Sitting in the Darkness

There are seasons when the darkness feels so thick it’s as if you’ve been submerged in black honey–thick, suffocating, and you are coated in it. Shadows wrap around you like a blanket that offers no warmth. You can’t sense God’s presence. You can’t see His hand, because nothing can be seen in complete darkness.

You stumble through that darkness, trying to find your way, reaching out for something solid you can hold onto. But each step hurts as you continue to bump into and trip over unexpected things. You get hurt over and over until you no longer want to move at all. So, you curl up into a ball. You become still and small. Stillness seems safer than experiencing another wound.

There are many kinds of darkness. The darkness of illness and pain. The darkness of financial strain or failure. The darkness of loss—of jobs, of dreams, of those we love. The darkness of watching a child suffer and being powerless to take away their pain. Each one is so very heavy. Sometimes, they are compounded. The heavier it gets, it seems to pull us down deeper and farther and away from light. It becomes so heavy that we can no longer carry it, so we stop trying and simply sit. We sit in the darkness. 

I've sat in those dark places. And slowly, painfully, I've discovered something unexpected: the darkness itself becomes a teacher. Not because suffering is good, but because even there, there are lessons that can be learned. There is truth that can be found. 

I’ve learned that being in a dark room doesn’t mean you’re alone. Others are there, too. You just can’t see them because of the obvious: it’s hard to see things in deep darkness. Like you, they are quiet, unseen, and hurting in their own way. Yet if you dare to call out, “Marco,” chances are pretty good that someone will answer back, “Polo.” Voices will respond to yours, but it begins with you gathering the courage to break the stillness and the quiet and call out.

And Jesus—He is there too. Even when the darkness makes it impossible for you to see Him, you can still reach out for Him. If you can’t stand, crawl. If you can’t crawl, then sit and reach out. Stretch your arms out into the unseen space before you. When you sit and reach for Him, He will find you. 

Even in the darkest places, there is light that can be found. And, the Light knows your name. He knows your hurts, your wounds, and your fears. He will weep with you. Your pain matters to Him. 

Then, when you’re ready, He will take your hand and lead you. Step by step, He will teach you how to walk through the darkness with Him. He won’t necessarily lead you out of it, but He will lead you through it. And, you will not walk alone.