100 Theme #4: The Darkness and the Light

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This was not originally written for the 100 Theme challenge, however it fitted point four, and I realized it would work well with it.

She watched him from a distance; her thoughts knotting into a tangled mass as she tried to interpret what she saw in the man. Pondering... her mind attempted to envelope his character; to comprehend what it was about him that made him the way he was. How she wished she could unravel the confusion that clouded his soul, so that she could gaze into it and understand.

Such darkness... at first glance, one would not know it existed in him. On the outside he smiled, he laughed; he seemed happy. His life was a righteous one: he loved God, family, and revelled in hard work. He was highly creative, bringing his own uniqueness and style to everything he touched. He genuinely cared for people; had many friends who looked up to him. He was one of those people you meet and take an instant liking to. How did the darkness find room to exist? She thought to herself. Where had it come from?

She didn’t know him. Not really. The man was merely an acquaintance; someone she talked to now and then. But she had caught a glimpse of his life. He had a wisdom that inspired not only her, but the people around him: one would always go to him with deep questions or to ask his advice on various things. And so talented! He threw himself into everything he was passionate about and always pulled them off in a spectacular fashion. He was a man to be admired for his achievements and good character.

And yet... she wasn’t sure why, but she sensed a darkness in him. It was like a black ink that threatened to permeate his life. It was mostly hidden from view, but upon observance, you would begin to see telltale trickles that crept silently into his life; staining things that he touched with its abysmal blackness. It often revealed itself through his creativity; artistic expressions that delved into dark and unbidden places... places of violent horrors and deep emotional pain. Gore and blood; heart-wrenching pain and soul-tearing anguish... all described in such vivid colour that it made one wince in empathy.


She couldn’t help but wonder if all this was real to him. How else could he detail such torments with so much accuracy? What secrets were buried in his soul that would bring forth this blackness? Her heart ached for the pain that seemed so apparent in his life. Was it a pain that was now lost to the pages of his existence, or was it one that remained: as real and raw now as it ever was? Curious though she was, she would never ask. It was not her way. The darkness she saw was enough; her tear-filled eyes threatening to overflow in sorrow for this man who seemed so lost.

But was he really lost? Did this darkness indeed, truly exist? Or was it all in her imagination? For at times, the joy of the Lord shone in him so intensely that it threatened to catch the air alight around him. It was a joy that rubbed off on people; inspiring all those he came in contact with. She could imagine this joyous light shining in his eyes as he turned his gaze heavenward. Nothing dark here. His was a soul pure before its Maker. Pure joy, pure enrapture, that made one’s heart sing to witness. She loved to see him like this. It brought a golden sunlight into the room when he entered, and a white light to the page of his writing. A shining witness of God’s glory that was beautiful to behold. The darkness nonexistent.

Rivals.

The word leaped to her mind with a subconscious start. The darkness and the light. Rivals.

Darkness: the knowledge of living in a fallen world. Fallen, sinful, blackened. The violence, pain, torture, wickedness... the sorrow of living in such a world; to have been born of it. This was the darkness. Was it only evident in this one man? It couldn’t be. Everyone had entered the same world. Her thoughts turned inward, groping into the depths of her own heart and soul. Yes... there was a darkness there; it was the knowledge of who she was. Who she had been. Human. Wicked.

A sinner.

Did it not come forth in different ways from her own life? Her temper was foul, her tongue lashing, her thoughts critical. Was this not as bad - if not worse than - the violence or emotional turmoil others express?

And what of the light...?

Ahhh, The Light. I Am the Light. The One who came to save us, she remembered. Who endured the darkness - the blackest - for them. Conquered, defeated the darkness. Death, violence, torture, pain... destroyed-- forever. Whose blood washed it all away for those who love Him. Washed clean: pure, anew... a light that enters one’s heart and shatters the darkness, unshackles the chains, and sets free the captives.

Perfect love casts out all fear, but what of Light? Surely only perfect Light can cast out all darkness. The revelation of truth poured through her soul; enamoring her, enrapturing her. This perfect love that made her perfect. The blood of her Saviour that washed her clean. The Light of His glory shining through her soul.

Yet, what of the darkness she could see? Her thoughts returned to the man. What of the rivalling light and darkness she could see there? They are the rivals of humankind, she realized: not just one person. The darkness of the enemy continually tries to blot out the Light; reminding us of what we once were. We once were lost, but now are found... the song echoed inside her mind.

The darkness she saw was the man that once was.

The light was the Lord reminding him of what he now is.

Saved. Redeemed. Bought. Free. Alive. Light.

You are the light of the world. The words whispered gently in her ear.

She smiled.

And the darkness disappeared.
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