My fingers tap lightly against the keyboard.
Slightly out of sync with the cursor blinking on the empty page. My arch nemesis that empty page. It feels even more ominous right now.
I know I said I was working on The Love Scam. It’s still swirling in my brain but it’s swirling in a less pressing part. Because my circumstances have changed drastically. And to be honest, I don’t know how to process them.
I’ve figured out that I have a pattern to reactions- verbalize, internalize, write. So contrary to some opinion, the words you write usually have been processed and thought about before they’re written. But this situation? This one I’m still internalizing.
One thing I have been thinking about though is how suddenly we can be in a new season of life. Ever think about that? My friend Josh Wilson sings a song about things being darkest before the morning. The moment right before daybreak. When it’s pitch black and freezing and hopeless. That moment.
It’s the worst moment in life. We all experience it and we will all continue to experience it. There is a dark before the morning in every life. But what I really started thinking about is how we get from daylight to darkness. Typically we don’t know when darkness is coming. Sure, hindsight is 20/20 and we see when the sun started moving across the sky and sunset began. But we miss the encroaching darkness thus being ill prepared for the onset.
It’s a phone call from the doctor. It’s that text message. It’s an email you never wanted to see. We’re all one split second from a life changing moment. Our world tilts upside down, we fall down, shattering in the process.
Eventually we regain our footing, the world stops spinning, we shake our head, blink a few times and realize darkness is still there even with your eyes open.
At first you try to figure out where you are and what just happened. You fight the darkness. You get angry at it. You raise your fist and shout as loudly as you can, hoping someone will hear. When the inevitable silence shouts back, you try to adjust to living in darkness. But it gets darker ad darker as your hope gets smaller and smaller. It seems darkness will be your future companion.
You close your eyes knowing that maybe some day when you open them light will be there. You crack one open and see something. Could that be it? Did I just see the faintest hint of gold and pink on the horizon? No… It can’t be. It’s been too dark for too long. You’ve forgotten what sunlight looks like. It’s just your imagination playing tricks on your weary heart.
And against all hope the sunrise starts it’s painfully slow ascent. Minutes feel like years. The warmth of the sun doesn’t quite reach you but the golden tentacles stretch out like someone waking from a long hibernation.
Before you know it the horizon appears. The horizon of a new day. New promises. New hope. New mercies. New life.
My circumstances feel so much like this. More often than not ideal like I exist in the sudden and terrifying darkness wondering what went wrong. Which is right where I am today.
But friends if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that morning is coming. The sun WILL rise. His mercies ARE new. He IS faithful. There is no room for guessing in His promises. Only absolutes.
So wherever you are- a sudden darkness, the darkest part of the night, sunrise, or resting in the new day, know that when your darkest night shows up, morning comes.
Morning is where we see the glory of God revealed.