“Trust the Darkness—God’s path to the Light” 6-1-14

God of all things, light and dark, give us the courage to trust the wisdom of the universe when darkness seems to overcome all that is light.  Give us trust that darkness, like light, is a gift from Love.  Amen

 

                I am well acquainted with the darkness.  I think that most of us are.  It’s hard, if not impossible, to reach your 4^th, 5^th, or more decade without spending some time in the darkness.  For many of us, we grew to know darkness in our teens or even earlier.  Being in darkness is not the same as being in the dark.  How many of you (no need for hands here) know at least one person whom you feel is perpetually “in the dark” about how life, or the world, or being an adult works?  We tend to feel sorry for such a person knowing that ignorance is truly not bliss and that we usually miss out on much of life if we stay in the dark. 

                No, the dark is not the same as darkness.  I am sometimes afraid of the dark.  I am afraid because my eyes aren’t what they used to be and sometimes I can’t see very well and I worry that I might trip and fall.  I am not afraid of the darkness because the seeing is not physical at all; it is all within my heart, my spirit, and my soul.  I used to be afraid of darkness; but, along the way I not only lived through my own darkness but life gave me the opportunity to watch others live through theirs.  And, each time someone lived, I knew, more and more, that I had the power to live and more than just live as well.  One of the women who taught me this with her life and words died this past week.  I rarely find myself despairing the loss of famous people, after all, they are just people and I am busy mourning and celebrating the people I actually know.  But, this famous person was different.  I have known and loved Maya Angelou since I first read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings in the mid-eighties.  Throughout various times of my darkness, she was there with her words, her poetry, her smile, and that face—that face that simply radiated peace and joy and life.  I watched her speak for black people, for women, and for all of humanity.  But, it was in her experience of and ability to articulate the darkness itself that caused me to be drawn to her as a student is drawn to a great teacher of life.  And, now she is gone. 

                She left us more than most, that is for sure; and her words inspire us to trust this darkness about which we converse today.  In honor and memory of all that she has meant in my life and the life of the greater world, I want to use her words as a springboard into our discussion on trusting God in the darkness.  First, though, we must try to find some words to describe what the darkness is.  It is different for all of us—the causes are different, the precipitating factors, if you will—and the actual experience is as different in each of us as the varieties of species in life itself.  That is one of the reasons, beyond just total self-centered rudeness—that we are always on shaky ground when we begin our consoling of someone who is in the darkness by saying, “I know exactly how you feel—I remember when my…(you fill in the blank)”. 
                The darkness that each of us encounters along the way is ours alone—ours to experience, ours to process, and ours to trust to God.  Most of the time, when I encounter such a time, whether or not it be a day, a week, or a year, my first thought is “where is God and why do I feel so alone?”  Our Psalmist is saying the same thing, “Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?  Why do you make yourself scarce?... For as long as I remember I’ve been hurting; I’ve taken the worst you can hand out, and I’ve had it….You made lover and neighbor alike dump me; the only friend I have left is Darkness”.  Now, we rarely walk willingly into these times of darkness.  But walk, we must, when Darkness overcomes us, willingly or not.  For most of us, darkness is the great unknowing and we are rarely comfortable with unknowing.

                And, so, I return to Maya Angelou.  She begins by telling us “It is this belief in a power larger than myself and other than myself which allows me to venture into the unknown and even the unknowable.”  Strong and capable, she has proven that again and again, and yet she calls us to remember that we are in relationship with this “power larger than ourselves” and that this power is what allows her and us to venture forth.  She calls on us to find courage—courage that rises from within ourselves.  She says about her own life, “My life has been long, and believing that life loves the liver of it, I have dared to try many things, sometimes trembling, but daring, still.” This call to daring is what makes her represent the best in humanity.  That, darkness or not, we will dare.  Trembling in darkness, we still dare to try, as Dr. Angelou says, “many things”.  “Let nothing dim the light that shines from within” she says.  If you know the story of Maya Angelou you know that her childhood was not one to be envied.  She was bullied, mistreated, abused, and unloved.  She, by the standards of most, had every reason to surrender to despair.  And, yet, she did not, and in her refusal to allow nothing to dim the light that shone from within her, she teaches us lesson after lesson in how to survive a period of darkness, even if we believe with everything in us, that the light will never shine again.

                Other spiritual heroes also tangled with despair and depression.  Anton Boisen, is considered to be the father of modern clinical pastoral education—the program that pastors undergo to acquaint them with the crises of life that their congregants will bring to them for counseling or direction.  In the 1920’s, he was hospitalized for psychosis and depression.  Out of his own darkness, grew a belief that those very times of darkness bring out the greatest spiritual and psychological growth.  He saw these periods of crisis as full of creative possibilities.   He writes, “In times of crisis, when the person's fate is hanging in the balance, we are likely to think and feel intensely regarding the things that matter most.” In the midst of such occasions, needed ideas occur vividly and explosively in the minds of those in crisis.  These times are full of change and development.  Two other, more well-known spiritual giants are Fr. Henri Nouwen and Parker Palmer.  Both of these struggled with terrible bouts of depression and survived to write of the incredible spiritual maturity that emerged out of the need to depend on God alone during these periods.  Learning to listen to the voice of God is a gift that emerges in new ways during these times of great crisis.

                Dr. Angelou tells us, however, that coming to the other side of such crises is about much more than merely surviving.  “My mission in life,” she says, “is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”   And, in another place she credits “Love” as the condition in the human spirit that allows her to survive and to thrive.   And, in this thriving, she tells us that we have a responsibility to others:  “As soon as healing takes place, go out and heal somebody else.”   And, again, she says, “If I could give you one thought, it would be to lift someone up. Lift a stranger up--lift her up. I would ask you, mother and father, brother and sister, lovers, mother and daughter, father and son, lift someone. The very idea of lifting someone up will lift you, as well.”  If Maya Angelou were just a writer, I would not be inclined to pay her much attention, as beautiful as her poetry and prose are.  But, she was much more—she brought her pain to place where not only could the rest of humankind understand it, they could find courage for their own journeys.  Should we not do the same?  In trusting the darkness in our own lives, we live into our called mission of healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, and courage to the fearful.  We, like our sister, Maya, though the power of God, turn our sorrow into a source of joy for others.  I want to close with a brief portion of one of her most-loved poems because it speaks to those of us who have been marginalized, bullied, mistreated, or forgotten.  She calls us to rise into all that God created us to be.  She writes:

“Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.”

Amen and amen and Namaste.