In the Darkness ....... God
A small, beveled mirror hangs near the door of one of the now “extra” rooms in our home. Painted in faint black and white tones on its surface is a reproduction of Sallman's “Head of Christ,” probably the most well known visual representation of our Savior, although arguably, not an accurate one. Nonetheless, it evokes an awe rich with gratitude and compelling invitation. The painting is faint enough that when the room is filled just with the outside light that filters through the blinds on the windows, the image is barely discernible. Walking down the hallway though in the darker evening hours when the room itself is dark, and glancing at the short wall right angled at the entrance to the room, the image that hangs there is almost startling. The clarity of Christ’s face is crisp and almost tangible. It speaks profoundly of His presence, and His presence is most vividly known in the dark.
Sometimes we ask each other, when is it that God is the most real? God’s reality does not change with our awareness – it is absolute, constant, and not subject to whim or emotion – but our awareness does change. The mundane routineness of every day living can sometimes bring a dullness in our God-awareness. The truths we know in our head are still there, and if questioned about them, we would have the right answers, but the awareness of His presence is not throbbing or pulsing with a desperate, driving thirst, that is being quenched with the certainty of an almost tangible reality. We have our moments of celebration or fresh insight and the resultant profundity of praise, and those moments shout reality as well, but they are usually only moments. It is in the darkness, we see Christ best. The darkness may, at first, cocoon us, oppress us, and shut out the light, but as the throbbing, desperate, driving thirst reaches for the reality of God, it is found with an intensity that literally sees His face, feels the warmth of His love, feels the embrace of His arms, senses the strength of oneness with Him, finds purpose, and hope, and meaning. A reality of God that dries our tears, quiets our racing and irrational thoughts, helps us to put one foot in front of the other and walk through one day at a time, moment by moment. A reality of God that never tires, never reprimands, and always, always, welcomes us back. A reality of God that speaks truth into our confusion and clarifies the direction of our steps.
I have never asked God for the darkness, but the vivid reality I find in the darkness, I can find myself longing for when the mundane routineness, or the busyness, or the empty pursuits, seem to preoccupy my life. Stephen saw God when the stones were hurled at him. Hagar fled from Sarah and found God’s intimate care in the wilderness. In anguish and sorrow, Hannah knew the certainty of God’s provision. David’s fears were eclipsed by the nearness of his God. Mary Magdalene was restored by the compassion of Christ. And I watch today the woman who was abandoned, the one taunted by her memories, the mom who grieves the death of her child, the one challenged by health or finances, and in the darkness, she reaches, and God is seen and felt and known.
A small, beveled mirror hangs near the door of one of the now “extra” rooms in our home. Painted in faint black and white tones on its surface is a reproduction of Sallman's “Head of Christ,” probably the most well known visual representation of our Savior, although arguably, not an accurate one. Nonetheless, it evokes an awe rich with gratitude and compelling invitation. The painting is faint enough that when the room is filled just with the outside light that filters through the blinds on the windows, the image is barely discernible. Walking down the hallway though in the darker evening hours when the room itself is dark, and glancing at the short wall right angled at the entrance to the room, the image that hangs there is almost startling. The clarity of Christ’s face is crisp and almost tangible. It speaks profoundly of His presence, and His presence is most vividly known in the dark.
Sometimes we ask each other, when is it that God is the most real? God’s reality does not change with our awareness – it is absolute, constant, and not subject to whim or emotion – but our awareness does change. The mundane routineness of every day living can sometimes bring a dullness in our God-awareness. The truths we know in our head are still there, and if questioned about them, we would have the right answers, but the awareness of His presence is not throbbing or pulsing with a desperate, driving thirst, that is being quenched with the certainty of an almost tangible reality. We have our moments of celebration or fresh insight and the resultant profundity of praise, and those moments shout reality as well, but they are usually only moments. It is in the darkness, we see Christ best. The darkness may, at first, cocoon us, oppress us, and shut out the light, but as the throbbing, desperate, driving thirst reaches for the reality of God, it is found with an intensity that literally sees His face, feels the warmth of His love, feels the embrace of His arms, senses the strength of oneness with Him, finds purpose, and hope, and meaning. A reality of God that dries our tears, quiets our racing and irrational thoughts, helps us to put one foot in front of the other and walk through one day at a time, moment by moment. A reality of God that never tires, never reprimands, and always, always, welcomes us back. A reality of God that speaks truth into our confusion and clarifies the direction of our steps.
I have never asked God for the darkness, but the vivid reality I find in the darkness, I can find myself longing for when the mundane routineness, or the busyness, or the empty pursuits, seem to preoccupy my life. Stephen saw God when the stones were hurled at him. Hagar fled from Sarah and found God’s intimate care in the wilderness. In anguish and sorrow, Hannah knew the certainty of God’s provision. David’s fears were eclipsed by the nearness of his God. Mary Magdalene was restored by the compassion of Christ. And I watch today the woman who was abandoned, the one taunted by her memories, the mom who grieves the death of her child, the one challenged by health or finances, and in the darkness, she reaches, and God is seen and felt and known.
(Related Bible reading: Acts 8:54-60)
