Light

Light

He closed his eyes and slipped into the darkness so that we might know the light.

The story of God and man begins in darkness:

 

First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see. 
Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. 
God’s Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss.
God spoke: “Light!”
And light appeared.
God saw that light was good
and separated light from dark.
Genesis 1:1-5 (The Message)

And so begins the journey of man. Placed in paradise, made for the light, made for a holy relationship between our creator and ourselves. But, as if living in paradise is not enough; with one act of this thing called “free will”, everything changed and we turned out the lights.

And thousands of years later on a dark and inhospitable night, a child was born. A child who was the very light itself. Born into a violent world of political turmoil, social unrest, a time of unspeakable cruelty and violence. And this child, God, in human form, grew to be a man of light.

He walked through the dark and sparse landscape of first century Israel encouraging the poor, bringing eyesight to the blind, showing compassion to the sinner. Healing the sick, caring for the broken hearted, shining a light into the dark places of humanity.

And ultimately he died for us. Died that we might have life. Closed his eyes and slipped into the darkness so that we might know the light. And his desire is for us to use that light. To shine it into the dark places of our world. To do what he did, engage with the unloved and the unlovely.


And then there was darkness…

Burning souls with broken hearts
have learnt their lines and played their parts
as Pilate flies through darkened skies
his broken dreams show satan’s lies.
This rain must fall.

Shotgun tears the side apart
betrayal hangs in the evening mist,
crimson earth, a bleeding heart.
A mother’s tears do they gain us much
as we are fading out of touch.

What’s been foretold’s forgotten fast
an entire nation rejects its past.
Blood runs cold
the pain is there
This man dies
as the curtain tears.

The crimson flood
cleans this harsh land
Satan’s lies broken under foot
a crippled past will walk again
after the rain.

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