My name is Chris Thomas. A fortunate husband, a father of three and Dad to five, I’m an advocate of foster care as an implication of the gospel. I’m also a pastor at Raymond Terrace Community Church, a regional church based in the Hunter Valley, Australia. I mostly write about the gospel and how it informs both work and rest.

Tomorrow's Laughter

Tomorrow's Laughter

My eyes open and it is still dark. I know the world must still turn on its axis, but I cannot see it. Far from the beauty of pre-dawn light—the kind of light that robs the waking earth of vibrancy and leaves behind a peculiar muted glory—this darkness has no hint of light at all. This darkness is an inky midnight of imagined shadows and fanciful illusions of shape devoid of feature. I open my eyes wider, yearning for some stray fragment of light escaped from a distant burning orb to sear a flickering spot onto my vision, but the darkness does not falter. 

Can the darkness grow darker? Is it possible? Can silence grow quiet? Can sorrow grieve? Can loneliness lose itself in solitude? It seems it can.

Yesterday, when the sun was setting, I held high hopes for tomorrow. But yesterday’s tomorrow has been weighed and found wanting. Wish-dreams and fantasies could not leap from the turning page and deliver a fairy-tale’s happily-ever-after, instead they bit the apple and remain asleep awaiting a rescuer to rouse them from their slumber. While my eyes strain open, it seems theirs are stitched shut. 

I would look to the hills, but I cannot see them. I turn my nose to the wind, desperately searching for the sweet scent of the fig blossom, but the air remains stale and stagnant. Memories of sweet wine have turned bitter and acrid on my tongue. Despair rises. Tears fall. I am abandoned.

And then you came.

Even in the darkness I hear your voice. Even as the shadows cling, a distant stubborn flame burns warm within. Even as the ancient dragon rises up, I hear the shuddering sound of a skull cracking, cold scales falling, darkness fleeing, despair fading, and the soft click of sorrow closing the door.

The darkness will lift. The sun will rise. Flowers will unfold and fruit will soon run sweet on my lips. Old wish-dreams pass away, reborn better, found anew in the rebirth of hope. Tomorrow’s joy spills back into today bringing with it laughter.

I called to the LORD in my distress,
and he answered me.
I cried out for help from deep inside Sheol;
you heard my voice.
When you threw me into the depths,
into the heart of the seas,
and the current overcame me.
All your breakers and your billows swept over me.
And I said, “I have been banished
from your sight,
yet I will look once more
toward your holy temple.
The water engulfed me up to the neck;
the watery depths overcame me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.
I sank to the foundations of the mountains,
the earth’s gates shut behind me forever!
Then you raised my life from the Pit, LORD my God!
As my life was fading away,
I remembered the LORD,
and my prayer came to you,
to your holy temple.
Those who cherish worthless idols
abandon their faithful love,
but as for me, I will sacrifice to you
with a voice of thanksgiving.
I will fulfil what I have vowed.
Salvation belongs to the LORD.
— Jonah's Prayer from chapter 2 (CSB)
His Feet

His Feet

Your Tears Have Good Company

Your Tears Have Good Company