How to See When the Darkness Skews Our View

Our plan to end the night in the camp lodge with some friendly competition and ice cream sundaes had been hijacked by a swirling summer storm. One minute we were playing a boisterous game of dodgeball, and the next minute we were sitting bewildered in the dark. 

Tree limbs that had been waving at the moon just moments before flailed and fell. Branches that had been silently stretching for Heaven cracked and snapped. Rain railed. Shingles sailed. And the waning light of dusk was instantly swallowed by a pitchy palette of clouds. But more disorienting than the black sky beyond the windows was the darkness that engulfed us in the space where we sat.

As the raging storm felled trees and snapped power lines, the overhead lights flickered and failed. Howls of wind and the din of drumming hail replaced the happy hollers of children at play.

At first an eerie silence settled over the campers as we waited for the storm to pass. But then the uneasy hush gave way to a melody of whimpers and whines.

“This room is so scary,” the little girl next to me murmured as she reached for my hand. 

This was the girl who, moments before the power went out, had been racing around the perimeter of this “scary” room with a wide smile and a happy hop.

This was the girl who, moments before the darkness engulfed us, had been singing an original medley of top-40 hits at the top of her lungs while simultaneously hurling foam balls at her dodging peers.

This was the girl who, moments before the lights flickered and failed, had been doing a show-stopping victory dance in anticipation of her team’s impending win.

This was a girl who’d never felt afraid in the camp lodge before.

Like many of our campers, she knew this space as a treasured place of rowdy games and late-night stories, scrumptious snacks and silly songs.

But what she knew of this warm and wonderful place was suddenly skewed by darkness’ awkward embrace.

I wrapped my fingers around hers and leaned in close so she could hear my voice.

“I’ve got an idea,” I proffered. “Let’s pretend we’re walking around this room in the light. We won’t move our feet, but we’ll work our memory.”

“Okay,” she replied with a tentative whisper.

I squeezed my camper’s hand, and we began our imaginary walk. “Let’s start by the double doors,” I  said.

I waved my arms in the air with a theatrical flourish and pretended we’d just arrived. “So, here we are, in the musty and marvelous camp lodge!” I announced in a voice that mimicked the cadence of a zealous tour guide.

The girl beside me giggled and scooted closer.

“Please note the dust bunnies dancing across the floor,” I said with mock-seriousness. “Aren’t they graceful? Don’t they make you want to twirl and spin?”

“And just look at that big blue lumpy couch!” my sweet camper exclaimed with expression that rivaled my own dramatics. “

“Ahh, yes,” I bantered, “the lumpy couch with the ugly plaid pillows is the perfect place for campers to sit when they get eliminated from an intense dodge ball game.”

“Or for counselors to pretend they are asleep so they don’t have to sweep the floor after we eat our bedtime snacks,” added the witty one beside me.

“Let’s make or way to the corner of the room,“ I suggested as we continued on our mental tour. “What’s hanging on the wall beside the window?”

“My favorite sign.”

“What does it say?” I asked. 

The girl beside me recited the words that were painted in curvy blue scrawl on that weathered wooden sign we saw every day.

“I went to camp expecting to make friends, but I ended up with family.” She leaned her head on my shoulder and exhaled a happy sigh, “I love that sign,” she confessed.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, we perused that familiar room in our memory.

We stopped by the scratched up table where the bedtime snacks are served, and we inspected the bumpy bean bag chairs piled in the corner by the emergency exit. We passed the coat rack and the shoe cubby, the bathroom and the rainbow-colored rug with tattered tassels.

And as we rounded the last corner of the room on our imaginary tour, the once-frightened girl beside me sat up a little straighter. Then she lifted her chin a little higher. “There’s nothing to be scared of here,” she said. “Except for losing the dodgeball game when the lights come back on.”

I laughed and gave her a gentle one-armed hug.

It’s been decades since I sat in that old camp lodge and invited a frightened little girl to peer with me beyond the darkness. But yesterday as I stared at my own circumstances through the deep darkness of disappointment, I thought about that long-ago night when an unexpected storm made it difficult to see things clearly.

And I realized that just like that little girl who found herself sitting in the dark in a place she loved, I can lose my way right in the midst of the Love I know so well.

Because darkness—even the figurative kind—doesn’t just distort my view; it often skews my trust.

Maybe you know what I’m talking about.

At one time or another, you’ve probably found yourself sitting in the darkness of uncertainty or the darkness of discouragement, the darkness of delay or the darkness of distress. And maybe, like me you’ve discovered that this kind of unexpected darkness not only contorts our optics; it curtails our confidence, too.

When the darkness of disappointment hovers, it can be difficult to trust God’s promises.

When the darkness of heartache encroaches, it can be challenging to trust God’s goodness.

When the darkness of loneliness lingers, it can be hard to trust God’s nearness.

But yesterday, as I sat in the darkness of my own ache, I realized that the little game I played with an anxious camper decades ago was far more than a playful exercise to keep her fears at bay. It is a gentle discipline that I’ve learned to practice, too.

When the eyes of our hearts can’t see past the blackout of discouragement or the clouds of confusion; we can pause to remember what we’ve learned in the light of God’s Word.

When our spiritual vision is dulled by shrouds of doubt or an eclipse of pain, we can walk through the scriptures and notice God’s faithfulness streaming through the windows of this epic tale; his mercy hanging on the walls of history like a beloved weathered sign, and his kindness offering a soft place to land like a beloved comfy couch.

And just like a little camper I once knew, we can can see more clearly in the darkness when we pause to remember what we’ve witnessed in the light.

So, yesterday, I reached for my Bible and took a walk around the truth I treasure. I peered at God’s promises and lingered in the tales of his faithfulness. I let His word stir my memory. I took time to recall the specific ways God has expressed his love for me; the countless moments he’s pulled through when I’ve fallen short.

And as I walked through scripture with a listening ear and a humble heart, my fear began to flee and my anxiety gave way to gratitude. Because, in the light of God’s Word, the darkness doesn’t feel so scary.

So, today, dear friends, let’s refuse to hover alone in darkness.

Instead, let’s open our Bibles and let the unchanging truth of God’s love buoy confidence in our hearts and bring clarity to our vision.

Happy April, friends! We hope you had a wonderful Easter. Praise God we serve a RISEN Savior! Thanks for spending time with us here today. If you’d like stay connected to this community of Jesus-chasers and hope-dwellers, feel free to subscribe. As a welcome gift, we’ll send you ten promises to remind you that God is with you. Also, if you haven’t read my devotion for Proverbs 31 today, you can find it here. I’m sharing some thoughts on how to bridge the gap between what we feel in our hearts and what we know of God’s.

If you have a minute before you go, we’d love to know what scripture is your go-to truth when you feel afraid or worried. Tell us about it in the comments.And don’t hesitate to let us know how we can pray for you today.

Oh yeah, one more thing! I’d love to bring a message of encouragement to your next women’s event. Check out my speaking topics here and don’t hesitate to email me if you’d like to partner in ministry in the year to come.

Finally, if you’re longing to see God more clearly and replace your muddled feelings with his unchanging faithfulness, grab a copy of this free resource and let the truth of scripture encourage you today.