April 2, 2021
For Good Friday and Holy Week.
The dark.
I was afraid of the dark.
When I was little, the dark terrified me. My Mom was so kind and thoughtful (maybe for her sanity’s sake too) to put a nightlight right by my bed about at eye level for me to focus on until I fell asleep. Yet the nightlight was not bright enough to hold the darkness and fear at bay. I also begged her to keep the dining room light on all night at full power (it had a dimmer switch). Even with these two helps against the blackness, I still struggled in the fight against fear of the night.
The night Jesus died, earlier, it was He and his closest friends having supper together. One of these friends was about to betray Him. Jesus, knowing this, told him to do what he was going to do, and do it quickly. Judas got up, and left. One of the other closest friends, John, in his book, followed this moment with a four word sentence:
“And it was night.”
Later in the middle of that night, Jesus struggled in the garden. He struggled in prayer and with words and soaked in tears and sweat.
And it was still night.
When Jesus hung on the cross the next day after having willingly endured more pain–emotional, spiritual, and physical–than I can ever imagine, a strange phenomenon occurred. It was daytime, a time when there should be light, but instead, darkness came over the whole land. For three hours darkness reigned.
One of the most powerful church services of the year for me is called a service of shadows, held on the Thursday night of Holy Week. It prepares me for Easter Sunday which could not have happened if it wasn’t for the events of that late night and Good Friday. As different parts of the Bible are read describing what Jesus experienced, candles are slowly extinguished and lights are turned off. The final event occurs when the Christ Candle–the one lit on Christmas morning–is carried out of the sanctuary. People walk out in darkness and silence.
There is a song by Mumford and Sons called Hold Onto What You Believe. There is a line that I love, that I sing or say to myself at times of darkness. It is this:
“Hold on to what you believe in the light, when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight.”
Light is returning. Dawn will come. Sunday is coming. But for now, we wait, in the dark. The darkest hour is just before dawn.
Hold on.