You Can't Be Light Without Standing in the Darkness

What do you think it means to be a light? To be kind when someone is rude? To tip graciously? To thank your difficult boss for a lousy and thoroughly unwarranted performance review? It's not easy to be a light. In fact, to be a light --to really shine, you must be standing in darkness. Think about that. We light candles when the power goes out, right? When there is no other light to be had. I mean, we might light a fragrant candle during our quiet time or after we've made breakfast, but for a single candle to shed light, the place we're in has to be dark. The purpose of a lighthouse is to ensure ships will see the peril at hand and will turn from danger. To do so, however, the structure itself must stand in the blackness, amidst the rocks, and battered by storms.  

In Matthew 5, Jesus tells His disciples:

You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.

This world is the place we are to be a light. In our churches, sure. Among our families, absolutely. But in the places where it is dark we should shine more brightly. In Jeremiah 29, God through His prophet tells the people of Judah, God's people, who had been carried away to Babylon:

Build houses and dwell in them; plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, so that they may bear sons and daughters—that you may be increased there, and not diminished. And seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it; for in its peace you will have peace.

Despite living in an unfamiliar land, away from homes they built, farms they worked, and family they loved, despite living under the rule of strangers known for their cruelty, amidst heathens and their worship, despite being without the temple in which the presence of God dwelled, they were to make a life for themselves there. Not because all hope was lost, not because God wanted His people to assimilate to heathen ways, but because they were tasked with the privilege of being light to a darkened world. By flourishing in the land, they would be increased. Rather than slowly disappearing into the culture of Babylon, Babylon would begin to look more like God's land. And wherever God is, peace abounds. Rather than plotting overthrow or rebelling against authorities, God's people were to pray for the hearts of their new neighbors, pray for the yield of the land and the peace of this country. They were to pray for the leadership, that they would make wise decisions, decisions that would benefit the people. Rather than stirring things up and focusing on all that was wrong with their situation, they were to be light. Light in a dark place. 

Now, I can get onboard with that if I don't fully consider the darkness in which God had allowed them to be placed. I can imagine moving into a new neighborhood where everyone sort of looked like me or were on a level playing field financially. I can picture myself inviting friendly housewives over for coffee and introducing thirsty seekers to the Bible. But think of your youngest child or grandchild going to school in one of the roughest schools in the nation; think of your spouse heading to work in one of the toughest prisons; envision living in a town that supports everything you don't and hates the God you worship; your housewarming invitations litter the ground, and they've set your garage on fire. With your pets inside. Sound far-fetched? I hope it is. But this is cruelty. This is hatred. This is rebellion. This is deception. This is darkness. And we are called to be light IN it. Not to it from the next room. Not over it by forcing our views on others. IN it. Living with and loving on those in the places God has sent us. Standing among the storms with them and pointing them toward salvation in the Light, Jesus Christ.

With Him

Someone once told me the hieroglyphic for "impossible" was a person walking on water. I haven't been able to substantiate that, but anything to do with a water miracle and the ancient Egyptians makes sense. In Matthew 14:22-33, is the account of Jesus walking on the water. If what I was told about "impossible" is true, that would be sort of ironic: Jesus choosing to walk on the water to demonstrate nothing is impossible for Him or with Him. It is the "with Him" we're talking about today.  

Matthew's account begins with Jesus instructing His disciples to get in the boat and head out onto the sea. Didn't Jesus know the storm was coming? Didn't Jesus care He was sending them into a terrible situation? I believe He knew and He cared. When the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, or we get that call late at night --an accident or a child who has not returned home; when the foreclosure notice has been served, or the diagnosis is terminal, Jesus knows. He knows it long before any of us. And, as He was while His friends were being battered on a dark and furious sea, He is there.

Matthew says it was about 4AM when Jesus came to His disciples. He had been praying by Himself on the hillside. Surely, the Creator of the sea, the One the wind and waves obey, could have simply spoken a word from his location and put a stop to it all. No, He comes to them. He wants them to see Him. And they do. But they think He is a ghost. Wrongly, perversely, people have always believed in ghosts. Likely, one of the Adversary's means of getting humanity to think casually about demonic spirits and their activity. Some commentaries say the disciples may have believed, as many other seafarers over the ages, that the spirits of those claimed by the depths still haunted the waters and would come for them in a storm. Regardless, they were afraid.

Jesus immediately identifies Himself, and Peter responds, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” Peter, a seasoned fisherman, should have had a healthy respect for the sea, one that would have prevented him from thinking he could do what Jesus was doing. His knowledge, possibly, of those he knew who may have been lost at sea or barely survived a sudden storm, should have prevented him from thinking this was a novel or easy thing to do. Most likely, you and I wouldn't try walking on the water at a public pool, much less on a volatile sea in a violent storm. Yet Peter says, "Command me to come to You on the water." 

Often we read this and think, "What tremendous faith!" only for our hearts to sink two short verses later. Peter has turned away, taken his eyes of His God, lost his faith. But maybe it wasn't great faith at all. Maybe we're putting him on too high of a pedestal and, therefore, his fall seems so great. Maybe it was love that drove him to Jesus' side. Maybe Peter was saying, "Jesus, I want to be where You are." Or maybe it was fear. Perhaps Peter saw being by his Master's side, exposed to wind and standing on contrary, turbulent waves --with Him --as a safer place to be than in the boat without Him. Not where experience would have told him was "safe." Not with his other friends who were panicked as well were huddled. Not spanning the distance of a raging sea. 

But ignoring the impossible, disregarding the conventional, and with Him.

Midweek: Wanted: DEAD (2012)

Evangelism. Personally, it's one of the most difficult things Jesus requires us to do. I am not an off-the-cuff sort of conversationalist. I am fine before large groups, even without notes; but one-on-one, looking another person in the eye, and telling them about anything --even telling them about myself --makes me uncomfortable. Oddly enough, however, I have been teaching a chapter on evangelism in our weekly Bible study, and as I walked the other morning with a wonderful evangelist, the topic arose. Broken To Breathless is my attempt at evangelism. Born out of gratitude and formed in the medium most familiar to me --the written word --it has proven the best way I know to prepare an answer, familiarize myself with Scripture, and share the Gospel with those who find themselves on this common ground. May the following post from 2012, encourage you to share the Good News of Jesus wherever you go! 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Acts 20:24 ~

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me —the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."

In June 2009, I began Broken To Breathless.  I felt it was something God wanted me to do. I'm still not convinced He would have me abandon it, but several months ago the "inner voice" I've come to trust as the Holy Spirit within me said, "It's time to stop writing about this, and go out and live it." 

So, that's what I've been doing -- slowly stepping out of my comfort zone, reaching beyond my family and close friends, and walking without fear. My goal, Lord willing, is to share with you all my journey of obedience and my discovery of life. But just so you know, it begins with death.

The Lord blesses each of us; there is no doubt. As I walk through the woods on crisp fall mornings, or past dewy, manicured lawns in the spring, it occurs to me that all of this is a miracle. Genesis 3 tells us that because of mankind's sin, poverty, failure, death and decay were allowed to freely roam the earth; we chose that over relationship with a perfectly loving Father! Based on our choice, we should never even have the experience of love, or fragrant flowers, or vibrant colors, or the warmth of a child's hug. But God, in his infinite mercy and abundant grace has held the consequences of our choice in check and allowed us the pleasures of life amidst our preference for death! Somewhere along the line, may we become grateful for that; and if your experience is anything like mine, it begins like a spark inside your spirit and slowly grows to a raging fire -- one that cannot be contained, one that shines from the windows of your eyes and stokes the engine of your heart.

Three years ago, the blessings of family, and health, and happiness lit my spark -- the spark that led to Broken To Breathless. As I wrote, I searched the Scriptures for applicable verses, or to double-check my amateur theology; the pages of God's Word caught that spark and stoked a great fire. I loved studying the Bible! God's Word was with Scott and I as we returned to my home church, dealt with family situations, launched our own business in a terrible economy, tithed of our money and time to individuals and charities, and began experiencing a true evolution of faith. We share the Gospel of Jesus Christ whenever we can, but not just in words and not just within our own circle. The Gospel is living, and while it requires a certain amount of meditation and study -- hearts and minds, it requires arms and legs, hand and feet. The Gospel is hugging those to whom you never thought you'd speak. The Gospel is feeding those with whom you never thought you'd share your table. The Gospel is putting away all pretense, eliminating any preconceived notions, tearing down all walls, and dying to self -- becoming the arms and legs, hands and feet of Christ!

Always Welcome

We endured all of last summer with tarps and towels stuffed into the rafters of our brand-new canopy out back. My husband had done a beautiful job replacing our pop-up seasonal pavilion with a more permanent structure. He became busy with work, however, and was starting to see the effects of the heart issue he had unknowingly developed. (There's a blog lead-in if I ever heard one. More on that another day 😉) The inside work to our roof remained incomplete, and birds built their homes in the rafters. The mess they created on the deck below was unbelievable, and their kamikaze-style entrances under the eaves were startling. When the earliest round of tenants was through with their broods, my husband stuffed the rafters to prevent any further move-ins.

Just the other day, as the weather began to break, we watched a couple of mourning doves scope out the once again exposed rafters. Mama had already picked a spot, safe from the elements and out of reach of the local cats. (Sadly, our dog is terrified of our avian squatters and provides us with no defense whatsoever.) Papa was standing by awaiting her final nod before he headed off to find building materials. 

I love the sound of the doves. Their melancholy coos in the morning. Oh, how wonderful to give a home to these gentle creatures and watch them raise their little ones! But with birds --I know --comes a huge mess. We had to serve notice before they ever got started. But as my husband began making our canopy a little less enticing, the couple sat on a nearby shed waiting for him to let down his guard. Mind you, the shed is equidistant from our deck and the cedar tree in which the doves typically nest. Year after year, they've built their nest in its branches, finding it hospitable. Apparently, this year, they were looking for an upgrade. Their determination was wondrous to me. Birds so peaceful and mild, yet they were steadfast in waiting and watching for the opportunity to defy their eviction and rest where it was most suitable.

This morning I started in Psalm 91 (Alter):

He who dwells in the Most High's shelter,
in the shadow of Shaddai lies at night --
I will say of the LORD, 'My refuge and bastion,
my God in whom I trust.' 
For He will save you from the fowler's snare,  

Those who dwell in the Most High's shelter, in the shadow of Shaddai at night take their rest, they are not displaced. Not by the Owner, for He is willing and able to deal with the mess; He does not find it impractical or inconvenient. Not by the threat of enemies, for His dwelling is ethereal, high above claws and snares; He is well able to protect those in His custody. Not by life's storms or scorching sun, for we are well within His care, nestled so far under His eaves we feel only the refreshing mist of summer rains or the gentle warmth of its breezes; all time and space and weather --inclement or otherwise --is under His sovereign power and plan.

Are we, His gentle doves, fixed on Him? Determined to find shelter where it is most suitable? Are we stationed nearby, awaiting the opportunity to run to Him for rest and protection? Or are we flying around frantically plotting ways to resolve our relationship problems or searching for the resources we need to feel secure? 

Let us be like the birds, ready to roost in the shelter of the Most High, longing to lie in His shadow at night, safe from the storms and snares, and never unwelcome.