Stumbling in the Darkness

As I was growing up, there were predictabilities that gave me comfort. One of them was my Dad’s nightly ritual. He was usually the last one to bed, and many times I could hear him as he finished his nightly duties. He would turn off the TV, climb the stairs to the kitchen and usually place a dish or glass in the sink. Then he would check to be sure the doors were locked and turn on the night light in the kitchen before going to his bedroom. There he would usually find my mother sound asleep, holding a book upright on her lap. We still tease her about doing that. He would gently pull the book from her hands and turn off her lamp before slipping into bed. Knowing he did those things every night gave me a great sense of security and peace.

Recently I was amused to find the same ritual has developed in our house. That night, I checked the doors, turned on the night light and opened the bedroom door to find my wife asleep holding a book. I couldn’t help but chuckle and even tear up a bit. “It’s my turn now,” I thought. Sometimes, Jina stays up longer than I do. About half of those times, I wake in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed empty. I’ll find her asleep in the recliner and then help her to bed.

I have pretty good night vision and a really good map of the house in my head. So, I usually walk around in the dark without any trouble. The other night, the ritual took an unusual turn. I had been repairing a chair and for some reason had left it lying on its side near the front door. As I went to lock up, I walked full stride into the chair. Instantly, pain screamed at me… a toe… a knee… the shin on the other leg…the same shin I had badly bruised several weeks before… they all cried out.

I don’t typically curse, even when something bad happens. Occasionally, if it’s bad enough, I’ll cartoon curse: “Snaggafragga…” If I’m with people, I’ll sometimes King James curse: “Verily, verily, behold that hurteth.” When it’s really bad, I might Christian curse: “Son of a Baptist.” But usually I just writhe around and moan. I don’t remember saying anything that night, perhaps because I didn’t want to wake Jina, but it was a moment worthy of a curse. It really hurt.

The next day was Sunday, and I had forgotten the chair incident. But as I led worship that day, I was awestruck by God once again. We opened with the song, “God of Wonders”, and as we sang the words, “When I stumble in the darkness, I will call your name by night…” I was reminded of the chair. My spiritual eyes went wide, and even as we continued to sing, the meaning began to sink in. “How can that be?” I wondered. “Is it possible for my first thought in that situation to be of my Lord?”

It’s so easy for my reaction to be anger or frustration and to curse the chair or even my own stupidity. But those lyrics are suggesting that my first thought can be to call out to my Lord. Wouldn’t that be something. What a great place to be. I want to be in that place where I am so close to my Savior that I see Him standing next to me all the time. There to catch me and comfort me. To cheer me up and cheer me on. Whatever comes my way, I want my heart to fly to my Him.

Psalm 34:17-18
"The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears, and delivers them from all their troubles. The LORD is near the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit."

Isaiah 40:28-31
"Do you not know? Have you not heard? Yahweh is the everlasting God, the Creator of the whole earth. He never grows faint or weary; there is no limit to His understanding. He gives strength to the weary and strengthens the powerless. Youths may faint and grow weary, and young men stumble and fall, but those who trust in the LORD will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint."

The Wait Called Beautiful...

We were standing in a subway train on our way to church when a man in a motorized wheelchair entered our car. It wasn’t crowded but all the seats were full. He made his way down the car randomly placing a laminated card and a wrapped toothbrush on people’s laps. After one circuit he went through again collecting the items. Jina said, “He’s asking for money. It happens a lot.” While most people ignored him, one lady kept the toothbrush and gave him some money.

I’ve seen preachers and salesmen on the subway, but this was my first beggar. I thought with pity about his life, entering car after car doing the same thing all day long. It reminded me of the cripple at the Temple Gate. Day after day, year after year, he took his place asking for contributions, until Peter and John came along. Peter said to him, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I have, I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, get up and walk!” Instantly, the man’s life changed. His dream was realized and he was a new man.

Then the Spirit reminded me that the man was there a long time. He was there when Jesus passed by… Think of it. The Power of God had already been available to this man, but he didn’t experience it. Why didn’t Jesus heal him? Some would say that the man didn’t have faith at that time. Perhaps. It’s true that all who come to Christ do so at different times and from different places, sometimes after many opportunities have passed by. But Jesus probably healed others who didn’t become His disciples. Why not this man? Wasn’t it cruel to leave him in this suffering state?

Jesus loved this man, but He restrained Himself, submitting to His Father’s will and time. He allowed the cripple to remain in his suffering for a future, greater purpose. I understand that wait. I’ve experienced what seemed like unending suffering. Heart-broken and agonizing, I prayed for healing that didn’t come. Instead, the Father said, “Wait.” He held my broken heart and loved me through the time. Then when the time was right, He healed me and said, “Now, look over there at what I’ve been working on.”

I shared all this with Jina and we both marveled at God’s plan.

Epilogue: At church, the time came for scripture reading. As instructed, we all turned to Acts 3, and Jina and I went wide-eyed as we read, “Now Peter and John were going up together to the temple complex at the hour of prayer at three in the afternoon. And a man who was lame from his mother's womb was carried there and placed every day at the temple gate called Beautiful….”

Got the Girl...

I went to a movie tonight. It was an action thriller, filled with the usual stuff that makes for a great break from the cares of the week...car chases, intrigue, a hero and his love interest. I've seen a bunch of these over the years, and I always walk out with just a little more attention to the shadows, alert for any sudden movement, my peripheral vision keenly aware of the people around me.

The hero is "everyman". He would prefer to be left alone... in peace, but he'll do what he has to in order to stop the bad guys. And the love interest... she is usually someone who gets swept up in the unexpected action. Together they dig deep within themselves for what's necessary to get the job done... walking off arm in arm as the credits roll. Silly, I know, but I've always loved it...except for the ending. Watching the hero get the girl has always left me a little empty. That's where the fantasy fails. No matter what sort of feelings the movie produces, walking out means you're returning to the real world.

It happened again tonight. My heart beat faster as the hero took care of business, and then it melted as he looked into the eyes of the girl. The credits began as always, but this time something was different. As I walked out glancing at the darkened corners, I felt something new... a hand curled around my arm and a cheek on my shoulder. I looked down to see beautiful smiling eyes, and that's when I knew... the real world is better than anything they can put on the screen.

No bad guys, no car chases, no intrigue... but I don't care... I got the girl...