For Darkness Shall Cover the Earth (a "Longest Night" meditation)

I shared this meditation at a "Longest Night" service on December 21, 2015 at First Christian Church in Helena, Montana.

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Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. (Isaiah 60:1-3)

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“For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples.” These words from the prophet Isaiah offer a powerful description of how it felt to me five and a half years ago, on Sunday morning, March 7, 2010, when my wife died and darkness descended on my soul. But Isaiah’s gift to us is that he didn’t stop with the darkness. He acknowledges the darkness and then he recognizes that beyond the darkness there is light. In reflecting on my experience later, I wrote these words –

Five months ago a hole opened up in my world and all the color drained out. On that morning in March when Veronica died I wasn’t entirely sure I would survive. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to. There are still moments when the sadness sneaks up on me and all I can do is gasp for air. But it happens far less often than it once did, and for much briefer periods of time. The color is slowly returning - muted, but most definitely there. I still miss her more than I will ever have adequate words to convey. The empty space that she once occupied is vast. And yet, my life is filled to overflowing with abundant grace. I have three amazing daughters who love me. I have more family and friends than I ever dreamed possible and they have been more supportive than I could have dared to ask for. I have a job that promises to be challenging and fulfilling and fun. I live in a world filled with sunsets and gardens, rivers and mountains and lakes, people and animals beyond description. I am living a life that she helped me discover and develop. Even in the midst of missing her I am grateful for the gift that is my life. Five months ago I could not have imagined ever laughing or even smiling again. Which just goes to prove how much I still don’t know. That day in March seems like another lifetime and it seems like only yesterday. It reshaped my very existence in far-reaching ways, but it did not end my life. I am the man who loves Veronica with the whole of my being, and I am the man whose heart was broken open by her death, but there is also more to me than simply that. I have lived to tell this tale because of the truly amazing support that I have received. It has been sweet and nourishing nectar for my soul. “Thank you” seems so inadequate in the face of such abundant grace, but since it is all I have to offer I do so with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. One step, one breath, one moment at a time - I move ever more fully into this new life which stretches out before me.

The darkness is real. At the time it can seem all-consuming. And there is more. There is also light. Not light which denies the darkness, but light that illuminates our living. “Arise, shine; for your light has come,” Isaiah proclaims. The gift of God’s light comes to us in so many ways – family and friends, memories, beauty, the kindness of a stranger. Sometimes we see it. And sometimes we don’t. Sometimes the darkness of our grief is simply too thick for us to recognize anything beyond the pain and the emptiness. But seen or unseen, recognized or unrecognized, the light of God is shining. May it bring healing and wholeness to our lives and to our world. Amen.