In Darkest Night, the Brightest Light

by mymorethanme

woman looking out windowHe reveals deep and hidden things; He knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with Him. Daniel 2:22

In the upstairs room where I daily go, I closed the door behind me and sat cross-legged on the floor. Cross-legged, cross-eyed, cross. A promise had been released, a promise had been received, a promise had been rescinded. What the hell? And I mean what the hell. I hurt like hell.

I wasn’t really angry. My heart had sunk deep in my gut and was sick. I felt abandoned, rejected, alone. Betrayed. Lost. I had felt the whisper breeze of freedom blow through my body and suddenly, rudely, felt the wind knocked out of me as the cell door clanked shut in my wake.

So I sat, staring out the smudgy window, searching wispy white feather clouds for sacred answers through eyes streaming tears the clouds weren’t shedding.

Deluged by dismay, a mudslide of emotion spilled from the pain pit I had struggled to stifle in order to be holy.

Shoulders sagging, wracked with soggy sobs I whisper-shouted at the sky, “WHY?”

The sky stayed silent.

It was day, but it was night.

And then, a new day dawned.

As I was giving into all-consuming darkness I felt, in the pain place, a stirring. A faithfully flickering flame still fighting for air. Dead center in deepest darkness I found love alive, still lit. I sigh-breathed on it and felt it grow. I felt its warmth. I saw its dance.

In the pain, hope lived. In the pain, life lived. In the pain, love lived. In the pain, promise lived. In the deepest, darkest night, light lived. My Promise had not deserted me. My Promise was devotedly mine.

Woeful whys turned to vehement cries as washed by weeping I lifted head and hands and laughed and praised and sang.

Wishy-washy doubts drifted away as bold declarations of goodness, faithfulness and love poured forth.

Muddy waters ran clear; I was cleansed.

In my body pain remained, however, my heart was healed. Still fractured, I stood whole. Feather light, I pulled open the door and walked out.

I was free.

A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that’s unlocked and opens inwards; as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push. -Ludwig Wittgenstein

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