While it was still dark

“Things always look better in the morning.”

My mom said this to me a number of times while growing up. I’ve carried on the tradition of saying it to my kids. And saying it to myself.

No matter what my current subject of anxiety is, it always spikes like a fever at night when I’m trying to fall asleep. I think there are two main reasons for this:

First, I’m tired and it’s nearly impossible to keep things in proper perspective in that state. As someone who is under medical supervision for anxiety, I’ve become an expert on my patterns and tells. Anything that was mildly stressful during the day will become a life-threatening crisis by 9 or 10 PM.

Secondly, it’s dark.

I have never been a fan of darkness. In all honesty, as an adult, I’m still scared of the dark. Not because of what the dark can do to me. But what may be hiding in the dark that I can’t see. Dark = bad. Light = good. Yes, even when I’m trying to sleep, even when I’m watching a movie.

In both scenarios, your ability to see is compromised. And it can be paralyzing.

Now if we can get a grip and wait, the morning light tends to bring a clear head, clear vision and a logical way forward.

But what about when that’s not an option?

What if the situation is so dire that sleep eludes you?

What if you can’t wait for the clarity and safety of the morning?

What if you have to move forward while it’s still dark?

Every morning this week, I’ve gotten up while it’s still dark. A couple times on purpose, a couple times from anxiety. And this morning, well, all I can say is God had to drive His point home and woke me at 4 AM to finish this post.

(But there is a terribly enthusiastic bird outside my window. Not sure if God put him there as company, or just to keep me from dozing off.)

Each morning I’ve woken up, the words have been on my heart ‘while it was still dark.’ And I knew what I had to write about today.

It’s Good Friday. Good for one reason alone: Jesus died and all believers’ salvation was secure for all time, past, present and future. I guess at this point of His wretched last hours before the cross, He was still going through the sham of the ‘legal process,’ which would ultimately condemn an innocent Man to death.

He was running on no sleep. It was dark, save the light of the lamps of His accusers. He was alone. One friend betrayed Him to the authorities. The rest fled in terror.

And God was silent.

All Persons of the Trinity knew the plan. They had been tirelessly working it out since the creation of the world. Foreseeing the future, the Father knew His children would fail. His perfect fellowship with them would be broken and they would be doomed to hell.

Unless…

I always picture the Father, Son and Holy Spirit sitting around a table, coming up with The Plan, the ultimate plan, the ONLY plan that could spare Their lost children from the eternal consequences of their imperfection. And it rested squarely on the shoulders of Jesus.

He would become a man, be born as a baby, live a perfect life and die a criminal’s death. His life in exchange for ours.

I picture the Father and the Spirit looking at each other in a terrible mixture of horror and hope, grief and relief, then looking at the Son for His response. I see Jesus closing His eyes and flashing forward in His infinite mind to 33 years of earthly toil and dying what many scientists refer to as the single most painful and torturous form of execution that the twisted human mind could come up with.

And then the faces of His beloved, flawed children begin to run through His mind. Helpless to save themselves from the spiritual separation. He opens His eyes, resolute with purpose and says, “I’m in.”

The plan was in full swing at this point. No angel would be permitted to intervene and neither the Spirit nor the Father would comfort Him in any way. The suffering and death must reach the ultimate low for The Plan to work.

But the cosmos was so wrecked by the temporary dismantling of the Trinity that earthquakes erupted and darkness covered the land in the middle of the day.

Darkness.

Mary Magdalene knew it well. For years her body and soul were abused and tortured by seven demons that had inhabited her. Until Jesus, that is. His healing brought light to her darkened eyes and life to her broken body. He saved her life and her soul. And she was forever grateful.

She stood at the cross with Jesus’ mother as He died. She helped the others hastily wrap His dead body and place it in the tomb as the Sabbath was rapidly approaching and there was little time for a proper burial.

The Sabbath was now over, along with everything else she knew to be true.

But that would not stop her from honoring her Lord one final time. She gathered the embalming spices and set out toward the tomb while it was still dark (John 20:1).

Her hopes and dreams were smashed. But her desperate love for her Lord and passionate sense of duty drove her forward. Even in the darkness.

I love the image of her tearfully but determinedly making her way to the tomb early that morning, while it was still dark. Arms burdened with spices, heart burdened with hopelessness.

But her mind, though foggy with grief and lack of sleep, was made up. She may be arrested for being associated with Him. She may be executed as well. She would go to her Lord regardless. And she would continue to follow Him, even though there was no place to go.

Sometimes God asks us to keep moving forward while it’s still dark.

Maybe our life as we know it has been destroyed beyond repair.

Maybe a tragedy has befallen us that we will never recover from.

Maybe a relationship has been crushed, with no hope of resolution.

We see no way forward. We have no promise of resurrection for our situation. And yet, Christ’s love compels us (2 Corinthians 5:14). The story is not over.

The morning will come. No one knows the day or hour (Matthew 24:36), but it’s coming. And that is a lot more hope than Mary had with her that morning.

We can keep going.

Last night at the Maundy Thursday service our pastor read a passage that ministered to my heart in so many different ways:

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life. Revelation 21:22-27

Someday there will be no more night. I won’t have to replace any lightbulbs. I won’t have to scramble for my phone or flashlight when the power goes out.

I will no longer be afraid of the dark, because there will be no more fear. And no more dark.

So while it is still dark in this life, let us be unhindered and undistracted as we move forward, always toward Jesus. Because we know something Mary didn’t:

He is risen, indeed.