Inevitably, our seven-year-old leaves his bathroom light on at night. The bathroom is adjacent to the back portion of his bedroom, which means the bathroom light becomes his default night light.
Each night, I wait until he is asleep, and then I go to turn off the bathroom light.
And every night it’s the same thing: it is super easy to walk into his room and switch off the light. The bathroom light makes clear the path!
The moment I switch off the light, however, it’s another story.
My son’s bedroom floor is forever littered with an assortment of Legos, Calico Critters, and magnetic tiles. I have learned the hard way just how painful a Critter-to-the-foot feels in pitch-black conditions - particularly when I never saw it coming.
(Innocent-looking Critters; devastating to the feet)
Gingerly, very gingerly, I now step as I exit his room each night.
—
Some seasons of life, it feels like we navigate the world with a night light. There is a bright idea, a vision, or a Divine Presence that graciously illumines the whole of our reality. Even amid difficult terrain, the Light frees us to step with a certain confidence and clarity about life. It allows us to maneuver around obstacles and pain points.
Have you known such seasons? In one now?
Some seasons, however, it feels like we navigate life with the kind of eyesight that comes upon us moments after the lights go out.
It’s pitch black, and questions rush to the fore - all of them feeling acute:
Where are we? What’s in front of us?
Where are we going? Can we keep going?
Who's with us? Is anyone with us?
How will we get out of this? Can we get out of this?
Have you known such seasons? In one now?
Such seasons slow us considerably because…
We can’t see anything.
Fear and anxiety blanket us.
And we rightly sense that even small objects on the terrain of life can do outsized damage to us in this particular state.
Gingerly, very gingerly, we walk such days.
—
One night, I decided not to do my slow tip-toe out of Leo’s room and back down the hallway. Instead, I leaned against one of his walls, let my body slide down into a seated position, and waited for a few minutes.
What happened? Nothing, really.
Other than the same thing that always happens once we let our eyes adjust to the darkness.
We begin to see again.
No, not with the same depth and perception as when the light is flooding in. But, always our eyes do, in fact, adjust.
We begin to see the…
…sharp obstacles,
…notable barriers,
…and also the contours of a path forward.
And - precisely because the darkness heightens all of our senses - we often see certain things even better than if we had been in light the whole time.
In my case, as I remained seated on the bedroom floor for those few minutes, I heard quiet breathing. I saw the slow rise and fall of a slender, seven-year-old body. The darkness flooded my senses with renewed clarity about who and what really matters.
—
If yours are currently sunny days of clarity, conviction, and progress - give thanks! Celebrate! Truly. We need to name our wins anytime we have them.
If yours are cloudy, overcast, or downright dark days - well, much can be said about such times.
But, for now, consider this:
Is it possible you will find deeper clarity, conviction, and confidence precisely because of the darkness?
The eyes of your heart know how to navigate the deep valleys (after all, they are hardly alone).1
And ultimately, they have a way of finding a uniquely sharp clarity in that space - especially regarding who and what really matters.
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” - Mary Oliver
One of the reasons Psalm 23 has been one of the most beloved promises in Scripture? It names a basic truth about the darkness: Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil, for You are with me…
This was so good that I just shared it to my Facebook feed. Beautiful message, and I think we can always benefit from hearing this reassurance. I’m excited to hear the podcast soon!
Beautiful thank you for sharing ❤️