Moving toward the Light

This past summer, I was able to travel with my two adult children to four national parks. With the limits of travel due to the quarantine, we made a road trip and went to Yosemite, Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, and Glacier. I made a goal of seeing the sunset in each park at least once.  

As I watched the sun descend behind a set of mountains, it was so gradual that I hardly noticed. The only changes that I noticed was in what changed around it; the space from where the sun was to where it disappeared. Its brilliance was evident even when it was no longer visible.  

Psalm 139:12 (CSB) says, “Even the darkness is not dark to you. The night shines like the day; darkness and light are alike to you.”

The concept of darkness and light appear to us as polar opposites. However, God doesn’t see the way we see. My experience with darkness came over two years ago, when my husband suddenly died the day after we came home from a mission trip to Costa Rica. The darkness descended and took me into the depths of grief and despair. I lamented with the Psalmist in Psalm 88:18 (CSB), when he said, “darkness is my only friend.”

How do we reconcile experiencing darkness in our lives while clinging to the One who is the Light of the World? Much like the sunrise and sunset, light comes gradually through the darkness, little by little. For me, the light began to bring glimpses of hope in the midst of the worst months of my life. God’s Word became the light that I could cling to as I read the Psalms and was reminded of God’s presence, protection, and provision in my life. Psalm 46:1 (CSB) was absolutely true: “God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found.” Trusting the promises of God and believing that what God said He would do was formational in turning my darkness to light.

When we were driving to Yosemite this summer, there’s a tunnel you go through as you approach the viewpoint of El Capitan. The tunnel is completely dark except for the light from behind and ahead. The cars don’t stop in the tunnel in the dark. They move forward toward the light. God’s Word is our light to keep us moving forward. The Psalmist says, in Psalm 119:105 (CSB), “Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path.” When we are in the dark, we can cling to this promise. We might not get our entire path illuminated for us, allowing us to see everything. Rather, we might take a small step with the light we have as we trust the One who is leading us. Darkness and light can coexist in the same space. It’s not one or the other. It’s allowing both to bring us closer to the True Light.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Creating Hope

After college, I worked with children with special needs in a child development center. One of the activities I would create for the children was an art project, usually with a theme or related to the season of the year. I remember distinctly that it was all about the “process, not the product.”

Earlier this year, I attended a conference where I was a participant in a large group doing an art activity using paints and a 5 x 7 canvas. When I sat down, the facilitator led me, step by step, to create an image following her instructions. The next day, I had some free time and found myself returning to the paints and canvas to create my own image. Finding myself looking at a blank canvas, I took the paint and began the process.

I didn’t have a plan in mind, but allowed myself to pay attention in the discomfort of not knowing what was next. It was a familiar feeling I experienced shortly after my husband suddenly died. I had no clue what was next. But I did know I needed to find some hope.

Hope is like a dimmer switch, slowly illuminating the dark space we find ourselves in after our loss. Hope, like the painting I made, didn’t form in one swoop. Hope emerged and inched its way into my soul as I took the next step, did the next thing, and trusted what I didn’t know yet.

What we can’t see yet, but know is coming, is hope.

It requires a level of trust where we move forward, still grieving, but holding on and creating hope one step at a time. Trusting God in the unknown, while knowing we are loved, seen, heard, and known by our Abba Father, will create the hope we need.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download