The Light Still Shines In Other Places

My finger traced the theoretical line arcing across the map, the wonder of it dawning across my imagination. On the other side of that line, a boy like me was pulling the covers a little tighter to keep out the cold. But I was sitting in 3rd period geography while a slightly greying Miss Kindler spoke enthusiastically about earth rotation and seasonal adjustments.

In my first decade of life, I sat in the light thinking about those in the dark. But in my fourth, I sat in the dark thinking of those in the light.

“Out of the depths I call to you, LORD! Lord, listen to my voice; let your ears be attentive to my cry for help.” (Psalm 130:1–2, CSB)

How long had I been kneeling here, feeling my way in the inky blackness of a rebellious soul? I’d seen the light before, felt its warmth on my face, but now it seemed so far away. Groping aimlessly, I tried to stand, but I was shackled to the floor by the weight of my shame.

“Yet I call this to mind, and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s faithful love we do not perish, for his mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness! I say, “The LORD is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in him.”” (Lamentations 3:21–24, CSB)

New every morning? Hope comes with the dawn?

Then I will sit in the darkness, and though I cannot see it yet, I fix my eyes on the horizon I know is just beyond my reach. I stretch forward and trace my finger along the line that will soon appear.

I will watch for the morning. His Word is sure. Hope rises. Jesus wins.