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Growing up on the farm, the darkness of the night was always mysterious, daunting, and a bit scary. One never knew what to expect walking a gravel road at night. Curious skunks, cranky raccoons, coyotes howling in the distance, swarms of mosquitoes, and swooping bats. These encounters are magnified when a person is not able to see clearly. You can’t see what you can’t see. My nervous meter, when walking those gravel roads, was always a bit higher at night than during the day. Why?
Control.
For me, it is easier to walk or even to run during the day. I can see. My situational awareness works better during daylight hours. Work is to be done. Things accomplished. Hopes and dreams feel possible. People are awake and so am I. Here, I feel, even if I am not, like I am in control.
Hit the lights. Everything goes dark. The certainties of the day that were once certain are now dressed in black. It is hard to see. It is hard to find a way in and through and out of the darkness. We have all been there. Maybe some of us are there now. When the lights go off, we may feel a loss of control. Scared about the road ahead. We may feel more vulnerable, unsure. This is no time to run. We need to learn to walk, again, this time in the dark.
Barbara Brown Taylor indicates that there are things that she has learned in the dark that she could never have learned in the light. Me too. Those seasons and stretches of darkness have taught me lessons about trust. When the lights go out, who do I trust? Not me. The Apostle Paul once said, “For me to live, is Christ….” The One who takes care of me during the day is the One who promises to sit with me through the night. The eternal presence and promise of Christ give us courage to walk when the lights go off!
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