CONSIDER THE DARKNESS

Recently one of my children told me that the saying “it’s always darkest before dawn” was not true. Scientists report that the darkest part of any night is when moonlight cannot penetrate the clouds. This makes sense, of course, but I thought of the many times the old adage had felt true.

My son and I then talked about how difficult it is, given where we live, to experience a natural darkness that is absolute. In both of our lives, the only time we ever came close was a few years ago when we took a tour deep inside an enormous cave in South Dakota. Midway through the excursion our guide turned off the light so that we could experience time and space standing in utter blackness. Thinking back, even now, I remember how quickly I become disoriented. We were safe, and I knew that it was just a demonstration; nevertheless, a wave of panic had begun to rise up inside my chest seconds before the lights blinked on.

When I read today’s scripture, I think of the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea much the way I considered that cave before we entered it. I am a tourist who is just passing through on my way to a brighter place. For this reason, I don’t really think about the darkness today commemorates. The stripped altar and dimmed lights of Good Friday too rapidly give way to Easter lilies. For me, this holy day becomes a lull in the events of the week instead of the central point. A world absent of God’s Redeeming Love is horrifying.

Life serves up so many opportunities to experience heart-stopping darkness. As I write this, I think of the families in this very community who have lost loved ones to suicide bombers and sudden viruses and the bullets of a young man who had lost his mind. Despairing, all encompassing grief has a home here today. This year, I will do my best to mindfully honor that sad truth.

Perhaps by doing this, I will become more attuned to the abject miracle of tomorrow’s Dawn. And more importantly, to the miracle that is Christ-given to us all every day. No matter all evidence to the contrary, this world’s death and darkness has been defeated. Our hope is restored. We are redeemed.

— Marey Oakes

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist