It was cold and glum on Tuesday morning and the sky was grey and dead. Dry brown leaves were blowing round the yard and the wind was moaning it’s way through the tall poplars at the back of our house.
I had, open on the kitchen table, the gospels and a notebook. A little morning reading and a good strong cup of tea. I leant forwards over the words, searching for something to carry me into the day ahead. Lost in the smaller world of my kitchen, the book and the gloom of the day.
And then I looked up …
I looked up from the from the page and the whole vast sky beyond the kitchen was lighted up with colour fit for a day in glory.
One moment the sky was still and cold. The next moment it was alive with light, hues of vivd pink and velvety purple, a great trail across the expanse of the sky, just a quick distance from where I sat. In the short moment when I bowed my head the darkness of the morning had been changed. Without announcement. Without ceremony. Without any expectation or effort on my part, it came as a gift.
All week I’m reading and memorising the beautiful and trustworthy words of John about Jesus,
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
I work and I pray. A friend is unwell, another has been let down. I am perplexed that things do not always work out the way I planned. I struggle with something that should come easily and at night I fall into bed very, very, tired. But in the mornings when I bow my head over the words … every time I bow my head over the words and read I look up to find, without any effort on my part, the whole world alight with the glory of God. I can see it so close I can nearly touch it in every unrelenting, impossible situation and every exhausted and bedraggled face. Because, however hard the darkness tries to extinguish the light, however many times it reached to stuff her out, the darkness has none of that power. And light will always win.