A guest post by Bethany Cooke
Ex
umbris ad lucem. Out
of the darkness and into the light.
When I was asked to contribute a
word for the Lenten season, I began to reflect - what could I bring? What word did stand out to me from these 40 days?
Did I have anything truly worth saying? I wasn’t sure; but, something, a small
sort of instinct said, “Wait and see. Just, look and listen…” I pondered, tried to quiet my mind, and
waited as one does for the first pale pink streaks of dawn on the horizon.
And, then, there it was: “Light.
Write about light.” I was somewhat surprised by this answer. I suppose I had
been expecting something much more predictable, such as ‘discipline’,
‘suffering’, ‘obedience’, ‘perseverance,’ or the like. But, no, there it was -
steady, quiet, strong, and certain - ‘Light’. I asked myself, “Why?” What a
curious word to choose…. But, the more I reflected on it, the more it made
perfect sense - for Lent, for my life, for all of us.
Because, Lent is cast in darkness.
We begin slowly; but, as we traverse further into the Lenten season, we walk
ever more closer to Christ’s body in the dark tomb, the disciples darkened in
their understanding of what was to come, and the darkness which descended over
all on Good Friday. We also, most vividly so in the Northern Hemispheres, practice our Lenten disciplines primarily
under the shortened, dark, days of Winter.
And, then, just there - at the edge
of dawn, “..Early in the morning..”- comes Christ. Out of the darkness of
suffering, sin, and death. Returned to life.
Yes. But, even more truly, He comes
and brings with Himself a flame, a torch, earned through obedience unto death
and darkness, which pierces through to the very depths of our hearts. It transforms our darkness into His light.
“In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The
light shines in the darkness but the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
Dear reader, I see those words, I
find courage and beauty there, and yet I too often still feel darkened in my
understanding. How to walk these Shadowlands? I have my small votive - enough
light for the step ahead. I peer through the questions and uncertainties, walk
forward, obey as asked, repeat the promises, guard my little flame from wind or
rain, and speak thanks. But, I walk wondering when the dawn will come, when the
veil will be lifted, the darkness vanish. I hear a faint echo with every step
that cries out, “When? For how long, Oh Lord, is this deep night?”
And, He replies:
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known
Along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
And make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them.’
-
Isaiah 42:15-16
(emphasis
mine)
And, the psalmist further declares to my repeated question:
“.. Where morning
dawns and evening fades, You call forth songs of joy.” - Ps 65:8.
He never
tells us when, dear heart. He simply says He will. Do you believe this, friend? Do I?
Can we say with Samwise “... that in the end the Shadow was
only a small and passing thing. There was light and high beauty forever beyond
its reach.”?
Will we,
will I, act in the faith of His ‘will’ while laying aside our ‘when’?
Will we choose to step forward into the unseen, not
demanding times or places; because, we trust the One with whom we walk?
There is the picture for our Lenten
Season. That is the reason for this
yearly ritual. We paint in miniature that which we must do throughout our
lives. We carry our small flame in the darkness, stepping ever forward, knowing
that “The true light which gives light to all men” is “coming into the the
world”. He will not be overcome; but,
as with the dawn on Easter morn, shall “call forth songs of joy.”
‘Ex
Umbris ad Lucem’
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