One of my favorite places to pass away the afternoon is the Ledge. The Ledge is really a span of concrete in the shell of a soon-to-be built (or previously built and now torn down, not sure which) hotel on our shortcut route down into town. It overlooks Temple Rd. and the _ Valley in which Lower Dharamsala is situated. Here is a picture to give you a better idea of the view:
This afternoon I was romanced on the Ledge, for in the hour or so that I sat there God sent to me thousands of yellow butterflies, floating out of the trees behind me and down into the valley below in broken streams. Then, in the midst of this migration, the hawks appeared. With wingspans of more than four feet they soared continuously on the updrafts, slicing between the butterflies in a harmonious interspecies dance of the air. I was captivated.
I have always loved panoramic views, which you could probably figure out by looking at my pictures. I’m not big on portraits; rather, I focus on the unassuming, expansive and diverse essence of nature. I suppose it is a pictorial representation of my general view on life, in that I am not a ‘black and white’ thinker but rather a ‘big picture’ thinker, finding it oftentimes difficult to dissect situations down to simple choices. When it comes to religion, though, everything eventually comes down to simple choices. Do I believe in God, or don’t I? Did Jesus die on the cross for me, or didn’t he? Should I sin, or shouldn’t I? And so on and so forth. One of the easiest differentiations is between darkness and light. No light, light. Easy. God is in the light, so we should be in the light. But we spend so much time in the darkness. Recently I’ve begun to realize something really rather obvious: God is in the darkness, too. If that’s true, when are we truly in darkness, and when are we ‘in the light’, when we’re surrounded by darkness?
My first foray into this exploration of God’s presence came with the reading of Psalm 139, which I think may be my favorite psalm. In a nutshell, this psalm is about the unknowable depth of God’s understanding of us. He knows us intimately. He has searched us. He knows what we will say before the words reach our tongues. It says, ‘Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.’ I think that many people, when they first read this, would inherently think: creepy. I admit I did, when I first read it. But why should it be? After all, he is our creator; he should know us intimately. As the psalm also states, ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.’ At the end of the psalm, the psalmist comes to full understanding of God’s depth and power, he harnesses it and uses it as a tool for greater knowledge and deeper love. He says, ‘Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’ Oh, that this would be at the heart of our prayers!
The one line that hit me hardest in this psalm is at verse 11: ‘If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.’ At creation, God separated the darkness from the light, the night from the day. This means, of course, that both coexisted in the same space previously, a concept we simply cannot comprehend.
A few years ago, I was struggling through my own personal demons in a very real and painful way. In the course of my struggle I often found myself alone, depressed and in the dark. And it felt good. Even now (and I believe most people can identify with this) I find it almost peaceful to retreat into a dark place, into aloneness and melancholy. There’s something comforting about it. This comfort led me to believe that it’s a trap that ensares many people into never leaving the dark, that it keeps them from ever venturing into the light, into freedom. But what if, sometimes, God is venturing into our darkness, meeting us there and bringing comfort to us, romancing us to Him in the dark? I’m not saying this happens this way every time, for certainly depression and isolation are oftentimes degenerative to one’s growth. But God is always there too, right? We are never really alone.
One of the books I’m currently reading is ‘Praying the Lord’s Prayer for Spiritual Breakthrough’, by Elmer T. Towns (who, coincidentally, was a founder and vice president of Liberty University where Peggy and other friends attended college). In it, he relates the story of when he visited Mt. Rushmore late at night, just missing the spotlights normally illuminating the presidents’ faces. This particular night, in the pitch blackness, there was a lightning storm. And Elmer was drawn into worship. ‘That evening my sanctuary was the observation platform at Mt. Rushmore. God’s prompting was his lightning.’ As each flash of lightning revealed more features of the presidents’ faces, Elmer was discovering the many names of God and how each name reveals a different aspect, or role, of God’s character.
‘The blackness between flashes of light seemed even blacker. Maybe it was because when we see God’s light, everything else is night. Just as “night unto night sheweth knowledge” (Ps. 19:2), so the blackness of Rushmore illuminated for me the golden glow of God. The lightning storm passed over Rushmore and the flashes became less frequent, but God is eternal light. I felt comfortable in the darkness because “The darkness He called Night” (Gen. 1:5).’
Darkness for us is never darkness for God, because darkness is as light to him. He’s present, and His presence brings holiness into the dark. I’ve been trying for years to run in the opposite direction every time I feel the pull of the darkness, into those moments of isolation and aloneness. What if I was resisting His pull, into a quiet space where He can romance me and reveal more of Himself to me? What if, all of those times I found comfort and peace in the dark, I was feeling His comfort and peace without knowing it, instead of the trap of sin and decay that I had previously viewed it as? Surely sometimes that is truly what I am feeling, but if God is in the dark, and if where He is is holy ground, then even in those truly dark moments I can choose to see the Light that is also present.
(I’m now going to tag onto this a topic that I have no intimate experience with and won’t until I get married, but seems prudent to share particularly as all of these seemingly unrelated readings have simultaneously converged upon me with intertwined revelations and I feel inclined to include it)
The gist of all of this is really that we should be striving ceaselessly to discover and be romanced, known intimately and know intimately, God. M. Scott Peck, in ‘Further Along the Road Less Travelled’, another book I’m reading, talks about sex and how it is one of the physical acts that brings us closest to God. This acutely happens in the orgasmic experience. ‘Once we reach those heights we actually lose the awareness of our partner. At that brief peak point of little death, we forget who we are and where we are. And in a very real sense, I think, this is because we have left this earth and entered God’s country… So the sexual experience is potentially religious. Is the religious experience sexual?’ This, to me, is yet just another example of the ways in which we are being drawn to God in every experience, even (and maybe most especially) in the dark. Peck states that ‘if it is the best possible orgasm you are after, then the best way to achieve it is with someone who is deeply beloved to you.’ Shouldn’t God be deeply beloved to us? As I mentioned, this subject is uncomfortable to me because of my inexperience with it. But am I really that inexperienced? Like that abandonment of self and place when we achieve orgasm, don’t we completely lose ourselves in God when in worship and prayer? Well, we should, anyway. This of course brings to mind Song of Songs, basically a deeply romantic, sensual duet between God and us. As Peck mentions, ‘I don’t believe it is an accident that throughout history most of the very best erotic poetry has been written by monks and nuns.’ The example he gives is ‘Dark Night’, by Saint John of the Cross. An excerpt:
‘O guiding night! O night more lovely than the dawn! O night that has united the Lover with his beloved, transforming the beloved into her Lover.’
(I find it ironic how prevalent this poem’s title and content is to my earlier subject material, don’t you?)
So sex is a distinctly physical experience, done in the dark, which brings us into God’s kingdom each time we reach the pinnacle. Sex is a holy experience. Even atheists say, ‘Oh, God!’ when they achieve orgasm.
I can’t wait to get married, for a multitude of reasons. I’m really looking forward to my wedding night, not only because of the physical act that will take place but because of the inescapable holiness and inexpressible love I will experience. To be with my beloved, my wife, and with my Beloved, my God, in the dark. To experience the light.
There are questions, questions with simple answers: Am I alone, or am I not? Am I being romanced, or am I not? Am I in darkness, or am I in light? Can I experience God? No, you are not alone. Yes, you are forever being romanced. You are in darkness, but the darkness is as light to God so through Him you are really in light. You’ve already experienced God, and you are now. I’m only beginning to understand the ways that He is with me. I struggle to find Him in the dark even though I know He is there. It’s a simple choice, the choice to see Him and interpret the comfort as His comfort, the peace as His peace, the aloneness as aloneness with Him. I’m learning to blend the dark and light, to understand an iota of what Genesis 1 meant, to recognize that He is in it all, that there is no escaping Him. I’m beginning to understand that an act that for so many isolates them from God also brings them immediately into His presence. As I said at the beginning of the post, I am a ‘big picture’ person. But sometimes, there is no big picture. No gray. Sometimes there is only you and God. Do you choose to see Him, or don’t you?
‘Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’
