Seeing the Dark, or How to Keep Stress from Eating You

There have been times when I will wake up in the middle of the night, and the dark is so deep that I get disoriented. I forget where the lamp by my bedside is, where the door is, which way is which. Having lost all sense of direction, a slight sense of panic will briefly arise and I'll kind of flail about trying to find my bearings (and possibly hitting my wife) in an effort to regain control of my faculties. These incidents last maybe ten or fifteen seconds, but they seem like an eternity. Finally, my eyes will adjust, my sensibilities return, my wife asks, "What'd you do that for?" and normalcy and sleep soon return.

In the midst of the panic, it's not just my senses that are scrambled, its my thinking. All the things that give me comfort or security are still right where they once were, but I am unable to recognize them, or even see them as they are. The reason?

I can only see the dark.

Crazy, right? I mean, the dark isn't an object you can see, it's more of a concept. It's not really even a color. But in those moments of...whatever that is, it becomes almost tangible, almost alive, and it can be terrifying.

Now, before you write me off as a big baby who is afraid of the dark, remember this is for like fifteen seconds. I actually love the dark, and like walking in it- on my terms, which these cases are most definitely not.

Also, I'm seeing these episodes as a metaphor for some current things I'm dealing with, and probably so are a lot of others.

When a kid is afraid of the dark, what they are really afraid of is what is IN the dark that will come out and get them. The dark is a cover for truly nefarious things. As an adult we don't believe in monsters, but we do believe there are bad things in the dark- things we can't see at the moment, but we know are there.

Like stress.

Bills we know are coming. That conversation that we know we must have. Obligations that need to be met. Responsibilities to be undertaken. Consequences that are going to fall. Then, sometimes these inevitables are eclipsed by the true terrors- possibilities.

Let's face it, good possibilities rarely keep us up at night, but the possibility, the fear that tomorrow you get fired, or someone you love gets hurt, or a tornado could hit- these spring your eyes wide open.

And they are irrational.

The problem I've had lately is that these stressors- real and imagined- have become the dark. THEY are what I see, and no amount of flailing about trying to find my comforts and safeties has worked. Because I see the problem, and not the solution.

In the last few weeks, I think I've wanted to see the problem more than the solution. It makes no sense, but by wallowing in the problems I see ( and being incapacitated by them) feels easier than trying to see the solutions. Maybe it's anxiety or a mental thing, or maybe it's a spiritual one. Or both.

Two things have happened in the last 24 hours that have begun to clear the dark for me, and hopefully it can for you if you've been 'seeing the dark.'

1) Last night, our church had Restoration, a our communion service made up of lots of music, low lights, and stories of thankfulness shared by people. One person, Ashley, spoke of the need for us to just talk about how much we love Jesus, and how good He is to us more often. Usually, I write that kind of talk off as "Sunshine and Rainbows" talk, but not the way Ashley put it. There was a truth to it- a truth because she meant it, felt it, experienced it and knew it. She was not reciting some mantra the church taught her, she was speaking out of the overflow of what God was doing in her heart. By the way, that's called worship. So, thanks Ashley for sharing that we need to see God instead of the problems, if you'll forgive my paraphrasing and co-opting there.

2) Spurred on by that seed planted last night, I turned the I-pod on to "How He Loves," Crowder's radio version. I turned to that song mostly because God usually speaks louder when I listen to that song over others. Not sure why, other than it is one of the more heartfelt worship songs I've ever heard. In the midst of an always moving song, there is the lyric:

When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realise just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

I recognized my problem was that I was all too aware of my 'afflictions.' They were the dark I could see, all that I could see. As if to accentuate the point, around the time this lyric went by, the sun broke through an overcast morning sky to shine on my face, startling me. See, God talks louder when you listen to the David Crowder Band.

That's the key to getting this. You either see your problems (your dark) or you see His affections for you. You cannot SEE them both. I'm not saying feeling loved by God makes your problems go away- it doesn't. But it so eclipses them that they are gone from pressing hard on your mind. You are not trapped by them, not in a panic over them.

For me, it is a choice I have to make constantly- do I see the dark, or do I see the glory and affection of God? Generally, if I want to feel in control, I try to see the dark. Which is ironic, because when I see the dark, I am in no way anywhere near the vicinity of in control.

But if I want peace? I let the dark be eclipsed by God's glory. I look at the love He has shown me, and trust in that.