Recently we rented a cozy cottage along the Oregon coast. Its large windows gave expansive views of the Pacific Ocean. Each day it poured buckets, and then clear night skies with stars, planets, the Milky Way in plain sight . We had weather in its Pacific Northwest winter varieties!
Our cottage was in a remote cove that had no street lights and few neighbors. Night comes early in winter. When the interior lights go out, darkness becomes an eerie companion. Unwelcome to the likes of me. Invariably, I’ll wake up at an unknown hour to a start-and-startle that ushers panic within of an old suspicion of being abandoned all-over-again.
That feeling I first experienced when I was two years old, as polio forced me to be placed in isolation in a hospital ward far from home. That was decades ago. More than six. Yet those inhospitable hospital nights linger somewhere within, awakening abruptly in strange places.
You no doubt have shadows lurking within, dragged along from the past. Memories that haunt more than comfort. Know what I mean?
Psalm 132: 17–‘…I have prepared a lamp for my anointed.’ When we come to know Jesus, we become one of God’s anointed. Forgiven. God’s child. His own. Secure. What does He give us? ‘A lamp…’! Exactly what’s needed! He gives light extending His hand to hold onto.
I know myself a tad better these days. I’m not so ashamed to admit my foibles. Most of all, I know I can count on the Lord when I feel fears from long ago.
We can always count on Jesus. Always! For He said, ‘I am the light of the world’ (John 8:12). Even my little world! And yours, too!
Lord, thank you for your light. Amen.