Hearing God
in the Dark
By Megan Clark
T
HE MARSHMALLOWS WERE BOUGHT, the
camp chairs were set up, babies had taken good naps,
and all was ready for the perfect backyard bonfire night.
We had worked hard to build our own stone fire pit, and
the boys had found their ideal roasting sticks. The first
hour was pure bliss of burnt marshmallows and sticky
fingers. But we soon ran out of our small stockpile of
wood. Since everyone unanimously voted to continue
the fun, our only option was to head to the woods for
more firewood.
Our woods lie at the back of a five-acre field; it’s wide,
open, and on clear nights you can see almost every star in
the sky but can hardly see your hand in front of your face.
Armed with our cart and a flashlight, we set off across the
dark expanse towards the shadow of the woods on the
horizon. It didn’t take long for the lights from our house
and fire to disappear into the night behind us and for the
boys and me to be swallowed by the dark. The flashlight
beam hardly penetrated the darkness, and the boys kept
anxiously directing its light anywhere they thought they
heard a noise.
Funny how a place completely transforms in the dark.
The boys would have thought nothing about taking off
and running barefoot through that field just two hours
earlier, but now they took timid steps around invisible
barriers and cautiously peered around in all directions.
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They moved slower and slower the closer we got to the
woods. If the wide field wasn’t dark enough, the thick
trees ahead were a whole new definition of dark!
Then the Holy Spirit met me in my parenting and
created the perfect discipleship opportunity right in
the middle of that pitch dark field. I came to a stop and
said, “Boys, shine the flashlight right here, right in front
of us.” The ground directly in front of us lit up under
the beam, and the darkness scattered giving way to green
stalks of grass and hay. I directed them to concentrate
on that lightened space. Their tenseness drifted away at
the familiar sight of illuminated green earth. We stepped
over into that bright spot and then into the next and the
next. We slowly, but more securely, made it to the woods.
Along those illuminated steps where the boys kept the
light right in front of us, we talked about Psalm 119:105.
I said to the boys, “An oil lamp like David was talking
about isn’t a spotlight or an overhead fixture; it’s similar
to your small flashlight. It doesn’t light up every single
thing from here to the end; it gives just enough light to
take the next step and then the next and the next. And
that’s exactly how God’s Word can guide your heart
through this life. You won’t and can’t see through to
the end. I can’t either. But if I study and pray and seek
wisdom from God, I will have what I need to clearly take
the next step, and so do you.”