In all of our lives, there are times of profound darkness: Suffering, hopelessness, conflict (internal and external), etc. But even in the darkest times, light may be found, and in the life of the Christian, I believe three particular lights shine brightest.
The first is (perhaps unsurprisingly) God. In his first epistle (Ch. 1, v. 5), John declares, “This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” God is the most brilliant and pure light in the Christian life, full of hope and inspiration. But, rather like the sun when it is night, God does not always appear present in our times of darkness. We see reflections of his light in the Scriptures, which constitute something of a spiritual moon, and his power sustains us (just as the warmth of the sun sustains all living things, even in darkness), but how easy it is to forget his importance to our lives. When it is sunrise or sunset or noon, when we are surrounded by light and beauty, how easy it is to “[b]e still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46, v. 10). Yet, it is precisely when we are filled with fear and encompassed by danger that it is all the more necessary to follow the commandment. The prophet Isaiah (Ch. 50, v. 10) writes, “Who is among you that feareth the LORD, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? let him trust in the name of the LORD, and stay upon his God.” Trusting, waiting, staying—these are the principal ways we interact directly with God. Prayer and singing, which perhaps spring more readily to mind as ways we interact with God, are specific instances where we consciously express these passive acts; they strengthen us to trust, to wait, to stay even while we are not praying or singing. In Psalm 130 (v. 6), the Psalmist writes, “My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.” In our darkness, we wait for God, just as someone at midnight waits for dawn.
The second and most apparently accessible light on which we rely is the Bible. Just as the moon reflects the light of the sun, the Bible captures and relays the light of God to a dark world with a specific luster appropriate to that world: It is the Words of God written by the hands of human beings. Just as Jesus, the Word, was made flesh, the Scriptures embody both the glory of God and the pain of the human experience, and they teach us our relation to God. The Scriptures do not merely show us what we ought to do; as Paul makes clear throughout his epistles to the Romans and to the Galatians, a law filled with demands could never save us, only condemn us. The Scriptures show us how what we ought to do relates to what we can do. It gives us a record of wise kings who make foolish mistakes, prophets who lose the will to live, disciples who struggle with their faith. It teaches us not merely what is right but what is right for us. We are humans, and interacting with a perfect God does not negate our imperfection. In the Acts of the Apostles (Ch. 17, v. 30), Paul tells to the people of Athens that there were times when God overlooked the greater part of humanity’s ignorance of his existence—and that those times have passed. That is not to say God’s mercy has vanished but rather that it has appeared to all. Now, we—all of humanity—have the command and the promise “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved” (Acts of the Apostles: Ch. 16, v. 31). To reconcile our imperfection to God, we need not bear the burden of perfection: We cannot. We must accept that he has borne the burden for us. We must do merely what we can, that is, to believe. The Bible teaches us how to believe and, having believed, how to wait upon the salvation of God.
But there are nights very dark indeed, in which there is neither sun nor moon—nights when we attend neither to God himself nor to his Word. Even in these times, there are stars, little suns so distant that to liken them to the sun itself seems a mockery but which nevertheless give their light. The apostle Paul says (in his Epistle to the Galatians: Ch. 3, v. 26), “For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.” Again, the apostle John writes (in his First Epistle: Ch. 3, v. 2), “Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” We who believe, the children of God, are not perfect, but we are the children of God. And we have this instruction from our Lord (in the Gospel according to Matthew: Ch. 5, v. 16): “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” For the time being, we may be a petty imitation, but it is our duty to imitate—for the faint light of our example may lead someone else to those greater lights of God and the Bible, either for the first time or again after a period of spiritual stagnation. Further, when we ourselves find ourselves in the most profound darkness, the lights of our sisters and brothers in Christ may, like so many constellations, guide us back towards those greater lights previously mentioned. Writing his First Epistle to the Thessalonians (Ch. 5, v. 5-11), Paul says, “Ye are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober. For they that sleep sleep in the night; and they that be drunken are drunken in the night. But let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love; and for an helmet, the hope of salvation. For God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ, Who died for us, that, whether we wake or sleep, we should live together with him. Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one another, even as also ye do.” It is our duty and our power as the children of God to empower one another: To comfort, to edify, to uphold.
These three lights—the Lord, the Bible, and the children of God—are always available to us. No matter how deep our night, there are true, honest, pure, and lovely things with the virtue and power to lift us out of darkness. Even when we cannot see him, the Lord sustains us. Even when we think we are lost, the Scriptures show us our path. And, even when we feel entirely separate from the divine (though we never truly are, as Psalm 139, v. 7-12 explain), we are always surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, each of whom is unique and beautiful and “complete in him, which is the head of all principality and power” (Epistle to the Colossians: Ch. 2, v. 10), ever ready to remind us of that fairest beauty of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then, we may, like the poet, say, “Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense. Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.” (Song of Solomon: Ch. 4, v. 6-7)
(Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski on Unsplash)
Comparing Notes 