I am in mourning. And, before you assume that my following comment is sarcastic, please know I am serious. Daylight Saving Time is almost over. The days feel shorter, the sun rises earlier, it’s often colder than I prefer, and by February, the darkness is pressing in on my soul. As a night owl and a child of the summer, the end of Daylight Saving Time is the saddest day of the year for me. I have heard all the arguments for why we should go back to standard time, “the way God intended it” or whoever decided when mornings would start way back when. All I can say is how sad I am for those poor people of the past who thought the day was over at 6:00 in the evening. I hate the idea, and if God had wanted it that way forever, he wouldn’t have created the genius who paved the path to change time so summer days could be never ending.

I know its a silly thing to hate, but it’s all about the darkness for me. I love the light. On the days the sun is not shining, instant palpable sadness. And if I wake up and it’s raining, Lord Jesus just return now, because I cannot face a day with only the bleak darkness of a storm to contend with. If you think I am being over dramatic, please feel free to visit my Facebook post from March 4, 2015, where I put a 300-watt light bulb in a lamp in my living room, wore my sunglasses, and prayed for the sun’s instant and constant return. This is real to me.

Wanna know what I hate about the darkness? I can’t see, I feel out of control, I lose sight of the future, things aren’t as they appear, it lacks life. There is a reason things like haunted houses take place at night, and scary movies just aren’t as effective at 10 a.m. Walking down a sketchy alley is always questionable, but at night, that’s the stuff CSI is made of. There is something about the dark that is sinister and oppressive and, overall, just the worst. I mean, it’s when we sleep, after all, because even our bodies are smart enough to just lie in wait for the rising sun!

I imagine that the disciples were feeling some of these same things about darkness as they sat on their boat in the middle of the storm, likely praying that they could just get to the other side. It doesn’t take a Bible scholar to know that this was a literal dark moment in their story. Storms = darkness. I often wonder if the storm was bad enough that they feared for their life, did they question the motives of Jesus to send them this way without him? Did they cover their heads and just surrender to the fact both their livelihood and survival were out of their control?

Isn’t it funny how figurative storms in our lives feel so similar to actual ones? They are dark points in our life where we find ourselves trapped in the darkness, questioning both the future and God. Thankfully, it is in these storms where we should question God! Because knowing him gives us power in our darkness.

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.”
— Psalm 139:11–12

Do you see that? Even the darkness is not dark to God. The night shines to him like the glory of the morning. In the dark, his vision is not hindered, his plan does not waver, his protection stands strong. No wonder Jesus didn’t need a lantern as he made his way across the raging waters! The darkness has no power and no control over who God is. And who God is is who he has always been. When Abraham did not know where God was sending him, God could see. When Israel felt the darkness of captivity, God’s vision was clear. When the disciples cowered on the boat, Jesus walked confidently to them through the storm. This God is our God, and his light is for us and with us on our darkest of dark days. So when I cannot see, I simply look to him, grab his hand, and let him lead me through, because his vision is better than mine on my best sunny day. And in the darkness, forget about it, I will let him deal with that, as I faithfully follow him into the light.

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