Tag Archives: Darkness

Pastoral thoughts

Do the Time: It’s Worth the Climb

The dark valley. (1)

We’ve all been there – and most likely will be again. Perhaps it’s your current dwelling place. We may be in the valley because of the circumstances of life. Things happen, difficult things, that we cannot control. Dark times are a fact of life. Or we may be in the valley because our attitude, our mindset takes and holds us there.

Whichever the case, it’s never fun. And climbing out is hard constant work. Sometimes we feel it’s just simpler to stay there and grin and bear it, thinking “This, too, shall pass.” Yet seldom, if ever, does someone swoop down and pull us out.

But we need not give in to that temptation of simple bearing it. In fact, there is a way of thinking and living that not only lifts us out of the valley but can lessen the number of times we’re in the valley. The prophet Ezekiel paints a stirring picture.

“The passageway of the side chambers widened from story to story; for the structure was supplied with a stairway all around the temple. For this reason the structure became wider from story to story. One ascended from the bottom story to the uppermost story by way of the middle one.” (Ezekiel 41:7 New Revised Standard Version)

There is a way to the uppermost story, to the top floor, to the grand, broader and brighter view. There is an uppermost level that changes everything. Just climb the stairs. Do the hard, constant work of climbing the stairs one at a time. (2)

In other words, do the time – it’s worth the climb.

Charles Spurgeon preached it powerfully. (3)

“We ought not to rest content in the mists of the valley when the summit of Tabor awaits us. How pure are the dews of the hills, how fresh is the mountain air, how rich the fare of the dwellers aloft, whose windows look into the New Jerusalem! Many saints are content to live like men in coal mines, who see not the sun. Tears mar their faces when they might anoint them with celestial oil. Satisfied I am that many a believer pines in a dungeon when he might walk on the palace roof, and view the goodly land and Lebanon…Aspire to a higher, a nobler, a fuller life. Upward to heaven! Nearer to God!”

We climb upward through the constant hard work of filling our minds and hearts with thoughts of the higher broader view. It’s daily, sometimes hourly work. It’s focusing all our sight upward. (4)

You’d think that after 45 years of ministry I’d find it easy. Not! I find it harder than ever. At least when I was preaching every week I studied and soaked in the Word. But without that weekly deadline and pressure, it’s way too easy to become lazy. And I begin to lose that higher broader view. And that impacts everything I do.

So I confess – I am working at it. I know what’s needed. More reading and studying the Word. More times of prayer. More Christian media and music. In other words more time set aside and focused. Easy, right? But that means less TV, less IPad word games, less sports talk radio! Ouch – it hurts to think about it.  But I know that if I do the time – it will be worth the climb.

So two points for your thoughts. One – There will be times beyond our control when we’ll be in the valley. Whether or not we stay there will be up to us. Two – Whether or not we slowly lose the higher broader view and slip into the valley at other times is up to us. These words express it more eloquently and pointed than I can.

Not many of us are living at our best. We linger in the lowlands because we are afraid to climb the mountains. The steepness and ruggedness dismay us, and so we stay in the misty valleys and do not learn the mystery of the hills. We do not know what we lose in our self-indulgence, what glory awaits us if only we had courage for the mountain climb, what blessing we should find if only we would move to the uplands of God. (5)

Will you do the time? It’s worth the climb! I’m certain that’s why Jesus spent so much time apart to be in contact with His (and our) Father. If He needed to, surely we do too.

May the words of Jason Oatman, Jr. be your prayer and song (6):

“I want to scale the utmost height,
And catch a gleam of glory bright;
But still I’ll pray, till heaven I’ve found,
Lord, lead me on to higher ground!”

(7)

(1) Valley Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash
(2) Stairs Photo by Maxime Lebrun on Unsplash
(3) As quoted in Streams in the Desert, January 2, Mrs. Charles E. Cowman, © 1965 Cowman Publications, Inc.
(4) Eyes Upward Photo from Lightstock
(5) As quoted in Streams in the Desert, January 2, Mrs. Charles E. Cowman, © 1965 Cowman Publications, Inc.
(6) Higher Ground
(7) Higher Ground-Photo by Eric Froehling on Unsplash

Pastoral thoughts

When Darkness Strikes

It had been quite a project. Our team had been recruited by the Reformed Church in America to engage in a three year process of helping the denomination wrestle with what it means to Reformed and Missional. Members of the team came from every Regional Synod in the RCA, so there were people from the East Coast, the West Coast, and from the Midwest. We enjoyed being together, working together, worshiping together, and praying together. It was a privilege to be a part of it.

The opportunity to relax and celebrate had finally come. So we gathered in a restaurant in Grand Rapids, Michigan to eat, relax, and laugh a little. We had just been seated and handed menus when the lights went out. And this was not a restaurant with a lot of windows – in fact, it was one of those sporty, dimly lit places to begin with. And now, no lights at all! While we could see each other, we could not see the menus. Since the manager wasn’t initially sure about the cause or extent of the outage, he encouraged us to sit tight, order, and when power came back on they’d be ready to serve us. The plan sounded good except we had no lights by which to read the menus.

Then it hit me – I had a little flashlight on my key chain. (Before you ask – this was pretty much pre-cell phone flashlight days.) By it we could, one or two people at a time, see the menu. I had the light all the time – I just didn’t think to turn it on! I realized then that I need to plug into my memory bank, “When the darkness strikes remember to turn on the light.”

To make a longer story shorter, we never did make our orders and eventually received word that the outage affected a fairly wide area of 28th street. In other words, it could be a while. So we decided to head for another location. But, of course, it was dark and making our way from the table to the exit was somewhat of a risk. So without hesitation I took the lead with ‘this little light of mine’ – this time I was going to let it shine! We all made it out safely. “When the darkness strikes remember to turn on the light.”

We have all experienced times of darkness. I wonder how often we’ve brooded, worried, and perhaps even panicked in our lack of sight when all along all we needed to do was turn on the light. Didn’t Jesus say that he was the light of the world? Didn’t Jesus say you and I are the light of the world? Didn’t Jesus say we are not to hide the light under a bushel? “When the darkness strikes remember to turn on the light.”

In the midst of the darkness, a word from Jesus, a reminder of His presence, can brighten the whole scene – at least enough to make our way forward to the exit. The darkness will not last forever: “the light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not (and will not) overcome it.” (John 1:5) So in the meantime, “When the darkness strikes remember to turn on the light.” And let it shine!

Pastoral thoughts

Sailing through life

My wife and I recently went on a cruise. We not only had a wonderful time but I kept gleaning spiritual lessons about sailing through life. For the next few weeks I’ll be sharing them with you.

When our first night at sea arrived, I was struck by the darkness. As I stood on the deck all I could see, as far as I could see was a deep and total blackness that engulfed us. As I pondered this total blackness God reminded me that while I knew where we were headed, I had no idea where we were or how to get where we were going. I needed someone to lead me there – someone who’s been there before, who knows the way and knows how to get there safely. And I needed to trust them.

I then thought of some of the dark periods of my life and recalled how there was always One who knew where I was and how to get me to where I was going. He always led me there – because He’d been there before and knew the way. Each time He reminded me I needed to trust Him during the dark times of life.

The next day, as I was still pondering this renewed insight I stood on the deck and all I could see, as far as I could see, was the vastness of the ocean. No land, no other vessels – just blue, wavy water. Once again I realized that while I knew where we were headed I had no idea where we were or how to get where we were going. God was now reminding me that even in the light of day, even when I know where we’re going, I need someone to lead me there. And I need to trust them.

Then I thought of some of wonderful, beautiful times of my life – times when things went well and darkness was far removed. And I remembered that even then, in the bright light of day it was Someone Else who was piloting the ship of my life, Someone Else who was leading the way – even if I had temporarily forgotten the fact.

Then it hit me – I always know where I am going; I’m headed into the presence of my heavenly Father. But as I sail through life I’ve been reminded that it’s far easier to trust in the dark than it is in the light; it’s far easier to trust when I can’t see what lies ahead than when I can see what lies ahead. The fact is I need to trust the pilot all the time. He, after all, has been where I’m going and knows the way. I think that’s part of what Jesus meant when He said “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6) Always – whether standing in the light or engulfed by darkness, Jesus is the way. We need to trust Him.

The following hymn says it poignantly.

Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me
(The Sailor’s Hymn)
Edward Hopper

Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life’s tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal.
Chart and compass come from Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

While th’apostles’ fragile bark
Struggled with the billows dark,
On the stormy Galilee,
Thou didst walk upon the sea;
And when they beheld Thy form,
Safe they glided through the storm.

Though the sea be smooth and bright,
Sparkling with the stars of night,
And my ship’s path be ablaze
With the light of halcyon days,
Still I know my need of Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the darkling heavens frown,
And the wrathful winds come down,
And the fierce waves, tossed on high,
Lash themselves against the sky,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me,
Over life’s tempestuous sea.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will,
When Thou sayest to them, Be still!
Wondrous sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
’Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
Fear not, I will pilot thee.