Darkness

“Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” -Galatians 5:25

For the first time as I sit to write, it feels as though I’ve encountered something impossible. I feel as though I have no direction in what I’m about to say, or any faith in myself that this will be turned into something legitimate or that God will work in me or through me. I prayed for clarity. I prayed for wisdom. I prayed to be filled with His words instead of my own. I prayed to have insight that would inevitably lead to healing within myself. Yet, I continue to stare blankly wondering where to start. I figured, once I started writing the words will come to me.

I always thought that what I lacked in knowledge I made up for in faith. Now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s the other way around. I’m full of the Truth. I know what God has to say, I repeat His words to soothe my anxious soul. I remind myself of His promises. I state what He calls me to do so that I’m living a life that is pleasing to Him. I try to do everything by the Book. But what happens when knowing isn’t enough? Isn’t that when faith is supposed to step in? When faith fills you with a comforting sense of trust in the unseen, what has been promised, and what life is intended to be?

I’m beginning to realize the vast space that is between knowing and believing. For me, that space is filled with doubt, experience, and an inability to fully surrender. I find it difficult to trust, I find it challenging not to be in control, and I find experience speaks louder than knowledge. I’ve lived other people’s sin. When others sin against you, it undoubtedly leaves a mark. I know that this mark can never be washed away. I’ve come to terms with that, knowing that out of this evil will come good. I’ve accepted that this mark is merely a battle scar showing what I’ve overcome.

I’m at a standstill in my faith. I know the Truth. But I also know what I’ve endured. It has left its ever present mark. It remains as a fear of others, a startled response at the slightest touch, and a fear of intimacy. It remains as nightmares, an inability to trust, and a shadow that taunts me and reminds me that I’m damaged. Being filled with the Truth isn’t enough. I know what He says, but these fears still live in me. Knowing isn’t always believing; I say that hesitantly. I believe every word God has spoken. The Spirit is in me. I believe. I just don’t always walk with the Spirit. Our steps aren’t in sync. The Spirit walks a consistent beat of truth while I stumble from fear. How do I learn to walk with the Spirit, to keep in step without falling too far behind?

I can keep feeding myself the Truth, but experience is always nagging. So do I continue to fill myself with the good, or do I turn back and face the evil? Maybe it isn’t so black and white, perhaps it's a shade of gray? Do I call out what was dark, acknowledge its darkness, and fill its space with light? Even the tiniest spec of light eliminates blackness. Light will always overpower darkness. “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.”(2 Corinthians 4:6) I see the light, I feel the light, but I am living with a lingering presence of darkness.

Its presence is unsettling. It’s like breathing stagnant air. I've learned that the farther we push something to the back of our minds the louder it becomes. I’ve pushed away the darkness, I’ve buried the memories, and just when I think I’ve tricked myself into moving on the louder the thoughts become. I’m ready to face the darkness, no matter how cold and unwelcoming it may be. I’m ready to come into the light, and feel the warmth of a new day.