The mornings are a little lighter now, but it seems I still rise while it’s dark.
Habit, I suppose. Or perhaps my joints are just growing older and less tolerant.
I don’t have to get up early any more, but sleep still leaves me at the usual time.
This morning I pulled back the warmth of downy covers and slipped out of bed into a darkness that filled the room but seemed also to envelop my soul. Even as the lights went out last night I sensed the darkness encroaching. Not the darkness of space that invites sleep, but that of spirit which steals rest clean away.
I swatted at it with a weak threat to doze off and thought to pretend it away. But by morning, it had its grip.
It held me with a firm hand.
::
I sometimes will speak of the trigger, this thing that sets off the dark. I do so carelessly, even flippantly.
The darkness itself, I prefer not to mention.
I’ve devised clever phrases to capture the essence of that doubt, the nagging kind, the kind that kicks up enough dust and grime to mask over and hide what would light up a room. You might hear me comment on God’s search for a loophole in the Covenant or wonder aloud if He ever suffers from buyer’s remorse.
Oh, I’m quick to disclaim such remarks. Of course they’re untrue. God says so in His Word.
And His Word holds up the ground beneath my feet.
So I must believe these things are not true.
But in the frailty of some moments, when I am burned by my own righteousness or even competence, I believe what cannot be true. And what’s most tragic? I would stake my life on it.
In those moments, the darkness insinuates itself.
Blindsides me, though I should always see it coming.
In my doubt, I set aside the Light. And every single time, I do it with eyes wide open.
I should see it coming. But I look the other way.
I plod forward (that’s what competent people do) though collapsing beneath the weight of the murk. Yes, darkness has weight, darkness has mass. The Egyptians, for three days, slogged through palpable darkness while the Hebrews, just beyond their reach in Goshen, enjoyed the weightlessness of tangible light.
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After the house emptied this morning, I toyed with a nap instead of a trip to the gym. Though darkness made me sleepy, the gym came out on top.
I opened a gift, a new Agnew from a sweet friend, loaded it onto my player and went out the door with a book tucked under my arm. The gift, this that was unexpected and undeserved, it was this same gift that gave rise to doubt last night. It was the spotlight that exposed my lack and thrust me into this downward spiral of a black hole. (Do you know, for some of us, gifts illuminate our shame? A pity, that.)
And yet there I went, gift plugged into my ears, to walk and to read. To walk out my competence and self-talk my way back into the light. Instead, I read words that slowed my steps. I read of desperation and poverty of spirit, and these being the trigger not of doubt, not of darkness, but of prayer. My lack, this would propel me into His presence more than any self-effort I could muscle up.
As these words sunk in, the third track came up on the Agnew.
I never saw it coming.
I need no other argument
I need no other plea
It is enough that Jesus died
And that He died for me
I stopped the reading. Nearly stopped the walking. I slid a finger between pages and dropped the book-holding hand to my side.
I just listened.
My faith has found a resting place
Not in device or creed
I trust the ever-living one
His wounds for me shall plead
I sat in that, walked in it a few laps. I have strong arguments to support my doubt. I make persuasive arguments that it is not enough that Jesus died.
Enough for you, not enough for me.
But I walked on this morning, in some of that poverty of spirit, and the arguments fell away as words that mirrored those of the Mark 9 dad came easily. I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!
I need no other argument. I need no other plea.
It is enough that Jesus died. And that He died for me.
For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power. (1 Corinthians 2:2-5)
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Related: 139
My Unbelief
Inconceivable!
9 responses so far ↓
Dad // 2009/11/05 at 8:12 PM |
Lyla:
When I saw the title, before I ever read a word, the words of that hymn, one of my all time favorites, popped into my head. I love the words and I love the melody.
Don’t let the darkness get you down. Discussions of darkness always remind me of the words of John 1:4-9. When I was in college, my professor of “Harmony of the Gospels” required the class to memorize the first 14 verses of John 1. And then, to compound the memorization, my first year Greek professor required the class to memorize the first 14 verses in Greek. The English has stayed with me to this day, 50 years later. The Greek has faded, except for John 1:1.
More important than my college memories is the concept that darkness doesn’t stand a chance when confronted with the Light.
Hymn writer Philip P Bliss says it so much better than I can;
The whole world was lost in the darkness of sin,
The Light of the world is Jesus.
Like sunshine at noon-day, His glory shone in.
The Light of the world is Jesus.
Chorus
Come to the Light, ’tis shining for thee.
Sweetly the Light has dawned upon me;
Once I was blind, but now I can see.
The Light of the world is Jesus.
No darkness have we who in Jesus abide,
The Light of the world is Jesus.
We walk in the Light when we follow our Guide,
The Light of the world is Jesus.
Chorus
No need of the sunlight in heaven, we’re told.
The Light of that world is Jesus.
The Lamb is the Light in the City of Gold.
The Light of the world is Jesus.
Chorus
“Jesus, the true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.” John 1:9.
Dad
David // 2009/11/06 at 11:44 AM |
What powerful words, “I sometimes will speak of the trigger, this thing that sets off the dark. I do so carelessly, even flippantly. The darkness itself, I prefer not to mention.”
I too have a darkness, a shadow that comes and visits me when I expect it least. I chase it away with flitting motions of my hands, but the shadows always come back.
Thank you for the great reminder that the darkness is really not a good arguement.
David
http://www.redletterbelievers.com
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/11/06 at 6:02 PM |
Dad, “darkness doesn’t stand a chance.” Love that. I was told again today that Dad should be a blogger. Your comments are appreciated by a lot of folks. (Including me.)
David, I do the hand-flitting thing too, to no avail. I have to use those hands to grab onto light. But I forget so easily…
laura // 2009/11/06 at 10:29 PM |
I love Todd Agnew and my 12 year old has just requested his new album. It does my heart good.
The darkness gets me lately. Having trouble adjusting to the winter coming. But…your story of the gym coming out on top inspires me. I’ll skip the nap next time.
Praying for you, Lyla.
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/11/07 at 9:55 PM |
Laura, Agnew rocks. One of my very favorites, and now your 12 year old is too. Thanks so much for your prayers.
Jennifer@More Than Adam's Rib // 2009/11/09 at 1:18 AM |
I’ve thought of you each day last week as I saw you post on Facebook. I know the difficulty of keeping your eyes focused on Christ, how easy it is to let the darkness take root. But like you, I have found a good dose of Christin worship music can help lift me even in the worst times, even if only for the duration of the CD.
I’ve prayed for you Lyla. May God give you direction. May God give you peace. May God give you understanding. That Jesus really is enough, even when we can’t see beyond our nose.
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/11/09 at 3:14 PM |
Jennifer, thank you. He is doing exactly that, giving direction, giving peace, giving understanding. And all the while, reminding me that He is enough. More than enough.
Deb // 2009/11/13 at 11:17 PM |
“Love Him more.
Trust Him more.
Obey Him more.
Those three things will always trump severance, retirement, and a paycheck.”
Your words.
His truth.
Helping me to live out the truth.
That He is enough.
Each day.
He’s more than enough.
You’ve raised the bar.
Sweet dreams.
Tim Witten // 2009/12/11 at 12:42 PM |
I wasn’t expecting to find this blog when I googled for ‘I need no other argument’. But God is good and in His goodness He shares with me from His abundance. Reading your blog this morning was a real blessing… Thank you.