Can you fill a room with darkness?

Imagine yourself in a semi-dark room. How can you make it darker? Can you rent a darkness generator and pump more “dark” into the room?

You can’t, because darkness isn’t a real thing. You can’t “create” darkness—you can only exclude light. You make the room darker by shutting the doors and hanging heavy black curtains on the windows.

Now imagine yourself in the same large, absolutely dark room. What happens if you light a small candle? Can there be enough darkness to obscure the light?

Of course not. When light and darkness collide, the smallest bit of light always wins. Light ALWAYS displaces darkness.

Anger is like darkness

I think anger and bitterness work like darkness. They can seem overwhelming and stifling, filling a space until it seems there’s no room for anything else.

But if you inject even a small bit of love, it’s just like lighting a single candle. Love displaces hatred. When love and hate collide, love always wins.

It doesn’t feel like that when you’re in the middle of it. When you’re in that big, pitch-black room, the darkness feels real and ominous and overwhelming.

But it’s an illusion, a lie. That darkness that feels so stifling is really just a void. It retreats at the slightest hint of light.

That’s how it feels when you’re surrounded by anger and criticism and bitterness. They feel so real and powerful, but that feeling is the enemy’s lie. They’re a negative, a void, the absence of something real.

Hate blocks love just as those blackout curtains block light. So if you respond to hate with more hate, if anger sparks retribution, you’re just adding a heavier layer of curtains. Bitterness in response to criticism just blocks more light and creates the illusion of even more overwhelming darkness.

Add some light

Want to dispel anger? Don’t fight with it—that only serves to block the light. The best way—the only way—to defeat hate is to displace it with love.

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

Jesus dispelled darkness just by showing up. He shined the light into a dark world, and darkness retreated.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:1-5 

Simple or easy?

It’s really that simple: love displaces hatred as surely as light displaces dark. The way to remove the void is by filling it with something positive and real.

But don’t confuse “simple” with “easy.” Jesus never claimed that following Him was easy. As some once said, “He promised His followers a banquet—not a picnic.”

Confronting darkness with a single candle isn’t easy. Confronting a world of anger and criticism with one small bit of love and forgiveness isn’t easy.

Personally, I’d prefer to let someone else confront the darkness. I’m just not sure it’s optional.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16 

What are your thoughts about being the candle that displaces the darkness?

# # # # #

Writing this post reminded me of a song called Light One Candle. Here’s a video:

(If you can’t view the video, click here.)

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What happens when there’s no light?

Last evening I sat in the dark with nearly two thousand people. As we passed the flame from candle to candle, the room took on a warm glow. Then, in unison, we raised the candles and proclaimed:

YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD

That’s exactly what happened in that obscure stable more than two thousand years ago. A world of darkness suddenly experienced true light. Shepherds cowered before the dazzling glory of the angel. Magi journeyed to an unknown destination, guided only by their faith in a single light.

Darkness dispelled—that’s the Christmas Gospel, the good news behind the wrapping paper, football games, and family gatherings. Even in lives burdened by sadness, illness, financial struggles, and loss, the darkness can only be temporary.

A room, a life, a world, languished in darkness. And then, in an instant, that darkness retreated before the Light.

That Light brought hope, love, and the promise of a new beginning.

And a room, a world, and your life and mine, emerged from darkness and into the marvelous light of God’s grace.

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Have you ever looked out an airplane window at night?

I flew across most of the U.S. last night and received a glimpse of daily life from a different perspective.

At one point I noticed a small cluster of lights, obviously a small town isolated in a sea of blackness. I thought about the people in that town. Each light represented an individual life focused on its own pain, joy, struggle, and triumph. I imagined conversations and arguments, urgent tasks and quiet evenings.

I wondered if any of the lights represented a person in turmoil. Was someone contemplating a divorce, wondering how they’d pay the mortgage, or grieving a loss? Did a parent worry about a child’s illness or unfortunate choices?

I wondered whether someone in the cluster of flickering lights searched for God, longed for His presence in a season of despair. Did someone slump on weary knees whispering a desperate plea for relief or cry out in anger to a seemingly absent God?

As that small collection of lights receded, another appeared on the horizon. I felt the temptation to dismiss the petty squabbles and pains, to somehow call for a broader perspective from which our daily trials seem trivial and insignificant. I wanted to tell them to step back, see their small dots of concern in the context of a larger picture. I wished I could show them that everything’s okay, the world still moves along, and frankly that their isolated little light really isn’t such a big deal.

Then I wondered about God’s perspective. If those tiny individual lights seem trivial from a few thousand feet, how inconsequential must they appear to the One who holds all of it in the palm of His hand? While I see a few dozen miles from my window, He sees the entire universe and all of time at once. He watches from a truly eternal perspective I cannot even imagine.

In His eyes, my light is a blink in time. I’m here, and then I’m gone. Why would He care about my self-centered, momentary worries? The cluster of lights that’s so important to me is a single flash of absolutely no consequence.

I’m grateful that God doesn’t see it like that.

He doesn’t sit above and watch dismissively as we place our struggles at the center of the universe. He doesn’t hover above in His celestial private jet and scoff at our flickering spots of light. He doesn’t dismiss our individual trials as temporary and unimportant in the grand eternal plan of the kingdom.

Instead, He lands the plane. He climbs from the glory of heaven and walks with us. He hears every cry, feels every hurt, comforts every desperate soul. Even the dimmest, most isolated light matters to Him so much that He sacrificed His Son to redeem it.

God does ask us to take a bigger view and try to see from a broader perspective. Jesus continually instructed His followers to think in terms of His kingdom and live in a manner that transcends daily, worldly concerns. He knew that our human lives are a small blip on the eternal radar.

We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey. Steven Covey

He also knows that we can’t do it. We can’t see it from His point of view. Even when we try, our biases, limitations, experiences, and desires get in the way. He understands that our tiny cluster of lights is the center of our universe, even when we don’t want it to be.

So He lands the plane and walks beside us. He trades the spotlight of heaven for the dim light of a human life. And, even more, He does what we cannot. He lives as a man with eternal perspective, a man who truly understands that His true calling is service and obedience. He pays the price we can never pay.

We can never see our lights from His point of view, but we can know that He understands. We can know that He sees and cares intimately about every one of our lights. And we can know that His desire is for that light to shine brightly and eternally.

I’ve tried to hide my own light. I’ve wandered in darkness so intense that I was sure not even God could see me. I’ve been certain that my light didn’t matter to God or to anyone else.

Through all of that pain, He refused to give up on me. Jesus walked beside me in that darkness and carried me over some especially rough spots. He wept with me, hurt with me, and loved me when I wasn’t very lovable.

Your light matters in an intensely personal way to God.

My friend Dick Foth was once asked to explain the Christian message in simple terms. He said:

Jesus left His place, and came to our place. He took our place, so He could take us to His place.

Why Would He do that for you and me? Because our lights matter more to God than His own Son.

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 If you’re feeling far away from God, guess who moved?

Do you ever feel like God’s least present when you seem to need Him most?

Lost In Darkness

When I struggled with depression following my injury, God seemed to be a million miles away. I knew intellectually that He was right beside me, but it sure didn’t feel like that. I imagined myself wandering in darkness so impenetrable that not even God could find me.

As I began to get a handle on the depression, I seemed to discover edges to the darkness. Bits of light penetrated the oppressive blanket of despair. And I found that as I felt less lost, God’s presence suddenly felt more real.

While I was grateful for this feeling, I recall thinking that the process was backward. I really needed God when I stumbled in the shadows. Why did He feel closer as my need decreased?

Of course I know this was all in my mind, but that knowledge made it no less real or perplexing. It’s a question I hear frequently from others as well: I know I always need to feel God’s presence, but why does He seem farther away when I need Him most?

What Changed?

When I think back on my emergence from darkness, I notice something else. As I wandered less, I was more able to focus on something other than my pain and fear. I read the bible more frequently. My prayers involved more listening and fewer desperate pleas for relief.

I recognize now that God didn’t change or move. His Spirit always spoke to me, in darkness as well as light. The difference? I was listening.

In this passage from John, Jesus promises to send the Holy Spirit to His disciples.

“If you love me, you will obey what I command. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever—the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him.” [John 14:15-21]

As I read this promise, I understand that seeing Jesus depends on my obedience. But it’s not that He hides when I’m disobedient, because He promises not to leave us as orphans. He’s always here; if I desire to see Him, I need to look.

Jesus’ Promises

That sounds easier than it is. In fact, it’s counter-intuitive. He’s saying that when I’m most lost and frightened is precisely the moment I need to trust Him the most. It’s sort of like a road map—you don’t bother with it when you know where you are, but it’s indispensible when you’re in unfamiliar territory. But how often do we keep going, certain that we’ll find our own way, rather than stopping to consult the map?

I think the trick is to practice during the good times. Just like you learn to read a map before you’re lost, you need to practice listening to Jesus when things are going well. The more you learn, the more you trust, the better you get at hearing Him and sensing His presence.

I’m always amazed when I see someone in a desperate situation who seems almost serene in their trust of Jesus. It’s almost like they’re in denial, ignoring the reality of horrible circumstances. But usually those folks have practiced for just such a moment. They’ve spent a lifetime listening to Jesus, trusting Him, practicing His presence.

Help Me!

If you’re lost right now, God didn’t go anywhere. If you can’t see Jesus, it’s not because He’s hiding. Your own fear, guilt, or regret might be clouding your vision, but He’s right there. He’s still the light of the world, even if your eyes are closed right now. He’s never going to leave you.

Stop and listen, not because it’s easy but because He promised that if you do it His way you’ll find peace and rest. Trust Him, not because you feel like trusting Him but because He’s already been to the bottom. He knows the way out.

Trust Him more, and you see Him more. See Him more, and you trust Him more. It’s the infinite cycle of sacrificial love that will bring you into God’s presence. 

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. [Hebrews 13:8]

What’s your way of practicing Jesus’ presence?

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Never allow what you cannot do to interfere with what you can do. ~ John Wooden

Whenever I speak to a group about adversity and dreams, I try to communicate the principle of REALISTIC OPTIMISM. I use The 8000/2000 Principle as an illustration.

In a culture with so much opportunity, I wonder why we’re so obsessed with limitations. I suppose there are many reasons, but I think a big one is fear.

While doing some research for a presentation, I encountered this quote that offers an enlightening slant on the source of our fear.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. ~ Nelson Mandela

God didn’t design us to hide in the darkness of fear. How would the world change if each individual acknowledged how much our abilities exceed our limitations?

How can you take a small step today to shine rather than shrink?

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A friend reminded me yesterday of the subtle, subversive nature of sin. He pointed out how the world offers many shiny promises of hope and fulfillment. Money, possessions, and accomplishments dangle before us constantly, cleverly tempting us to swallow the lure of false security.

I thought about his observation in terms of The Story of the Jar. I won’t repeat the story, but please click the link if you’re not familiar with this image.

Jesus spoke directly to our tendency to fill our jar with shallow, meaningless rubble until there’s no space for the truth.

This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.” John 3:19-21

I so frequently fill my jar with the artifacts of darkness, as though a newer car or a bigger bank account will supplant gnawing emptiness. I seek acknowledgment and approval, hoping in desperation that a human spotlight can drive away fearsome shadows. I’m certain that enough success will somehow cast out the fear lurking in dark corners of my heart.

Cars and bank accounts enhance emptiness because there’s never enough. The spotlight only sharpens the shadows. Each accomplishment highlights lingering failure. Human attempts to fill the jar are simply false.

There’s only one source of light and truth. I can never fill the jar properly, but fortunately I don’t need to. Jesus fills my jar, and the entire world, with the true light. He stepped down into my darkness and offered a simpler way. My frantic efforts to shovel the world’s version of meaning into my jar aren’t required.

I want to live by His truth and come into His light.

Question: What’s one way you scramble to fill your jar that doesn’t work ?

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