Remember in the Dark

"Don't forget in the darkness what you learned in the light."

I first read that quote (originally by Joseph Bayly, it appears) in Circles of Seven by Bryan Davis. At least that's where I think I read it. It was so long ago that time and frequent recollection have blurred out the quote's origin. But the truth of it remains clear in my heart.


I've been grateful to live a pretty amazing twenty-two years so far. I can't say I've had a hard life; all I have to do is look around and see countless people with struggles more difficult than my own. But not one of us slips through this world unscathed. We all weather storms of varying magnitudes. I, too, have faced looming shadows and endless valleys.


And it is in the midst of the darkness that we forget.


It's easy to remember in the light. It's easy to recall the truth of who we are and the truth of the God we follow when the reminders are as warm and near as the sun shining on our faces. But when night falls, oh, how quickly we forget. We panic, groping blindly for a corner in which to hide. We cry, fear clawing up our backs. We stumble on, wandering and getting lost in the blackness. We forget so quickly that we are children of light.


But faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Did you get that? Faith is the substance and evidence of what you cannot see. It's the paradox of holding an intangible thing, of perceiving what is not immediately visible. It is real. It's not some wayward fancy. It's not a lure-less hook tossed into the sea in the mere hopes that it will catch a fish.

It is real.

When you go to bed at night and flick off the lights, does that mean your room ceases to exist because you can no longer see it? Of course not. Sight has nothing to do with the existence of a thing. It is there regardless of whether you see it or not. But it takes a steady belief to remember that when the lights go out and your eyes fail you.


Memory is a fickle thing. Is it just me, or do you ever look at something to memorize it--be it a review sheet at school or a book cover or a name or a number or a recipe--and forget it two minutes later? "What was that again?" And you go back to check. This kind of repetition is what we need in the moment we're plunged into shadows, when our minds go blank and the fear wells up. Go back and remember. What was it you learned in the light? What was it you saw and felt and knew? Isn't that true today, right now, even if you don't see it in front of you? Go back. Remember. Remember. Remember.


What was true in yesterday's sunrise is true in today's midnight. And it will still be true when the sun rises again.

I'm still standing here // No, I didn't disappear // Now the lights are on // See, I was never gone

(Never Gone by Colton Dixon)

When He feels far away, He is near, as close as He's ever been. When everything crumbles around you, there is a rock beneath your feet. When confusion clouds your mind, you will hear a voice behind you saying, "This is the way; walk in it."

"Your word is a lamp for my steps; it lights the path before me."

(Psalm 119:105)

The thing is, you can see that light if you choose to. It's on a different frequency than the physical light around you, and sometimes it takes a focused effort on your part to switch to that frequency, to see with eyes of faith. But it's there, and it's real. The unseen really is more real than what is seen.

So today, dear soul, wherever you are and however dark it may be, never ever ever EVER forget what you have learned in the light. Hold it close to your heart. That candle will erupt into a torch, and then a burning wildfire, before long.