Darkness can be mysteriously comforting. If you’re anything like me, you can’t sleep at night unless the space you occupy is completely black. The less light that enters, the more content I become and the longer I sleep. When morning dawns and light tries to infiltrate my blanket of darkness, I am ignorant and unaware, sleeping soundly, comfortably. In that moment, the shadows act as my treacherous ally, allowing me to believe that my world is at peace simply because it cannot be seen. The darkness has an eerie way of inducing feelings of safety, while at the same time concealing anything that may aim to bring us harm. We have all been sleeping soundly one minute, and then, without warning, we are suddenly awoken by a nightmare or a sound from the other side of our bedroom door. What’s the first thing you reach for when the disturbance that has caused your angst is camouflaged by the night? You turn on the light. 

If our first response to a bump in the night is to switch on the light, then why do we allow ourselves to grow comfortable in the stagnancy of our own personal darkness? We all have it – that one thing, that one wound, that one issue that we are scared of acknowledging, so we give it permission to push us further into the shadows. The issue, the wound, that one thing doesn’t create the darkness. We create an environment subject to the shadows when we refuse to deal with our stuff. We tell ourselves that it’ll pass, or that we’ll deal with the issue later. We whisper to ourselves that time heals all wounds, and that the one thing we struggle with doesn’t define us. Instead of facing it, we cower back into our comfort zones and become acquainted with our complacency. Our swords start to grow dull as we are too consumed with running away from the wound, that we forget to run toward the Light. 

I have those wounds; a past marked and created by insecurity and a desire to be wanted and in absolute control. That’s my vice, my own personal darkness. The one thing, that if not turned toward the Light, rears its ugly head in the worst ways and at the worst times. This is the vice that all my other wounds have been born from. I have tried running from it; avoiding it at all cost, hoping that as time passes the wounds fade into the background with my memories. I have tried substituting it; chasing after people and things to distract myself from the true problem. I have tried fixing it myself; striving to make up for the mistakes I’ve made, hoping that some sort of healing can be bought with my good actions. Time after time, these solutions end up being temporary fixes that only make the darkness seem a little less dim. The truth to this inability to heal myself is because I am too ashamed to let in the Healer. I am fearful the Light will sting, and that my wounds are too heavy. I’m scared of being vulnerable enough to humble myself to the curing touch of the Ultimate Healer. I am terrified that the Healer will refuse to meet me in the dark. 

The darkness, once acquainted with you, is terribly great at letting you forget that the Light never faded. It’s extremely wicked in that it lets you believe you are too far out of reach for The Healer. Here’s the upside down truth: you don’t have to meet The Healer in the dark, because he has already met you exactly where you are. Jesus, whether you asked Him to be apart of your mess or not, has already set up camp in the midst of your blackout. He is counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds that you finally take off your jaded glasses and see that He has been standing right in front of you this whole time. Your solution, the answer to the root of your issue, is Him. 

My wounds started to heal, truly heal, when I started spending time in the presence of the Healer. My past, once marked by shame, was made completely new in one single second spent in His timeless grace. The control and the anger that I continually battle with, ceases in peace as rage turns to mercy by the gentle sound of His voice. Warriors, the darkness flees for its life at the very thought of Jesus entering the room. So, as the King meets us there, we have to look up and choose to hand over the things that are holding us back from being all that He has called us to be. We have to extend our arms and choose to receive the healing that He wants so desperately to freely give us. Sometimes, this means letting go of people or things that keep us from stepping out of the darkness and into His Light. Sometimes, the battle becomes heavy and the process gets too difficult for us to bare alone. This is when we have to remember that we are already wrapped in the Light of The Healer. Piece by piece, He is stripping away the old to make room for the beautifully new. As the darkness falls away, you are left with a soul that has been resurrected by a God so fierce and so loving that you are forever changed. 

You can trust the source of this Light because, in Him, there is no darkness to be found. He is so completely full of loving Light that darkness isn’t dark to Him. If this is true, then that means your own personal darkness will never even come close to overpowering the name of Jesus. 

My prayer for us this week is this –  we would be so completely wrapped up in His Light, that when darkness does come for us, we can face it with a peace that causes it to flee. I pray we learn to approach The Healer with bold humility, as we run toward the Light with our wounds, instead of away from Him and into the darkness. 

“Where can I go from your Spirit?

   Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

   if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

   if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

   your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

   and the light become night around me,”

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

   the night will shine like the day,

   for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my innermost being;

   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

   your works are wonderful,

   I know that full well.”

(Psalm 138:7-14)