I’m scared of the dark.
That’s right. Me. Thirty-six years old. Scared of the dark.
Most of this probably comes from the overactive imagination that the Lord has blessed me with. The dark itself is not what I’m afraid of. It’s what’s hiding in the dark. Any scary image I’ve ever seen feels terrifyingly real at night. I don’t like dark.
I don’t like not being able to SEE when I wake up in the middle of the night. I want to wake up and immediately have my bearings, know where I am, where my people are, what’s happening, etc.
My big sister, Alison, has always liked pitch-black dark when she sleeps. (Most people do, actually.) That always presents a challenge when we’re traveling together and have to share a room, which we’ve done our whole lives. It usually goes something like this:
[I walk out of the bathroom, leave the light on and the door partially open.]
Ali: No, that’s too much light. I can’t sleep like that.
Me: But what if I have to pee in the middle of the night? How am I supposed to see?
Ali: Seriously. You have to turn off the light.
Me: No, I don’t like it totally dark. I’ll crack the door. (Close bathroom door a little more.)
Ali: Nope, not enough.
Me: You might have to get up in the middle of the night too, you know.
Ali: I need dark!
Me: Gyah, you’re such a diva. (Pull the door to, but not completely closed. Trip over something because I CAN’T SEE. Say a bad word. Get into bed in a huff.)
[Pause.]
Ali (singing quietly with a smile): “Hello, darkness, my old friend…”
Me (reluctant chuckle): Whatever.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I’m feelin’ it, y’all.
That heaviness. That defeat. Overwhelmed by obstacle after obstacle rising up in my path. Weary for the world on the brink of exploding. Confused about the right way to respond to crises, both large and small. Frustrations and struggles in relationships, jobs, ministries. Giants, waves, whatever biblical reference you want to use for opposition.
I know the answers. I know the Bible verses. “Greater is He that is in me than he who is in the world,” “In all things, we are more than conquerors,” “Resist the devil and he will flee from you,” blah, blah, blah.
But the usual pep talks aren’t working. The worship songs are falling flat. Satan feels really big right now and the darkness feels suffocating. It makes me want to curl up in a ball in my bed and just sleep until it all goes away.
Lord, can You just, You know, DEAL with all that, please? No? You’ve got a plan? You’re trying to grow me? Crap.
Darkness has been romanticized. It’s been painted as mysterious, exciting, interesting. We make jokes about having a dark side to wink at something in our sin nature.
I do it myself. About myself. But the truth is, my dark side is no laughing matter. And I know that. That’s why I keep it in the dark. Maybe you can relate.
Anybody else grow up reading the Berenstain Bears books? There was one called Berenstain Bears: Scared of the Dark. Brother and Sister Bear were struggling with similar issues as myself and the lesson in the book was strikingly profound.
Darkness is a bluff.
Mama Bear showed the cubs that the sweater draped over the chair and the hat rack in the corner were not, in fact, monsters trying to eat them in their sleep. But in the dark, things look scarier than they really are.
(Mama Bear also got them a nightlight, which I don’t think is terribly unreasonable, even for a 36 year old. My husband disagrees. Thankfully for me, and much to Brad’s annoyance, our bedroom has a massive curtainless window that lets in plenty of the neighbors floodlights at night, so I can see just enough. Hee, hee.)
Spiritual darkness is a bluff as well.
Adam and Eve, the first people, the first sinners experienced the shame of sin and their immediate instinct was to hide. And we’ve all been covering up our junk ever since. Skeletons in the closet.
Satan uses shame to convince us that our sin is safest in the dark. Squirrel it away. Make sure nobody finds out about it. And for hell’s sake, NEVER take it to God in confession and repentance. He’s holy, perfect. And He’ll reject us.
If we take the bait and cooperate with those lies, the sin grows. Morphs into something much scarier than it really is. The sweater on the chair turns into a monster and suddenly we’re paralyzed in fear. The shame grows and we withdraw further and further into the darkness.
But here’s the truth:
God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5) and there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).
The God of the Bible does not have a dark side. He doesn’t have bad days. He’s never in a bad mood. His anger is righteous, His judgment is holy, His sadness is full of compassion and His mercy is a breath away. You don’t have to worry about catching Him at a bad time or just hoping He doesn’t change His mind about you.
While God is mysterious and His ways are unsearchable, He is not unknowable. His character is not shrouded in darkness. The Lord wraps Himself in light (Psalm 104:2).
The darkness of the world seems big and strong. Unstoppable even.
But the reality is, darkness is actually terribly fragile. Darkness has no strength, no properties of its own. Darkness is simply the absence of light.
In the first chapter of John’s gospel (one of my all-time favorite books of the Bible), John introduces us to Jesus. He calls Jesus ‘the Word,’ God’s walking statement to the world.
And in verses 4 and 5, John says of his Friend, “In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.”
And the darkness still doesn’t understand it.
Jesus, our example, showed up in a dark world and began to light it up. Darkness cannot extinguish light. It can only move away from it.
And then, as He has a tendency to do, He upped the ante:
“You (Christ followers, believers) are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven” Matthew 5:14-16.
Terrorism is spreading. The refugee crisis is ripping the country in half as people (even Christians) are viciously attacking each other over differing solutions. Sex trafficking. Abortion. Homelessness. Violence.
And even in my own small life the darkness has set itself up as a ferocious enemy. The hat rack in the corner has become a nine-foot Goliath waiting for me to oppose him so he can crush me. Yes, hiding in bed is sounding better and better.
What is the answer?
It’s found in the very first words God ever spoke to our world:
Let. There. Be. LIGHT.
Throw off the covers. Lift off the bowl. And move into the darkness.
The light of the world is not the sun, moon or stars. The light of the world is not LED bulbs, candles or flashlights.
WE are the light of the world. We are carriers of the light of Christ. And that light is the only hope for this dark world. It’s the only way people will see the truth. And the truth will set us all free.
Enter difficult conversations with grace. Find common ground and build on it. Support ministries offering relief. Volunteer. Feed the hungry. Hug the hopeless. Help the helpless.
As we approach the holiday season, I think of the pretty standard ending to most Christmas Eve services. We’re all given candles when we walk in. As the service concludes, somebody turns out all the lights (don’t like it, don’t like it) and everyone begins singing Silent Night. The pastor is holding a candle, the only light in the room.
As we sing, he lights the candle of one person on the front row. They turn and light the candles of those near them. Repeat.
The room is eventually full of light. After a closing prayer, we all walk out holding our candles, symbolizing taking the light of Jesus out into the world.
It’s not a perfect metaphor. Wax always ends up getting spilled on the carpet, causing fits for the janitorial staff. There’s usually a couple little pyro kids whose mothers are watching them like hawks to keep them from burning something or someone.
But we all know the message.
Darkness is the absence of light. So as light bearers, our job isn’t to hide from the darkness under the covers. Our job is not to yell at the darkness for being dark or hate the blind for not being able to see. And our job is not to keep all our light together in churches and Christian communities.
We must go out into the darkness in order to push it back. Expose the bluff for what it is. I don’t need to be scared of it. I need to walk right into it and watch it disperse. I’ve read the ending and I’ve got good news: The darkness doesn’t win.
Let there be light.
