A series of biblical readings and prayers from David L. Miller, senior pastor of St. Timothy Lutheran Church, Naperville, IL. David is the former editor of The Lutheran magazine and Director of Spiritual Formation at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago.
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
November 4, 2015
The people who walked
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined.
Light of my life
Why is it, O Lord,
that I seek you more in the darkness than the light?
Days of light come,
sun shining, filling every corner in me until I burst with the joy of praise at
being alive, knowing you are the Being, the Light, the Life I know within as
well, no better, than I know myself.
And then days come when
I know nothing, feeling all I am and ever have been is lost, wondering if I was
ever worth mentioning. All I am and have done seems a wisp of smoke, thinnest of
clouds, soon scattered, mattering not to anyone, even myself.
Why does this darkness
weigh so heavily on my heart that light, joy and the Wonder of Love flee,
leaving me as lost and alone as ever?
And why, even now, do
these bleak words awaken tears of relief that lift edges of the dark curtain, allowing
hope’s sweet light to enter the corners of consciousness?
I will never
understand this heart of mine … or regret its ways. Never. For it always leads
back to you and ever it shall be.
It is the darkness
that brings me to my knees, aching for the Light of Love to open me to the soul
within that I might know my true nature.
The heart’s inner
darkness aches of emptiness, leaving only one place to go where again I might
know that you are ever there, the depth of this soul.
The darkness drives me
beyond my unfulfilled hopes, dreams and desires, grieving them all. And in my
tears to see, again, the Light who is always, and always there, who appears whenever
I spin my little words and release the contortions of my heart.
You are always there,
loving me, the Light in the self’s dark land.
So I wonder: Do you to
smile, Holy One, as I sink beneath black waves of despair? Do you see and say,
“Soon, he will come home and know?”
And yes, I do know,
thank you very much. I know the darkness is more friend than foe. It brings me
back to you.