Darkness Defeated

  
I used to be absolutely terrified of the dark. As a child, I suffered though nightmares and anxiety and phobias, all associated with darkness. I even dreaded going to sleep at night because of my fears.

Eventually, I overcame those fears through the normal process of growing up. That and I would cram every stuffed animal I owned in the bed with me when I went to bed at night.

Lately it occurred to me that if a single candle can dispel all the darkness in any given room, then darkness is revealed to be powerless and impotent.

Jesus stated that He is the light of the world. He has already overcome darkness and everything associated with it. In fact, He has already overcome anything we could ever possibly be afraid of.

That’s a very comforting notion in a world where anxieties run rampant and fear rules the major part of the lives of the majority. In fact, both the news and social media are driven by fear.

Fear has no place in God’s economy. Perfect love casts out fear. The more one truly knows and understands how much he or she is loved, the less place there is for fear, because love and fear cannot co-exist within the same human heart. One displaces the other.

The ultimate destiny of darkness is defeat. There is no scenario where darkness ultimately overcomes the light. The only way darkness wins at all is in the absolute absence of light. The only way evil wins in this world is when good stays silent and hidden.

The final victory of light over dark is found in heaven where there is no need of sun or moon or stars, because Jesus is the light there. There is no more night or darkness or shadows because there is no place where the light is not present.

Here, we are the light of the world. May we not only find deliverance from our own anxieties about darkness but be instrumental in helping others overcome as well.

 

 

God Bless Us, Every One!

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“Man’s maker was made man that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that Truth might be accused of false witnesses, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.” (St. Augustine of Hippo)

It’s Christmas Day.

For me that means a contentment that goes deeper than me getting all the presents I wanted. It goes even deeper than seeing the faces of family when they unwrapped one of my presents.

For me, contentment on Christmas Day comes from knowing that the baby born on this day doesn’t live in men’s hearts only one day of the year, but all the days (I “borrowed” that line from a movie I watched again earlier today).

The true meaning of Christmas will be just as true on December 26 and beyond. It remains true 365 days of the year, every year. Even on those weird leap years.

I’m content. Even if I watch every girl I’m ever interested in fall in love with someone else, I’m content. Even if I never get that dream job, I’m content.

God became human for me so that I could be like Jesus one day. So that everything that belongs to Jesus– perfect peace, complete joy, unending love, eternal riches– could be mine. Better yet, it is mine.

Like Scrooge, I don’t deserve to be so happy, but I just can’t help it. I really can’t.

May that kind of joy be yours on this Christmas Day and on every day that follows!

Joy in the Midst of Sadness

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I celebrated with the rest of the family as my niece turned 2. Finally, I can stop counting in months. I was seriously running out of fingers and toes to count on.

I loved seeing the pure unadulterated joy on her face when she saw her presents and the complete love and trust she has for her mommy and daddy and two big brothers. It did my heart good.

But I also remembered Adrian Peterson’s 2-year old son who was allegedly beaten to death by his mother’s boyfriend. My heart hurts and I have questions I can’t answer.

Who does that to a 2-year old? For what possible reason?

I know we live in a broken world filled with broken people. Creation groans for deliverance and for everything to be made right. Too many defenseless and helpless children suffer, too many people go to bed hungry, too many marriages fall apart, and too many die way too young.

Then I remember how this story ends. I cheated and read the last page. It’s about God wiping away every tear from our eyes. It’s about a new Jerusalem, a new heaven and a new earth where lambs lie safely next to lions, where others is no need for sun, moon, or stars because God is there.

I love what the guest pastor said. God didn’t want an only child, so He chose us to be conformed to the image of His Son Jesus and become heirs with Jesus to all the promises of God.

I love this version of Romans 8:29-30: “God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.”

That’s what keeps me going in the midst of so much suffering and sadness. That’s why I can find joy in everything. Because ultimately Love does win.

Things I Love 4: The Slow and The Lackadaisical

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In case you didn’t get the title, it’s the opposite of those never-ending series of movies called The Fast and the Furious. I think we’re probably looking at at least 18 more of those, so gird your loins.

But I digress. Back to the list of things I love, starting at #81.

81) Spontaneously starting up conversations with strangers with small dogs at Starbucks. The best part is that we’re not strangers anymore, but friends.

82) Finding out I wasn’t the only one who struggled with that or felt that way.

83) Finally getting around to seeing a movie I missed years ago and finding out it was worth waiting to see.

84) Listening to Morgan Freeman’s voice (if he ever narrated a book on CD, I’d buy it, even if it was Intro to Trigonometry.

85) Finding out that U2 finally has a NEW album coming out later this year.

86) The elegance and beauty of Grace Kelly.

87) That the end of the Greatest Story Ever Told has already written and it’s has the best ending ever.

88) Or if you prefer, all of history is like the title page and table of contents, and after it ends is the real beginning of the Real Story in which every next chapter is better than the last and where you don’t want to ever put the book down.

89) The peace that comes with acceptance that a friendship is over and that it has served its purpose and best of all, being thankful for the time we had.

90) Every time I see the transformative power of the risen Christ in my life.

91) Believing in love again and especially believing that there really maybe someone out there who will want and desire me.

92) Being in a place at night where you can see the stars.

93) The smell of chlorine. I know it’s weird, but it takes me back to going to the Y as a kid.

94) The smell of bus exhaust. Again, it’s strange, but this time it takes me back to the days of marching band trips.

95) Watching fireflies and listening to a symphony of crickets on a slow country night.

96) Seeing a mother who isn’t preoccupied or busy or glued to her smart phone and is loving on her child and living in the moment.

97) Those little candies called Smarties.

98) That I really can taste the rainbow when I eat a Skittles.

99) Listening to my cat snore.

100) The good feeling I get after eating a really good Southern home-cooked meal.

101) That there will be more of these blogs because there are so many more little things that I love.

Something Borrowed, Something Blogged

I got this out of a devotional called Streams in the Desert. It’s from July 26. I hope it speaks to you as loudly and profoundly as it did to me when I first read it.

Enjoy and thank me later.

“There are times when things look very dark to me–so dark that I have to wait even for hope. It is bad enough to wait in hope. A long-deferred fulfillment carries its own pain, but to wait for hope, to see no glimmer of a prospect and yet refuse to despair; to have nothing but night before the casement and yet to keep the casement open for possible stars; to have a vacant place in my heart and yet to allow that place to be filled by no inferior presence–that is the grandest patience in the universe. It is Job in the tempest; it is Abraham on the road to Moriah; it is Moses in the desert of Midian; it is the Son of man in the Garden of Gethsemane.

There is no patience so hard as that which endures, ‘as seeing him who is invisible’; it is the waiting for hope.

You have made waiting beautiful; You have made patience divine. You have taught us that the Father’s will may be received just because it is His will. You have revealed to us that a soul may see nothing but sorrow in the cup and yet may refuse to let it go, convinced that the eye of the Father sees further than its own.

Give me this Divine power of Yours, the power of Gethsemane. Give me the power to wait for hope itself, to look out from the casement where there are no stars. Give me the power, when the very joy that was set before me is gone, to stand unconquered amid the night, and say, “To the eye of my Father it is perhaps shining still.” I shall reach the climax of strength when I have learned to wait for hope. –George Matheson

Strive to be one of those–so few–who walk the earth with ever-present consciousness–all mornings, middays, star-times–that the unknown which men call Heaven is “close behind the visible scene of things.”

Haunted

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I spent some time yesterday at some land that’s been in the family for a while. We affectionately call it The Farm, although it hasn’t really been used for farming in a very long time.

Still, for me it brings back so many memories. I remember coming there every summer as a child and playing with my sister and cousin. That was back when I was sure I’d find a secret cave or a buried Confederate treasure. I never did, but the memories I have of those days are much more valuable than any old coins I could have found.

More than anything, I’m haunted by the memory of people who I miss. I still expect to see them there, like they’re as much a part of the place as the old buildings and trees.

I expect to see my uncle ambling down the road, wondering what funny story he had for me.  Or my other uncle coming down the gravel driveway in his Ford Bronco. Or maybe my grandmother sitting on the porch, smiling and singing an old hymn. I’d give anything to be able to go outside in the middle of the night with my cousin and do nothing but look up at the sky lit up with stars.

I especially miss when the whole family would get together once a year for a family reunion and the food would taste better and the conversations would be sweeter on that day than any other.

Every blade of grass holds a memory and every leaf is a reminder of days passed. I can pass through those gates and feel exactly like I did when I was 10 years old and still obsessed with old coins and baseball cards.

I think C.S. Lewis was the one who said that a pleasure is not fully consummated until it is remembered. It’s too bad I couldn’t fully appreciate those days and the people for what they were– a gift. But I have memories now that make me smile. And that’s enough.

 

 

Starry Beach Nights

Tonight, I took a short walk on the beach. It was great.

I had a t-shirt and shorts and a flashlight, so I could avoid stepping on anything sharp or living. At least that was my plan and it worked well for the most part.

It was a beautiful night. There were more stars out than I have seen in a long time and a cool ocean breeze was blowing in my direction. The sand and ocean water felt good on my feet.

I was alone on the beach and I felt currents of peace wash over me. I didn’t walk very far or stay out there long, but I stayed long enough.

Sometimes, you just need to get away from all the noise and the distractions and the hurry and find a place where you can be still and quiet and breathe. It doesn’t have to be the beach, but a place where you feel peaceful and at rest. A place where you can hear the still small voice of God.

When I get back home, I will find mine. I know I need to hear from God on a daily basis to keep my sanity and to know what to do next. Sometimes, I need to be able to still the other voices that clamor and contradict each other and tell me every way to go but the right way.

My prayer is that both you and I find those places where God speaks. My prayer is that we have open ears to hear and willing hearts to obey what we hear.

I think I’ll sleep good tonight.