Listen

The Lord is my shepherd. I lack nothing. He lets me rest in grassy meadows; he leads me to restful waters; he keeps me alive. He guides me in proper paths for the sake of his good name.

Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger because you are with me. Your rod and your staff— they protect me.

You set a table for me right in front of my enemies. You bathe my head in oil;
my cup is so full it spills over! Yes, goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the Lord’s house as long as I live.

Psalm 23

Think

Years ago, I traveled along the southern U.S. border with a youth group in a van dubbed “Carmen the Heat Wagon.” We joked, waves of heat blasting as we opened the door: if we had cookie dough, we could bake cookies in there.

One scorching day, we pulled into an alley in Sasabe, Mexico. Buildings on either side cast a shadow, a valley of darkness. The relief from the heat was immediate — cool, bliss.

We’re taught to fear the dark, yet in darkness we find rest, recovery. In the blackest of nights, fireflies do their best dancing. In Learning to Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor says that “new life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb…”

Jesus goes into the darkness with us and before us. We can trust that we will find Christ in the scary darkness and in the life-giving darkness too. And in the darkest places God’s light will be most evident.

Shelli Latham

Pray

Light of the World, thank for you for going into dark places — scary places (like war, tombs, and loneliness) and restorative places (like a well-deserved rest, shade on a summer day, and night beneath a blanket of stars).

Watch over me when I am afraid.

Draw near as I grow, when the world is quiet and no one can see the changes you’re making.

Amen.

Go

May God grant you the perfect darkness
that you may find rest that soothes your creaking soul.

May God grant you the perfect light
that you may see clearly the truths of your life
and the path the Spirit lays before you.

May you cup that light in your very being
firmly enough that it warms your aching bones should you ever feel alone,
gently enough that it seeps between your fingers and out to a yearning world.