The good dark

The following devotional from the PocketFuel team struck a chord with me when I first read it a few months ago:

I've spent so much of my life being afraid of the dark. Literally, and figuratively. Afraid of the night and the unknown. Afraid of hard times. I've pursued light and ease and fortune, and every time I was met with darkness, I fought it, struggled it, preached at it, quoted scripture, denied its power…

And missed out on its glory and beauty and gifts each and every time.

A favourite quote of mine by Thomas Merton has changed my life:

"The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek."

It is in facing our darkness, entering into it, even embracing it - the covering of bandages for healing; the dark cold pressure of earth that forges gold; the dark place of conception - that we find what we're truly seeking: strength, clarity, meaning, change, purpose, compassion, connection, and more.

Mary Oliver wrote:

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."

We're afraid of the dark, but we don't have to be.

The Divine is in the dark just as much as in the light. It's not that God is immune to darkness, but that God works through and in both night and day, dark and light. They need each other, actually. Without one, the other wouldn't exist. They are in a relationship with each other, they are not enemies. In our material world, and in the spiritual, we need both experiences of dark and light to survive and thrive.
Isaiah 45:3:

"I will give you the treasures of darkness
And hidden riches of secret places,
That you may know that I, the Lord,
Who call you by your name,
Am the God of Israel."

(The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek… that box of darkness is a gift, too.)
Perhaps you need to spend some time apologizing to the dark for taking it for granted. Reclaim a sense of respect and awe for it. Don't blame it for where you are not, and for who you are not. The dark is not our scapegoat for our need for certainty and constant illumination. Practice (and it is a practice) being still in the darkness. Finding contentment and peace. Owning where you are, and submitting yourself to the process of night that gets you to the dawn… knowing that when the day is over, you will once again find yourself if the cool, dark, peaceful night. Like Paul, discover that contentment isn't made of light or dark, but of being where you are right now and savoring the moment, doing the work, and being present in it as God is present, too.

When we begin to reclaim our respect for darkness, we'll discover that it too, is just as powerful to heal and transform and release and nurture and teach and love as the light.

May you, dear friend, discover the good dark.
Written by Liz Milani.