The Darkness

"I've been in here before!" I exclaimed. I knew this place. But I couldn't see. The room was dark. And even though I knew I had been there before, there was something very unfamiliar with the room.

My goal was to just get through the room. But someone has monkeyed with the layout. I still can't see a thing! It is pitch black. It is can't even see my hand in front of my face black.

So there I stand in the doorway. Do I move forward into the darkness or do I turn around and leave the dark room? Going across the room brings with it real risks. I could do serious damage to myself if I move forward.

The thing is, even though I can't see anything, I like this place. It is comfortable. It has a sweet aroma about it. It feels right to be there. I WANT to be there. I don't want to leave.

What I think is, that if I stay here, even though I can't see anything, then I might not miss something. In fact, I think that this place is better than most places. It is kind of fun, come to think of it, to be challenged by the room.

But lingering causes my heart to race, because I really shouldn't be there. I don't want to get caught in the dark room. Maybe it would be better to move away from the doorway and more into the darkness, that way no one would be able to see me if they walked in here.

So I scoot a few steps away. Nothing happens. What was I afraid of?! In fact the flooring was smooth and very comfortable to my feet.

But now, a new thought occurs to me. What if I can't find my way back to the doorway? If I go too far, I am really committed to this path across the dark room. Do I really want to do this?

I really shouldn't be here.

I start to scoot back towards the doorway, but this time the floor isn't smooth and comfortable it is painful and it is stabbing me. It is much like when you run your hand against the grain on a piece of wood and then the wood pierces your hand.

And, something even worse than the pain in my feet, I am much farther from the doorway than I thought. I panic. I lurch my body forward toward the doorway, leaning with my arms out ahead of me, groping out in the darkness, hoping to touch something solid (and not painful).

Now all my energies are focused on getting back. I don't care about the pain now. I just want out of the dark room.

I finally reach the doorway. And I become more aware of just how bad I have hurt my feet. Why did I do this? Why did I ever convince myself that this was a good thing? It isn't. It's bad.

I place my hand on the knob and twist. But as I do I feel a sense of longing again for the darkness. Can you believe it? After all the pain I went through? I quickly let the longing go and open the door.

Light. It hurts. But it is a good hurt. I feel so much better. The ground here is hard and cold, but it doesn't hurt.

My eyes are adjusting. I can make out shapes now. There are others.

I turn around and look through the doorway into the darkness. I don't see anything but a pair of yellow eyes staring back at me.

I am so glad I'm here. But even as I am here, my heart grieves over leaving the darkness. I vow, no I pledge...no I hope to not return to the dark room again. But it is like I can feel the darkness calling me back...

1 John 1:5-7
This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness , we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. NIV