There’s something uneasy about darkness. The darker the setting the more ominous it feels. You’ll never see a haunted house that is fully illuminated. All of those scary movies have an intense moment when the lights grow dim that clue you in to a terrifying experience that’s just around the corner. Darkness can be simply defined as the absence of light. The less light, the more dim a situation becomes. The more dim a situation is, the less hope is found there.
As terrifying as a dark room can be in a haunted house, it’s more devastating when that darkness affects someone you know and love. In a recent visit with a family member I noticed something that sent chills down my spine. I walked into the kitchen as I do twice a week, but this time something was different. The room was dim. All of the lights were on but there was a darkness that was looming.
As I looked into their eyes, the glow that has always defined them was growing dim. It wasn’t dark. The light was still there, but the light was lessening in its intensity. There was a war going on inside them. It is a battle between light and darkness, and it appears that darkness is winning this fight. If you know someone with Alzheimer’s or Dementia, you know well the reality of watching the lights slowly grow dim. The loved ones with whom you interact are there smiling as they always have but something is different. The light of their life and memory is growing dim.
I’ve never been a fan of darkness. As a child, I did everything I could to stay out of the dark. I had a nightlight in the hallway and likely one in my room as well. Before one light was turned off, I had already flipped the switch on the next one. We don’t like darkness, none of us really do. The darker a situation, the more likelihood of disaster or terror.
As I looked into the eyes of these people I love so dearly, I felt a swell of emotion come over me. Light and darkness where waging a war inside their minds and darkness was winning. I started to feel defeated. I began to wonder what was God thinking. Why would this disease even be allowed? When someone has difficulty recognizing their own children and grandchildren, darkness is in the driver seat. And the worst part about it – there’s nothing we can do!
We try to jog memories. We patiently retell stories to bring back a spark in hopes that it will trigger a new fire of memories. But it never really happens. We answer the same
questions dozens of times, but never brush them aside as irrelevant. We know these are the questions of a person struggling to find light again.
As I stood in the kitchen looking into their eyes, seeing the light dimmer than it ever has been, I was drawn to a truth that I believe at my core. It comes from John (1:4), in the bible. In him was life and that life was the light of men. This verse refers to Jesus. It tells that Jesus is a light that came into the world to beat darkness at its own game. It talks of salvation and eternity but speaks truth to the reality of my Tuesday morning visit. Looking into their faces, it appeared that darkness was winning. Then it dawned on me. Where there is life, there is light.
I know there is light in them. Even though their eyes are growing dim and one day they will close their eyes to the darkness of death, light still won for them too. Even though sometimes they can’t remember me, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus remembers them. Their light may be growing dim, but Jesus’ light shines bright for them.
So for now, I hold them. I remember for them. I’ll share my light with them. As long as there is light, I’ll let my light shine so they can see. I’ll trust and believe that when they close their eyes, Jesus’ light will be enough. His light never fades. His light means life for us. His life means light for us. Jesus’ light is enough.
So far in our look at worship, we’ve covered the topics of 
Now I have to be honest. It’s easy to get overcome by the troubles in life. We get stressed about the things life throws our way. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this devotion just days before my family goes on a vacation, on a cruise. And to be completely transparent, I’m scared. No – I never was held under water as a child. I have no reason at all why I should be afraid. It’s a completely irrational fear. I’m afraid of not being in control. I’m afraid of something happening that I can’t anticipate. In short I just simply am having a hard time getting the courage to step onto that boat. But I know that I have to do it. 
Last week we looked at the basic idea of what is worship. Simply put, worship is the action of God coming to us and filling us. It’s God inviting us to a time and a place, to a lifestyle of receiving from God then (and only then) do we return with hearts of thankfulness and praise. The whole post on 
One of my favorite accounts in the gospels happens to be the one where Peter is called to come walk on the water to Jesus. I often wish I had been there to see the whole thing unfold. If you’re not familiar with the story, it goes like this. 
