I muttered to no one in particular. I sat quietly looking at the bird lamp tucked in the corner of my desk. It cast warm light beams across stacks of paperwork and I seriously considered staying at work until the power came back on. But that would be silly. And though I have been known to venture into the silly on occasion, I decided I needed to go home. Besides, I thought hopefully, the power could be on by the time I get there.
So, clinging to the hope of restored power, I locked the door to my office and headed to the parking lot for the short drive home.
Hope grew as I turned on to the street before my neighborhood and saw lights from windows spilling cheerfully into the night. As I approached the four-way stop at the corner leading into our neighborhood I smiled as I saw lights burning brightly in the houses directly across the street from where we lived. But as I turned onto our street, hope put on its running shoes and fled, disappearing into the darkness of our neighborhood.
I got out of the car and was immediately struck by the absolute silence. It was eerie. I stood in the driveway and looked at the houses across the street just as the moon ducked behind some clouds, taking her soft light with her. The darkened homes suddenly became slumbering giants; their windows like great eyes that had been closed and behind those closed eyes, shadowed creatures skulked. I shuddered inwardly as I scolded my too vivid imagination into submission. I turned facing my own house: DARKNESS everywhere! Have I mentioned that I don’t like the dark?
I headed up the stone walkway and heard rustling and the happy sound of wagging dog tails. The darkness could not dim the enthusiasm of these two four-legged, furry, bundles of welcome. I found this rather comforting. Marc appeared with a flashlight and opened the door for me as I walked inside. I had expected darkness, but to my delight found an oil lamp and several candles burning, their soft glow filling the living room with warmth and the fragrance of spiced cider and warm vanilla sugar.
A short time later we sat on the floor in the living room eating take-out by candlelight. It was true that we could not see very well as the darkness was heavy, but in the midst of the darkness we had light—not enough light to run—just enough light for where we were. A couple of hours later the lights came on and chased the darkness away just in time for us to call it a night. I blew out the candles and turned out the lights—being sure to leave the hall light on so I could see as I prepared the house for slumber.
I turned out the hall light and climbed into bed. Marc and the dogs snored softly and I lay there in the dark and began thinking about just how dark the darkness was. My imagination kicked into high gear and I began to hear noises and think about all manner of things hiding in the dark. I shut my eyes in an effort to quell my imagination but it was no use. I knew the darkness was still there, lurking just the other side of my closed eyelids. A moment later my eyes flew open—funny how loud the dark can be.
My thoughts turned to other things concealed by darkness and what if thoughts taunted me from their hiding places. What if illness comes? What if unemployment is hiding under the bed? As if my own life didn’t contain enough what ifs to ponder, I began to think about my family and friends and continued imagining: What if… Fear stirred and I suddenly felt like the small girl I once was. My heart cried out for help.
It was then light shone through the window and I realized that the clouds must have parted just enough to let the moonlight through. It was as if in response to my heart’s cry my heavenly Father had turned on the light and left heaven’s door open ever so slightly. I remembered how I once thought the light was a guard at the gate. The words David penned long ago in Psalm 27:1 came to mind, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” I realized then that the Light was far more than a guard at the gate—He is my very salvation. The LORD is my light and in Him there is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5).
Comfort replaced fear and my eyes became heavy as I whispered a prayer of thanks to Him who is the Light of the world and in whom no darkness dwells. As sleep tugged at my eyelids I thought of the light in the midst of the darkness, and smiled knowing that sometimes in life darkness decends, but the Light of the world is always with me. Sometimes He may provide enough light to keep running, and other times it may be as though He has left heaven's door open ever so slightly allowing just enough light for where I am.
Precious friend, are you surrounded by darkness? Are you imagining all the “what ifs” until fear wells up within your heart?
Read Psalm 27
Remember that even in your darkest hour the Lord is with you and His light will shine through the darkness as though He has left heaven’s door open ever so slightly. You may think you don’t have light enough, but He is more than enough. His grace is sufficient. The next time darkness engulfs you and you think you see slumbering giants through the shadows and fear grabs hold of your heart, join your voice with David’s, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?”
An Original Conversations at the Well
© Copyright by Diana Morgan, November 30, 2012