For You will light my candle. The LORD my God will enlighten my darkness.
Psalm 18:28
God's Night Light
The power went off just as the sun was sitting and I was irritated. For the past two weeks I had been fascinated by Joni Eareckson Tada's book, When God Weeps, and I wanted to finish it. I'd covered five chapters on the mystery of suffering and knowing Joni typed these one letter at a time using a stick held between her teeth while useless hands lay in her lap and useless legs sat confined to a wheelchair gave the words a depth and honesty I've never found in any other book on the subject.
For a few minutes I was able to read outside, but the gathering darkness soon made that impossible. No moon. No street lights. No yard security lights. I went inside. No hum of the air-conditioner. No light in the refrigerator. No lamps. Mom and I lit candles, but the pages of the old book had yellowed and the print wasn't clear.
That's when I came up with an idea I thought ingenious. I'd bought some inexpensive scented candles from Wal-Mart that came in glass jars. By holding the tiny jar right against the page, there was just enough light to make reading possible. I settled in my rocker; book in one hand, glass jar in the other. I really wanted to get to her last chapter because that was the one titled, Suffering Gone.
Joni had done a masterful job of suggesting some reasons why Christians suffer: Suffering increases our awareness of the sustaining power of God [1]. It keeps us dependent on God [2], teaches humility [3], imparts the mind of Christ [4], develops godly character [5] teaches obedience and self-control [6], and is part of our struggle against sin [7] But I wanted the last chapter; the one that talked about the end of all suffering and the tiny light was just enough to keep me turning the pages and understanding what they said.
It was satisfying to read again about the end of the story and the glories of heaven, but as I closed the book, I noticed a strange phenomenon. The little light, which at first barely illuminated a page, had somehow grown brighter. Or, so it seemed. Then I realized the difference was not in the light at all. The light was the same as always. It was the darkness that had changed. As darkness deepened, the contrast between light and dark became more clear and everything the light touched was clearer, too.
I thought of Psalm 18:28 and looked up the meaning of the Hebrew. The words now read: For thou (the Lord himself, not a spirit or an angel) will light (set on fire, shine) out through my candle; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness (misery, ignorance, sorrow) and make it shine.
I don't know all the reasons for suffering. Neither does Joni. But small lights from a single verse can be a strong comfort as we face a darkening world.
