When I sunk into a month of quiet and rest, I didn’t expect it to go the way it has. I knew I had some commitments and things that would keep me a little busy but I didn’t expect to fall flat on my face and wrestle into the darkness.
I left for a work trip within 5 days of beginning my season of rest. I was on a plane and traveling and working and enjoying the beach and working more and flying home. When I landed I felt pangry (people angry). My introverted self was screaming to be alone. So the day after I got back I was just about to turn my phone off for the night when I got a text message. An urgent text about health concerns for one of my sweetest friends. Serious health concerns. And there went my plans for the night.
As night turned to day and I ended up at the hospital to love on this sweet little love and his parents, I tried to find the rest in the midst of the uncertainty. But that night the situation got worse. There were increased measures to protect his little brain and it was overwhelming and scary. I petitioned my friends and community and my people to cover this sweet one. But then I laid in my bed and sobbed.
I sobbed for the brokenness of our world, the frailty of his body, the things he has yet to accomplish. I sobbed for the heartbreak his parents were enduring. I sobbed for the hurt and the longing for total restoration. I sobbed.
I sobbed until I had no more tears left.
I found myself admitting my weakness to Papa. Admitting the temptation of “good enough” seemed so appealing. Admitting I didn’t have the strength to resist. Admitting I wanted to be comforted and told it was okay. I wanted to turn to something, someone, anything to numb the ache.
There was no bargaining or anger or threats just a broken confession of how appealing temptation was in that moment and asking my Papa to meet me in that place. Because I needed HIM.
Within 2 minutes of uttering my tearful confession I received an audio file from my brother. My community, who doesn’t know my sweet friends but knew of their situation, had spent close to 10 minutes petitioning the Father on his behalf. I could hear the crackle of the campfire as they called on the power of our Papa. As they believed for miracles when I had nothing in me to believe.
My spirit groaned in agreement as I listened to my brothers and sisters cry out. I sat in my bed with tears streaming down my face coming into agreement for miracles and full restoration and a hope and a future. I felt my spirit turn towards the light of my Papa. As the prayer ended and the clip finished up, I laid back down with cheeks still wet and I knew a substitution would never be enough. I knew I was longing for my Papa. And when I had asked for Him… when I had cried out for Him to meet me in the place of sorrow and darkness, He brought His gentle light.
Because friends, darkness isn’t something to be afraid of. It is in darkness where we truly come to appreciate light. I think sometimes I’m so afraid to wrap my arms around darkness, to be engulfed in it because it must mean there is something wrong with me or my faith or my lack of trust in Papa. But the world we live in has darkness in it. And to ignore or deny or pretend it doesn’t exist doesn’t give the Cross credit for what it has done — take away the power darkness has.
So in this time of rest, I’m learning to face the darkness with hope. I’m learning to put darkness in its proper place. I’m learning to soak up the light and let it fill my bones to the marrow.
Because my Papa is light and He wins and darkness does not last forever.
What are you finding in this season of rest?
oh and my sweet buddy? Papa showed off His mighty strength and healed him. In miraculous ways.