The Dimmest of Light, is Still Light

So there I was in the dark, laid out on my stomach suited up for a nuclear fall out, boots, gloves, hoody cinched down with goggles and dust mask ready to ward off any and everything that lives in the crawl space of our family home. Let me just say, I hate going into our crawl space or any crawl space come to think of it. But I had a job to do, our house was scheduled for an inspection for some potential buyers and the vapor layer that covers the dirt under our house needed to be replaced.  So as I said before there I was under my house kitted out and swimming in hundreds of feet of black plastic tarping, trying my best to spread it out flat over the rocks and dirt. As I struggled, I almost felt like I was five years old again, trying my best to spread a seemingly massive bed sheet out on my bed frustrated to discover how easily it loses position has you pull it from side to the other trying to reach the far corners in each direction.

At one point the crawl space under the house was so narrow that I began to panic as I felt the hard stone pressing on my chest as my back rubbed against the under belly of the floor boards. I was grateful I had a work light with me to help me keep my bearings as I took a minute and prayed “God help me get this done” and slid backwards to continue my work. I rushed to get done so I could resurface and escape the crushing feeling of Closter phobia and the heat of my mask and hoody.

A drop of dust soaked sweat rolled down my brow and into my eye, the burning was piercing, but I just wanted to finish so I worked faster spreading my whole body over the plastic to expand the folds to their limit. I spread my arms and kicked my legs into the sea of plastic and saw a flash of light as my boot broke the bulb of my work light.   Darkness…

Absolute darkness, I was left with only a flickering headlamp powered by a stolen remote battery. I could barely see anything, I couldn’t make out the far edges of the foundation let alone much further than a few feet in front of me. The air was filled with dust particles that dulled the vision. The once bright light had gone out, but I was not in complete darkness. 

No matter how dim my headlamp was, it gave light. And that dim light was enough.

My lesson this week:

Even the dimmest of light, is still light.

“Behold, these are but the outskirts of His ways,

    and how small a whisper do we hear of Him…”

                         -Job 26:14a

Sometimes all we get is a whisper of what God is doing. Sometimes the lights go out and all we have is the flicker of a promise “fear not, for I am with you” or a past experience of His presence but the feelings are only a memory, a whisper…

These whispers can feel so inadequate at times to fill us up and give us clarity, but they are not insignificant. Even a whisper from Heaven is Heaven speaking.

I am meditating on the truth that even the dimmest of light is light. And the faintest whisper still words.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

-John 1:5

By all accounts the life of Christ that dawned on the morning of dark humanity was dim and flickering in comparison to what was expected, yet the darkness did not overcome it.

The dimmest of light, is still light.

            The faintest whisper is still words.

What is God whispering to you this week, this moment?

The Outskirts

This evening I stood next to my son as he worked away at his Sunday night homework assignment. He scribbled away, drawing and labeling diagrams on a massive poster board spread across our desk by the door. His quiet study was interrupted when we heard a roar coming from outside.

As we pulled the door open to investigate we discovered a massive wind ripping through the branches of the monstrous fir trees that stand tall around our house. We saw hay tarps flapping and snapping in the wind and metal doors swaying and clanging at each gust.

What a powerful wind

All at once, the white noise of the wind was silenced by the rush of thumping raindrops, and then by hail pelting the metal roof of the hay barn and angrily slapping every surface.

What a powerful hail

 

A mist of damp filled the air as water splashed up from the hail and rain pounding the gathered pools of rain.  All at once in the darkness the mist lit up with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder.

What a powerful storm

I stood on the porch in awe, feeling the mist and damp whipped by the wind all around me, amidst the flashes of light and the thumps of power, marveling…

What a powerful God

Honestly, I have grown slightly disillusioned to the process of waiting on God to direct us to our new home and ministry. I have been reading in Job and came across a passage in chapter 26 where Job is reflecting similarly on the power of God over death, space, the earth, its clouds, mountains and seas. Then he says something that shook me when I read it…

“Behold, these are but the outskirts of His ways,

                        and how small a whisper do we hear of Him…”

                                                -Job 26:14a

Amazing to think that the things that arrest our attention, capture our intrigue, mystify our senses and make us say “Wow, what an amazing God” these are only the “outskirts of His ways”, only a taste of God’s power, wisdom and works.

God’s creative genius on display all around us is only the boarder of greater ways, it seems as though creation is pictured as the very exterior edge of all that God has done and is doing. Job’s statement comes from the heart of a man who longed to understand more of what God was doing behind the scenes of life.

Sometimes circumstances can confuse and disorientate us. When life turns upside down and hope begins to fade and your resolve drifts toward indifference, remember… The mighty work that God has done in creation is but a hint of God’s creative glory and wisdom in action toward us.

Today my lesson is this:

When I can’t see what God is doing, look at what I can see. And understand that “these things are but the outskirts of His ways.”