The presence of darkness can quickly make us question the things that feel secure in the light.
When it’s time for bed, I get off the couch, turn off the TV and living room light, then head upstairs. Tennessee and Lulabelle sleep in my bedroom as well, so they typically bound up the steps in that direction right alongside me. Then one night, about 2 years ago, I noticed that Lulabelle wouldn’t come up the stairs.
Now, she can be a little diva-like (no idea where she gets that from), so I chose not to give life to this probable tantrum. I went up the stairs and into my room and called for her. She didn’t come. I called again. No movement, but I did hear two little Lula whimpers, which is not her usual “pay attention to me” style, and which prompted Tennessee to go to the top of the stairs to check on her. I followed him into the hall and turned on the bathroom light. As soon as the light flickered on to illuminate the hallway, here came Lulabelle bounding confidently up the stairs.
Despite the fact that this was the same bedtime routine and the same path-of-no-resistance that she had taken night after night for her entire life, she all of the sudden began doubting her ability to make her way through the dark and to the bedroom. She knew this path like the back of her paw, but the darkness caused her to question where she was going.
The presence of darkness can quickly make us question the things that feel secure in the light.
In the absence of light, our imaginations work overtime.
As much as I’d like to say this situation is unique to my little pup, I have to be honest here. When it comes to navigating our way through the dark, I probably have a lot more in common with Lulabelle than I realize. And if I may be so bold, I think you’re probably a lot like her too.
(Please don’t be insulted that I just compared you to my dog… if you knew how I love these little creatures, you’d feel the compliment in that comparison.)
Anyway, I’ve pondered this idea lately – the fact that we can know the truth backwards and forwards, yet still wind up doubting it, ultimately frozen in fear once the dark sets in. Why do you think that is? Is this even a concept you relate to, or are me and Lu alone in this?
We’ve all been afraid of the dark since we were kids. Imagining monsters under the bed. Hearing whispers whirl past our ears, unaware that it was just the ceiling fan keeping us cool. Convinced that if we let ourselves sleep, we’ll become victims to these nonexistent villains. And the darker it grew, the more we began to doubt that we were safe and sound. In the absence of light, our imaginations work overtime, conjuring up images and scenarios more akin to fear-inducing nightmares than faith fueling dreams.
Even though my eyes don’t perceive it, nothing about my circumstance has changed when the darkness comes.
Doubting in the darkness seems to be a since-birth problem, so perhaps the best place to go to find a solution is back to the very beginning. When we were scared as children, who did we run to for comfort? Most often, I cried out until my parents came to rescue me.
What if we employed the same strategy now? What if, when darkness and doubt set in, we chose to run to our heavenly Father? The fact is, we do have a choice. Believe what we see, or believe the truth. Those two aren’t always the same.
When the lights go out, we can’t see where we’re going anymore. But the furniture doesn’t just get up and change positions because you turned off the lamp. The stairs I have to navigate in order to get to my bedroom every night don’t become a water slide when the sun goes down (Note to self: figure out how to turn stairs into water slides because that sounds like a worthwhile renovation). Even though my eyes don’t perceive it, nothing about my circumstance has changed when the darkness comes. Therefore, nothing about my faith should change.
Now, that sounds great in theory, right? Run to my heavenly Father when it gets dark and scary. Trust and believe in what I know is real, even when I can’t see it in the dark. Is it really that simple? Yes, but… simple doesn’t mean easy.
There are situations that are especially dark. And there are seasons where that darkness lasts through several dawns before it lifts. Doubt is real. And experiencing seasons of doubt doesn’t make us any less faithful. In fact, doubt is the perfect environment for faith to arise.
Doubt is the perfect environment for faith to arise.
I love this Kylie! It’s so beautifully written! I like how you talked about how it’s our choice to run to the Father or not. Can’t wait to see you share your story tomorrow!
Thank you so much, friend! I’m so glad you’re here 🙂