Entering the Darkness

He's been so present and active for the past few weeks, more than I'm accustomed of late. So many things He's been showing me. Bringing into the light, rather. Of my past. Of my sin. Of forgiveness. Of grace. Of adoption.

Of hope in the midst of despair.

Of trust.

And of love, foremost.

I had still been very convinced I'd known love prior to coming into right relationship with Jesus. And...there were contorted reflections, yeah, but...self-indulgent, destructive, self-serving. Lustful and grasping. Fueled by desire for distraction from reality and desire for worship.

Jesus isn't like that, though. He speaks difficult truths. Wanting to see wellness come about.

And He embraces despite pain. He enters into pain with me, willingly.

I was reminded, yesterday, of a movie that used to be my favorite--What Dreams May Come. And I liked the cinematography, very vivid imagery with surreal depictions. And I liked the overt reference to spiritual reality, despite the pervading weirdness of it all--totally not based in truth, with barely even glimmers of reality. Next to none, really.

But what I most liked was the stark devotion, unyielding and unwavering, of the redemptive love depicted. Entering into impossibility to redeem the beloved. Entering willingly, knowing all odds are against. Knowing self-destruction is fairly a certainty but refusing to forsake hope. And, ultimately, forsaking self for the sake of being with the beloved.

Entering wholly into the wretchedness and despair and depravity and total lostness alongside the beloved. Willing to endure all suffering. For the sake of even the most remote chance of delivering the beloved. But all the more for the sake of being alongside, no matter the cost. At any cost. And at the cost of self, entirely, ultimately.

And it was that last giving over, losing self entirely but refusing to forsake the beloved...that was what was so compelling. And was what turned the tide.

Driving, yesterday, thoughts of the movie were with me and just at the point of remembering that scene of loss and despair and refusal to leave...I remembered the lead character's name, heard it said at that moment when capitulation occured in the beloved, unexpectedly...just at the point when he fell prey, lost himself.
"Christy," she said--reaching for him in desperation, seeing him become lost. At that moment, driving past a sign for "Camp Christi," founded by a local church.

He entered in, though. Jesus did. He didn't hold back. He didn't stop.
He didn't withhold any part of Himself against entering into and enduring our sufferings. But came to be with us, in the midst. Alongside and with us.
Even to bear the burdens, Himself.

And out of love, He still wants to bear those burdens--our fears, our strivings, our griefs. Everything. Our hopes and dreams.

He is here. With us, still. In Spirit. Amongst us. His love has never left us to our own devices. He entered in, delivering Himself up to destruction so we could be delivered from it. Into His love again. Despite that we were even the ones to deliver ourselves over to destruction at the outset. His love covers a multitude of sins.

But that movie. I longed for that love. Wanted to know it and to embody it. Unwavering. Undaunted. Self-sacrificing. At any cost. Still.

It's a dream which hasn't died. So, all the more gladly to pursue Christ. And howsoever as He wills, otherwise. Even to love those He puts me alongside for howsoever long He sees fit and good.

Love doesn't cease when there's distance, even. Just...surrenders to the Lord and seeks His continued intervention.

And His light will shine all the brighter in the darkness.
Speaking with a woman who was a dear friend of my mother's about circumstances with my father, a year and so prior, she was given to say that being enshrouded in darkness then all the more will the light of Christ stand out.

A light which can't be overcome. A light which can't be dimmed.
And which can't be comprehended, exhausted, or discounted.

He is here, ever waiting.