Bursting through the colored glass the light splashed across my face. The kaleidoscope of colors twisted and turned as the clouds pushed and pulled rays of light through the sky and across the cracked walls and crevasses of war marred stone. Though slightly chilled from the brush of wind on my back, the light warmed me through and through--all the way to my cold bones.
Standing amazed--stunned even--the light helped me to see mysteries and truths hidden in the darkness of time, hurt, and weariness. The light and the wind pushed aside the internal cobwebs birthing clarity to hidden visions and dreams.
That was the experience I had at the century old Chuny Abbey, France, as I walked on the stones and tiles that priest and lay-people alike walked on, knelt on, prayed on. Somehow in the ruins of this bombed out Abbey the light still poured through the remaining stained glass.
I felt the light and it changed me.
It's impossible to hide from light. Light will always find you. As a child, my mom rarely shouted me awake. She just turned on the light. And that was enough to pull me from slumber into awareness. Even with my head under the floral sheets, knowing the light was on was enough to stir me from sleep. I wished that light gone. I wished those frosted globes dark. But no amount of wishing would turn those lights out. Morning had come and it was time to wake up.
Our need for light is never attached to our desire for light. We will always need light. Just like water, a plant needs light to complete photosynthesis. Photosynthesis creates oxygen. Oxygen is the very breath in our bodies. Light is just as much a necessity for life as water or oxygen.
But desire?
Desire light?
Desire is an entirely different thing.
God brings light to our lives in many ways. Sometimes through people. Sometimes through situations. Sometimes through heartache. Sometimes through nature. Darkness brings a form of ignorance. Darkness allows us to blissfully reside in complacency, fast asleep, hiding from reality. But, just as it was in my childhood, once the light is on, escaping the light is impossible. There is no amount of wishing that will turn that light dark.
Now that I've stood in the light, there is a great fear in me. I'm afraid the cold black will haunt my heart again. Can I be honest? Sometimes I feel the icy fingers of darkness creep toward my heart threatening to shut out the sun. But I've lived in the light, in the warmth, in the joy. There's no way I can ever be satisfied to live in the dark or even the dimness of light's embrace.
In someways, I feel like a little child again...the one we all were when the lights first went out. The one we were before we grew accustomed to the dark. I'm scared of the monsters that might be under the bed or behind the door or just inside the closet.
But even if that darkness does come back, whether it's for a night or for a long while, I know that I'm not alone in the dark. The Holy Spirit is with me bringing light to every dark place in my mind, my body, and my soul. He will warm the cold places. He will bring clarity to my vision. He will give me passion to reach for my God-given dreams. And, even though I'm in the darkness now, He won't leave me in the dark forever.
