I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning. Psalm 130:5-6 (ESV)

Simon and Garfunkel sang about darkness being their friend. It is true that in the middle of the night, there can be a special stillness that can bring peace. But for many, darkness is far from friendly, especially if their emotions hover in a dark place.
The psalmist relates to those who feel uneasy sitting in the darkness. He compares their waiting on God to act on their behalf to a watchman on a lookout tower peering into the blackness. He holds short, quick breaths to stay alert, hoping he doesn’t detect an enemy stealthily sneaking toward the gated community he is in charge of protecting. Come on morning… come on light. Illuminate the landscape so I can see all is well.
And so the watchman waits… so do the many crouched on their beds as tears drip down their cheeks. Or children who cringe at every creaky sound in the house, or the caregiver who is not sure he or she can watch their loved one suffer one more night. The parent waiting for their child to come home, fearing the worst.
Perhaps you are there right now. In the dark. Wait…
Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength… Isaiah said that. Believe it. Cling to it.
Lips whisper a prayer, “Shine, Jesus, shine on me–the way the dawn brightens the sky. Let me feel the warmth of Your love on my face and shoulders as Your loving strength penetrates every inch of my body. You will let the sun rise every morning, so I know You will lighten my darkness…”
No wonder many start their day praising the Lord. After all, the dawn does finally come, and with it, the promise that God is there and He cares. He was right there in the darkness all along.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23




It happened…like it always does, I suppose. Murphy’s Law in motion. With a deep smile, I tuned in to TV program I’d been wanting to watch for weeks and in a split second–nothing.
At a women’s retreat about a year ago I won the door prize of an African violet. It bloomed for a while, then stopped. For months it kept putting out leaves but it never bloomed again. I figured maybe it was out of season. But this spring, though it still thrived, was pushing out new leaves…no blooms.
Do you ever feel nearly burned out? Can’t really hum This Little Light of Mine with fervor at that moment? Yeah, I know the feeling.
I have to turn my house plants ever so often or they will grow crookedly. They will repeatedly bend towards the source of light coming into my apartment from the window. Pretty soon, if I don’t rotate them, one half of the plants will be bare. Those leaves on the dark side will shrivel and die. The side aimed toward the light will flourish and grow. However, it will be at a skewed angle, and some of the leaves may be crowded out. It won’t look very healthy because the whole plant hasn’t been exposed the same amount to light.
Jesus said He is the LIGHT of the world. How many dark crevices do each of us have we’d prefer He not shine into? Areas of hidden shame, character flaws, deep hurts we cling to out of habit, justification, denial, or fear of letting go. I have a few, don’t you?
Normally, a sconce hangs outside my entry to greet me. Via an automatic sensor, it flicks on when the skies darken. The same detector operates the ones at each of the four apartments in my unit along a sheltered, outdoor breezeway. I have become dependent upon its illumination when I come home after dark. It provides not only better ability to see the stairs and my door’s keyhole, but adds a sense of security. Tonight, that safeness I’d taken for granted didn’t exist.

