Darkness and Light

The clocks went back this weekend.  For a few days there is a little more light in the mornings, but inevitably this means greater darkness in the evenings: winter’s cold tentacles tightening.  How does this idea grab you?  For my part, there are always memories of childhood, with the open coal fire in our quite large living room.  If I got too close it was uncomfortably warm; if I moved to the opposite side of the room, it felt cold and almost frightening, as if I were outside.

It’s strange how darkness is associated with fear in our minds.  We’re just passing Halloween, when fear is the ‘emotion of the season’, and some allow the world of darkness to draw near to our own.  Even in normal times, an idea or experience that is quite commonplace during the day, when we are confident and self-assured can take on a totally different dimension at three in the morning, when we can’t sleep and feel alone.   Doubts creep in – no, swarm forth – threatening complete annihilation: sheer panic can take over.

It’s good on these occasions to remember that, in His earthly life, Jesus experienced all aspects of our humanity.  On that dark night in Gethsemane, for instance, we probably see him at his lowest, in human terms.  He knew what he must do; perhaps he sought encouragement from his closest disciples, but they were tired and, perhaps on this occasion more noticeably than any other, were no use to Him.  So he turned to His Father.  Just as we might, he prayed that there might be another way (Matt. 26:38-40). 

Remember that it wasn't long before these dramatic events – with which we are all so familiar – that he was closely confronted with death at the home of Martha and Mary (John ch. 11).  He was deeply moved by the effect of Lazarus’s death on others, and we’re told that he was greatly distressed (11:33). 

The thought of his own death, even though he knew he would ‘come out the other side’, must have been just as distressing.  Certainly, no other moment, in human terms, could have been darker.  However dire our circumstances, however dark we may find our nights, however lonely, however desperate we may be, we can be sure that Jesus knows what it’s like, because He’s been there, and can uphold us through it all.  All we have to do is turn to Him.

Paul, too, spoke of dark times.  Writing when the early church was undergoing great persecution, he refers to them “experiencing trouble on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Cor. 4:8-9).  By way of encouragement, he says, “God, who said ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ is the one who shined in our hearts to give us the light of the glorious knowledge of God in the face of Christ.” (v.6).

Today’s news stories can be frightening; some can have a personal impact on our lives.  When we wake up in the night, alarmed by what we might face in the morning, it can be hard to feel any kind of reassurance.  But there is a light that shines in and through the lives of all who believe: the light that comes from God, who has power over death itself, is constantly present in our hearts.

It’s a light that needs only the simplest prayer to its Source to turn it on.

The Attraction of Silence

If you’re fortunate enough to live in the right place, it’s still not too late in the year to enjoy an early morning stroll in the woods.  You might wake up early, realise that you’ve beaten the alarm, and take advantage of the opportunity to fit something extra into your day.  The silence of the early morning, broken only by the birdsong and the occasional sound of some distant wildlife can be delightfully relaxing.

As I thought wistfully of silence the other day, the phrase ‘domes of silence’ came into my mind, and it was some while before I could recall where I’d heard it.  I rejected the domes of cathedrals and glass-covered hallways in stately homes, and at last my memory struggled back to schooldays, to hard wooden chairs, and to the little rubber studs fitted to the leg-ends.  It was these that were called ‘domes of silence’.  Sadly, but typical of schoolboys, we soon found that only one of the four had to go missing to render a chair far from silent!

The Bible has something to say about silence – or rather the lack of it.  In his letter James tells us to “listen much, speak little” and advises that we should “control a sharp tongue” (James 1:19,26, Living Bible.)  St Paul offers sound advice for the erudite: if we speak for the sake of it, with little thought or feeling for our hearers, he says, we’re wasting our time (I Cor. 13:1.)  Jesus, in His ministry, encouraged simplicity of speech, telling us, “Simply let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’, and your ‘no’ ‘no’” (Matthew 5:7). 

The season of political conferences is now over, but did you notice how many speakers (of whatever party affiliation) offered stock phrases and ‘filler’ clichés to please their eager hearers, without offering any grain of sound and innovative wisdom?  Another thing I find very frustrating in modern times is the incessant music that accompanies shopping.  It’s very difficult to find true silence anywhere.

In the church context, too, silence can be a rare commodity.  I used to know a minister, now ‘promoted to Glory’, who would introduce ‘a couple of minutes’ silent prayer’ by at least twice as much loud exhortation, during which he would indicate many good causes and lines of thought which we might explore.  You may know someone similar.

But let’s not go overboard about silence, to the extent that we are desperate to live in our own personal ‘dome of silence’, saying nothing at all.  If we are to be of use in building up the Kingdom of God, we must accept the responsibility to be Witnesses.  Being a witness means “not only in our lives but with our lips” (to twist the words of a once-popular prayer).  Is this call to speak out an unwelcome challenge?  If so, we should take heart.  The disciples were warned that they would be called to give an account of themselves.  They were also told that they would be given the words to say (Mark 13:9-11).

So, next time you wake early from the night’s slumbers, if you don’t feel like a woodland stroll, why not accompany your thanks for rest and a new day with a prayer to be used to bring a word of encouragement or enlightenment to someone you meet?

Getting the Cross Over

If you listen to music with more than a superficial interest, you’ll know that some singers’ careers can take a turn, whether temporary or permanent, that is referred to as ‘cross-over’, for example, when a folk singer records something in a classical genre.

There’s a similar cross-over from my work to my faith, and vice versa.  During the course of my work as a courier, there have been times when the opportunity arises for me to speak as a Christian.  I should explain that, for many years now, I have consistently worn a small wooden cross around my neck.  It is usually overlooked, perhaps thought of as a mere eccentricity, or unmentioned because of familiarity or for lack of something appropriate to say.  Occasionally, however, it attracts a passing comment like ‘that's a nice cross’, or a direct question, ‘are you a Christian, then?’  Sometimes it can introduce confusion, when someone assumes that I wear it because I'm a priest … which I’m not.  Explanations can vary from complex, to embarrassing, to dismissive, according to the personalities involved. 

A few weeks ago I made a collection from a building site and, as the foreman searched for the paperwork, he apologised for the delay, explaining that he’d forgotten his glasses that morning.  With scarcely a thought, I replied that I’d done the same thing in church the other day when I was due to read the lesson.  It was just an exchange of everyday experiences, but I wondered whether later he might have thought once more of ‘a delivery driver who read lessons in church.’

I recently heard in a sermon the report of a comment from the New Wine gathering that, when such a chance happens, we have on average only three seconds in which to get our word across.  It’s imperative, then, that we have our ‘script’ ready.  It needn’t be anything profound ... indeed, it needs not to be deep and complex, or the chance will have gone!  We should pray to spot opportunities like this when they arise.  Apart from the plan to have something pithy that’s ‘ever-ready’, it’s also important to remember Jesus’ words not to worry about what to say ... but to say what we are given in that moment, “for it is not you speaking but the Holy Spirit” (Mark 13:11). 

As I write about this, I’m reminded of an old priest who once told me about a builder who was doing some work in his cottage.  It seems that almost every sentence the man spoke involved the breaking of the third Commandment.  “I prayed about this, and was shown a way to address the matter,” the priest told me.  “I spotted the wedding ring on his finger, and I asked his wife’s name, and whether he loved her.  When he said she was Susan, and added that of course he loved her, I suggested that, should something go wrong with my work, I might regularly exclaim, ‘Oh Susan!’ and I asked how he would feel about this.  He thought a moment, and then said that it was daft, and if it went on he’d probably get very annoyed.  I then explained that I loved my Saviour, and that I found it offensive to hear His Name abused in this way.  I received an apology,” said the priest, “and his language moderated from that moment on!”

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." – Edmund Burke (1729-1797)