Double-Dark

It gets dark early this time of year. Walking home last night at around five o’clock, it felt like ten or eleven. I found myself looking up at a cloud-covered sky, as if it wasn’t dark enough already. The clouds obscured most of the stars that would normally be visible. You see, darkness is a gift. Without it, we would never be able to see outside our own atmosphere. We have a transparent one, which allows us to see farther than we can ever travel. Nebulae, dying stars and distant galaxies become visible only at night. During the day, the sun in it’s strength paints the sky blue, covering the outer blackness with it finger-like rays. But at night, those fingers are retracted into a fist and we are presented with a vision of the bigness of space. There is no known end to it – even though we know there must be, because God is outside of it. But it reminds us of Him, doesn’t it? Our tiny blue planet should not make us feel insignificant. Our smallness should endear us to the God who would visit us in the person of the Lord Jesus.

But it was cloudy last night. Doubly-dark. No stars. There was another kind of covering over the sky that wrapped the night. It brought the sky closer to me. It was cold, but close. You see, God is a redeemer. He takes things that normally would evoke fear or despair and turns them on their heads. Places that are devoid of hope become new springs of certainty after the Lord has been there. He went to the desert and the wild animals came to Him, turning a place of danger into a petting-zoo. He went into a judgmental synagogue and healed a man with a withered hand, turning a place of cynicism into a house of belief. And He went into a tomb, after turning a garbage heap into a ladder to heaven, and He transformed that dark hole in a hill into a place of rest and peace. For me, He has redeemed clouds too.

When Jesus was taken up into heaven, we read that the clouds received Him. The angels said that He would return in the same manner that He left. That means it will involve clouds. I can’t help but to see clouds as harbingers of hope. So even in the double-dark of a cloudy night, when the stars can’t see me, the faith that gives me eyes will enable me to see the Lord, just waiting for the last soul to receive Him as Saviour. He is the redeemer of hearts and clouds. David of old once said, “Even the dark is light to you.” I can see him even in the black. May I not make the mistake of missing Him when it’s light too.

There is a night coming for the world that will have no hope in it. Those who will not own Christ as the light who has come to pierce their darkness, will remain AS darkness. May the light that He has put into me shine through the cracks of my life and cause a hunger for that light in others. May my upturned gaze be a mirror to reflect Him down here.

I heard recently about a town in the hills of Italy that has no direct sunlight for several months during the year, due to being nestled at the foot of a steep mountain. They put up a huge mirror on a far slope and have brought light to that town. May we see bringing the light of Christ to the lives of all just as important a thing. And may clouds be a reminder to us as well.

BJ