"Hey! Who turned out the lights?" I was sitting at my camp table, writing in my journal, when everything was suddenly plunged into total darkness. I couldn't see my journal. I couldn’t even see the table.
"Didn’t anyone tell you?" questioned a voice from somewhere off in the darkness. "They shut off the generator at ten o'clock."
I was in a jungle camp in the mountains of Columbia, South America. Some Canadians had told me about the place when we met in a nearby village. From a tent somewhere in the darkness, I now heard their voices offering me good advice. "The sun will be up a little after six. The best thing to do is find your tent and just call it a day."
Groping my way through a clump of tress to where I thought my tent was, I began grumbling under my breath about the "lights out" policy. All I can remember is that darkness. I literally could not see my hands in from of my face, not the trees I kept running into.
I finally-literally-walked into my tent. Anxious to finish my writing, I groped through my pack for my flashlight. My whole world lit up! I could see again! Holding the flashlight in my teeth, I scribbled in my journal about the primitive conditions of the camp. Somewhere between my musing about Thomas Edison and the political unrest in South America, the flashlight batteries gave out. I considered borrowing some from the Canadians, but the sound of distant snoring and the thought of the gauntlet of trees outside convinced me to call it a night.
In the darkness I couldn't read the Bible, but I pondered the significance of Jesus' advice: "Walk while you have the light, lest the darkness overtake you. He who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become children of the light." [Jn.12:35-36]
It was my first night in camp, and I didn't sleep at all. All sorts of night life from the jungle was crawling, climbing, flying, or slithering around my tent. I never wanted to see daylight so badly. The night seemed interminable!
The long hours gave me a lot of time to think. Was my experience anything like the spiritual darkness which so many people in our world experience? Did they feel the pain and frustration of blindly plunging through the jungle, trying to find their way to shelter? Did they find temporary relief in a false light, only to see it fade back to darkness? Did they lie in a cold sweat of terror as they listened to things that go bump in the night?
I reflected on the totality of this sort of spiritual darkness. What a prison it is to those who live in it! I thought of people I knew who were in serious sin, or who were trying to live their lives without God. I thought of the insanity and hopelessness of our world. I shuddered at our frantic struggling to do our own thing, causing us to stumble all the more in the terrifying darkness of the night.
I thought of Jesus who said: &qout;I am the light of the world. No one who follows me will ever walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.&qout; [Jn.8:12]
I took comfort in knowing that Jesus is still among us, bringing light to whoever cries out to him in the darkness. How much safer and saner to live in the light, than to stumble in the darkness! I realized that Christians had a duty to bring Christ's light to the world. By word and witness, by works and wonders, we are to demonstrate to all that the light shines in the darkness, a darkness which has not overcome it. [Jn.1:5]
My reveries were interrupted by the sound of a bird singing-the messenger of dawn! I flew out of my sleeping bag and ran down the path to a clearing on the mountain. I stood in momentary silence and awe, watching the blazing ball of fire slowly appear in the east from behind the emerald mountains. I wiped away a tear of gratitude and hoarsely whispered: "The people in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who dwell in the region of shadow and death, light has dawned." [Is.9:1]
I turned and slowly, thankfully, walked back down the path which had been such a terror only hours before. I smiled to myself as I passed the Canadians' tent, which still reverberated with their undisturbed snoring. I knew that later that day I must tell them about Jesus, about his love and sacrifice. I would share with them my own story of the Lord bringing me from darkness into his light. I would hold up Jesus as the light of the world, and invite them into this marvelous new day. But that would all take place a little later. It had been a long night. I crawled back into my tent for a few hours sleep.
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