I read the term thick darkness twice this week, and now there’s no ignoring it. As it is, darkness holds the known and the unknown—the what-ares and the what-ifs—but thick darkness? I feel queasy just thinking about it.
I recall an ancient people, captives in a foreign land, when the plagues broke out. As if the water-to-blood, frogs, gnats, boils, and the rest, weren’t enough, a darkness—one that could be felt—covered the land for three days, and it wasn’t the be-careful-not-to-stub-your-toe-on-the-chair-when-you-go-for-a-drink-of-water-in-the-night kind of dimness. I imagine an utter absence of light, the oily tentacles of fear threatening to strangle the already battered citizens with their every move.
Yes, I wrote a blog post about darkness a few weeks ago too. Trust me, I practice habits that perk the spirits, I really do. I run, read in the sunshine, enjoy coffee, prepare healthy food, laugh hard at least once daily with Husband and the girls—but still. Like you, I hear of gas lines, continuing sickness, border woes—and that’s just here. This week, I squint across the ocean to The Cup of Trembling too, and it all hurts. Who can deny the murkiness of the world?
My petitions turn to pleas: Snap on Your light, God. It’s getting hard to see down here.
But those two things I read come back. One was King Solomon saying he built an exalted house, even though “’the Lord has said He would live in thick darkness.’” My breathing calms. And then the second, one of my favorites:
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.
The thicker the darkness, the brighter the light.
Here comes The Glory.
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.