Tuesday, January 31, 2012

A Few Hovering Headlamps


A Few Hovering Headlamps

Tonight I found myself hovering over a tiny camp stove in our pitch-black kitchen, during a neighborhood blackout.  The time was rolling past 6:00 and I was trying to make dinner for my family.  It was rather humorous with our little gas flame ablaze and my, half stockpot full, of water leisurely approaching a boil.  The whole thing reminded me of waiting for the light bulb in my Easy Bake oven to cook my cake as a little girl.  I could make this recipe with my eyes closed, and I might as well have.  However, I did have a few candlesticks burning on our nearby counter to help in my endeavor.   This adventure began to feel like a mini, pseudo camping excursion; my kitchen camping stove, Ken roasting hotdogs in the living room fire, and my three kiddos on the floor tightly surrounding our small battery charged DVD player.

As my wooden spoon circled the pan for the.  . . fifty-third time my mind got to thinking about back-in-the day when a campfire and a of couple candles were probably the norm once the sun went down.  I think we experience darkness and light quite differently than our early Church family members did.  The sunrise must have meant so much more to them after barely seeing their way through the darkness of night.   We have the modern ease of the flip of a switch.  After about twenty minutes of guessing that my mixture was well on its way to deliciousness, my husband adorned me with a headlamp on its last leg of usable power.   That speckle of light allowed me to barely see the cheesy pot of noodles in front of me. 

And then . . . a sigh, and a half grimace graced my face as this felt all too reminiscent of the last three months of my life.  Having totally upped and relocated five months ago many things have changed.   I find myself in a season, hopefully a short one, where it feels like I’m squinting through the darkness to see what God is up to in my heart and in my life. 

I’m continuing to learn that Jesus sometimes walks us into necessary darkness so we can see how great our need is for Him, the Light.  To see how much we want His brilliant light to dispel our darkness.  “Darkness” can look different for every one of us: a broken relationship, financial hardships, unmet longings and desires, past pain, the Enemies residue, lies we’ve believed about our self and others, strongholds of sin . . .the list is about as exhaustive as our hearts are.  He orchestrates seasons in our life when He asks us to take His hand and walk into our own personal “blackouts.”  I find myself there presently, in many different ways, realizing that my botched up headlamp isn’t enough, and with a larger realization that I need and want His light to shine, and shine brightly it does.  This is why it is said, "Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light." Ephesians 5:14.  It’s dark when we sleep, and it’s dark when things are dead. . . . . . . . . . . . . .Rise Up. 

Maybe you find yourself in a time of  “darkness,” uncertain of what is going on and what lies ahead.  It is ever so hopeful to remember that after the sunset there is always a Sunrise . . .after the blackout, the electricity will eventually come on . . . and after death, there is a promised Resurrection.   It is Jesus that will give us the light, His light, as we walk with Him hand-in-hand through times of necessary darkness.  

So there we were . . . me and my handicapped lamp, Ken with his, and my father-in-law with his tiny spot light, hovering over a little camp stove trying to help me see what the heck I was doing.  In the end, it was all made clear.  As soon as I plated the food, the electricity came back on.   Another smile . . . another sigh . . . just in time to enjoy the meal that was made while we were walking in the darkness.  Jesus really does have a great sense of humor. :0)

1 comment:

  1. Oh I can so relate to the experience of being led into the darkness to see and embrace the Light. Brokenness of self for the beauty of Christ--as Uncle Ralph so beautifully puts it! This feels like a scary, uncomfortable place to me... thank you for pointing out the beauty, the blessing of being in that place. Jesus IS there... and that is a good thing. My companions on the Road are there too... so glad you're one of them! Love you.

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