Welcoming the dark

Early mornings are my favorite time of day. The sky is still dark, the house is quiet, my dog is sleepy, and my little corner of the world seems safe and still.   I make my favorite tea, light a candle, my dog grabs his spot on my lap, and I spend the next hour in prayer with Jesus. The only light I turn on is a tiny book light so I can see to read and journal. 

My structure for this time comes from a prayer practice that asks me to read and savor one short piece of scripture at a time. It then invites me to use my imagination to join Jesus in the everyday events of his life, which I am reading about.  I then talk and pray with Jesus and reflect on what I notice.

During the weeks of Lent, the Gospels of Matthew and John have guided me in this practice each morning,  unfolding the story of Jesus's last few days on earth. One step at a time and almost painfully slow, I have been paying attention to Jesus experiencing his own grief, pain, suffering, persecution, judgment, and betrayal, none of it pleasant at all. As I watch Jesus steadily move toward his last breath, my heart feels sorrow for what is happening to him,  along with a deep, humble gratitude that is hard to describe, knowing what his death provides me. 

Spending my early mornings in this time of darkness with Jesus has been a bit overwhelming. The temptation to move ahead quickly to release the tension I feel watching him suffer has been strong. Yet, in this process of moving slower than what feels comfortable, Jesus's story has invited me to be closer to him. 

And I am noticing. 

Noticing how humbling it must have been to receive the blessing of having your feet washed at the Last Supper, as Jesus gathered his people to be with him one last time. 

Noticing how much I wanted to protect Jesus from Judas's betrayal. 

Noticing the loneliness I felt as Jesus cried out to God in the Garden while his disciples slept.

Noticing the courage it took for Jesus to remain quiet when being arrested, mocked, and beaten.

Noticing how inspired I am when  Jesus shows us what obedience looks like as he trusts God and the cross as the pathway to our salvation. 

I also noticed that  Jesus did not attempt to run away, argue,  or try to get people to change their minds about his fate. He was filled with love. He paused to pray, invited people to pray with him, and even bestowed a blessing on his mother by making sure she was cared for before he died.  

I don't know about you, but when things get hard, I notice that my human self wants it to be over as quickly as possible. Our instinct is to find safety. It is in our nature to avoid pain and rush through seasons of darkness in our lives.  But Jesus does the exact opposite. 

Jesus allows even the hardest things to unfold in their own time, in their own way.  Even in his darkest hour,  he never rushes.

Barbara Brown Taylor is a favorite author of mine. Her book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, was a gift to me after my husband passed away. 

I quickly embraced her approach, as she writes about welcoming a season of darkness in our lives as a place of discovery. She encourages us to intentionally slow down and notice, to pause,  discover, and trust that our walk in the dark has a purpose. I needed her wise encouragement to help me navigate and embrace that season of darkness and uncertainty.

She offers:

Darkness is not the absence of light; 

it is the presence of everything 

that is waiting to be known.”

 BB Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark 

This is why the only light I  turn on in the morning during my time with Jesus is a tiny book light. I do not want to intrude on the darkness. I am learning to welcome the dark, to see what unfolds and comes to my attention, and to practice trusting that something is happening even if I can not see it.  Like Jesus, his journey to the cross was not the whole picture. He knew there was so much more coming. 

As we enter this final week of Lent, and the anticipation of what is on the other side of Jesus's journey to the cross rises,  may we simply pause, be with Jesus, and notice.

May this prayer be yours each morning as you pause.

In the Morning, Lord, you hear my voice: in the morning I lay my requests 

before you and wait expectantly.  Amen 

Psalm 5:3 NIV