A Walk in the Dark

A Walk in the Dark

Life, in all of her beauty and wonder is not, as it turns out, always kind. As often as you hear the cheers of triumphs and celebrations you hear the cries of those who have received the brunt of her malice. No different than a vast majority of the world's population since the beginning of time, I have been both at the mountain top and also in pits of despair so deep I feared light would never reach my hiding place.

My recent past has been quite possibly the strangest concoction of the entire spectrum of human emotion. I've experienced pain, pleasure, loss, gain, happiness, and sorrow, many at the same time. I have felt like the seams of my existence were stretched to their tearing point while crying tears of joy for the countless blessings with which God has lavished me. It has been a journey of epic proportions. To give you the "cliffsnotes" version: I brought the greatest joy of my life into existence through the birth of my first son, I lost my marriage about a year later (the one thing I swore to myself I would never let happen if my life depended on it), I found independence I never knew, I grew in great strides in my profession and reignited my love for teaching, I met the love of my life and fell in love with his two tiny humans as well, we became a family of 5, I experienced the toughest financial times of my life, and I continue to navigate it all by the grace of God and whatever grit and determination I have left.

It wasn't long ago that I found myself feeling like I was drowning. Nothing really had changed, it just had all caught up with me and, while I knew I was not failing, I didn't know how much longer I could keep it all up. How much longer could I fight so many battles at once and not fall to my knees and let the world swallow me whole? It was on this night that my husband, my pure, gentle, wonderful husband, did everything he could to reassure me. He held me and asked me what I needed and told me I was wonderful and reminded me that everything was going to be "okay". That word. That tiny, pathetic, useless word. It seems harmless. God knows we use it enough that it creeps into our vocabulary and goes completely unnoticed. But it's dangerous. It sends shutters down my spine. "Okay". That night, the word struck me like lightening. I laid in bed, restless, trying to be still, listening. And I heard it. That still, small voice that we listen for and so often miss. We were not created to be "okay". We were never meant to lead okay lives or raise okay children or have okay dreams. I know what my husband meant. He meant the same thing as everyone else who has ever uttered the phrase "it'll be okay". He meant that the pain and the struggle wouldn't last forever. It would pass, just like everything else and one day we would step into our greatness. But it was that night that I decided to never settle for "okay" again.

To my knowledge, God doesn't use the word "okay" to describe any of His promises. He doesn't say that we will live lukewarm lives, content with mediocrity. No! He says that He will do "immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine"(Ephesians 3:20). Now, I don't know about you but I can imagine big stuff! I can dream all day about what I could do if only..... how successful I could be if only...... what my life would look like if only.... but God says he can do MORE! He will "meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19)! If there ever was a time to scream "hallelujah" it is now, people!

But that still, small voice wasn't quite finished. Soon after, I was bombarded with a message that carried with it a heavy dose of humility. God does not force his blessings on us. He doesn't shove his grace down our throat like an ill-tasting medicine. It's because of this that we are required to put forth a little effort. I'm reminded of the story from John when Jesus saw a blind man. It's no surprise that Jesus healed the man's eyes and he was able to see again. What we may not realize, however, is that after Jesus spat in the dirt and made mud and placed it on the man's eyes he told him to get up and go to Siloam and wash. The man had to take the first steps of his healing in complete darkness. So many times we are told of God's love, reminded of His promises, reassured of His blessings, but we miss our part of the story. We must "get up and go", and many times the first steps are in total darkness.

The way may be dark (for now), and there may not be any evidence or proof that God has restored your sight. But take the first steps. Walk towards those still, small words. Lean in, push forward, follow the warmth of the Light that shines on your face. There are no guarantees. But there is grace. Don't settle for the "okay" promises of this world. Get up and go, run, sprint for the "immeasurably more" promises of Christ! See if He will not "throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room to store it" (Malachi 3:10).

0