Hope, desire and the best laid schemes of mice & men

Going back to the blogging pen after a five month absence is like jumping in the pool really fast (versus one toe and limb at a time) to get the shock over with.  It feels ever so unfamiliar at first ...

A new year has come, and it could not have come soon enough.   A majority of 2011 will, for me, be remembered as a very long dark night of the soul.  "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life." (Proverbs 13:12)  This, along with other verses in the Bible about hope and desire, have lately left me chasing my own theological tail, running in circles and becoming spectacularly dizzy in the process.  Did I survive a car accident where my car flipped two and a half times and landed upside down for a purpose?  Was it just sheer irony that a neck injury surfaced a month later, along with debilitating non-stop migraines, right after finding out I was pregnant and could not take anything but Tylenol?  Did I have an early ultrasound only to find out that I had been carrying twins but one had stopped developing?  And three weeks later, being devastated to find out that our other baby no longer had a heartbeat ... what, in God's name, was the purpose and meaning in that?  I've lost people close to me before and dealt with my own grief and others' grief.  Miscarrying two babies has been in an entirely different universe of grief and loss, and there have been times I wondered not only if I'd ever find my way home, but if I even wanted to.

God knows I've been angry at Him.  The anger has mostly passed, and now there is a gaping, cavernous hole in my heart.  It's oh so childish, but now I can't talk to Him - which is better, yelling at God, or "ignoring" Him?  Through the surgeries for cancer, the diagnosis of MS, and other health problems, I really have never asked or wondered, "Why me?"  Apparently there was a profound shift when the other shoe dropped this time and it encompassed not just me, but the life inside me that was a part of my husband too.  Just after seeing my husband's face light up at the picture of our baby on the monitor, I glimpsed the chagrined look on the ultrasound technician's face.  I'm pretty sure shock/numbness was the first wave to hit after she told us she was so sorry but she didn't see a heartbeat.  But it was not long at all before I was angry, and it was all directed at the One who had shaped and formed those babies.  Why let me hope??  Why let me be pregnant at all and create and shape that desire???  When is it enough, enough heartbreak, enough physical pain????  Why was I such a fool to believe that surely God knew I had been through enough and wouldn't allow the additional pain of miscarriage?  I'm pretty sure some form of that last question was the one I asked aloud to my husband.  My husband, who was also grieving, mourning and dealing with his own emotions. 

As odd as it may sound, none of this shook my faith.  Nor did my faith stop me from biting, kicking and hitting the loving arms that were wrapped so tightly around me and have never, ever let go.  I have wanted to scream at people for being marvelously insensitive, full of drama or just plain annoying, even though very few people knew what was going on and, despite the tone of this blog post, I do know that this life is not about me.  I seriously contemplated breaking the radio whenever I heard Christmas music since, as it turns out, many Christmas songs are about a baby being born.

I know that God is still God and God is still good.  There are days, and have been many since that fateful doctor's visit on December 1st, where I simply have not cared.   I know that what is allowed in my life is allowed by God for my good and for His glory.  While I don't doubt the truth of that and know better than to think I could possibly imagine how this situation will be used for my good or His glory, still ... I am finding it incredibly hard to feel anything but apathy.  We are still grieving.  It is a process, and does not proceed according to anyone's timetable.  My mother had four miscarriages, and I have many friends and family members who have gone through miscarriage - your heart breaking for them does not in the remotest way prepare you for that maternal or paternal instinct that envelops you when you realize you are going to be a mother or father.  We know that our babies are in the arms of Jesus, we know all the medical reasons that are true but sound horribly prosaic or condescending as you're going through it, but for my part at least, I can't even come up with the faintest guess as to why God let me become pregnant in the first place. 

I desperately fear becoming a fatalistic narcissist, and all the more so after writing this particular blog.  And maybe this is narcissistic because writing provides a cathartic release for me, but that is a chance that simply must be taken.  A very long time ago I learned that I could plan and scheme and dream all the day long ... and that all those plans and schemes and dreams are subject to the will of the sovereign Creator of all things.  If my desire is not for God and to bring Him glory, then almost certainly there will be a necessary rearrangement, readjustment or scrapping of my plans to align with His.  David says this in Psalm 37:4:  "Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."  When to hope, what to hope for and desire, those are still very tricky questions for me.  It is a terrifying prospect to hope for something anymore.  Almost as terrifying as having no hope at all.  I have also realized that within me lies a predisposition to assume that if I desire something, God probably has other plans.  Which leads to an absurd game of trying to use reverse psychology of a sort on God - "if I don't really want to get married, then maybe I'll meet the right guy ... wait, don't think that last part ..."  Truly absurd.  God did wait until I had absolutely turned my back on marriage and had wholeheartedly embraced a life of singleness before informing me that He had other plans.  Much, much, much more and better plans, and we will celebrate five years of marriage in June. 

I must also remember the lampposts along the way during this dark night of the soul, and there have been many rays of light.  Empathy from the unlikeliest of places, support and friendship from acquaintances, friends and family, random acts of kindness that brought an unexpected smile ... belonging to a church where it really is okay not to be okay (just not okay to stay there).  And it must be said that while my husband has been an incredible support in dealing with cancer and MS, this shared experience of joy, followed by excruciating grief and loss, has united us in a way I never before knew was possible.  I am not okay, I have not been okay for many long months now, but I am, by the grace and mercy of God and the patient understanding of my husband, getting better.

Time Stand Still

It's July already?  For real, though??  And before I blink my eyes we will be into August already ... it does seem an inescapable aspect of getting older, no matter how gracefully you do it, that the passage of time seems to move at supersonic speeds and we find ourselves saying phrases like, "Was that REALLY a year ago?" or "We've been married FOUR YEARS ALREADY?"  That last one is actually a statement expressing excitement and thankfulness on my part, just to be clear (though I shall not presume to speak for my husband :) 

So I missed the month of June, from a blogging perspective, but my beloved and I did celebrate four years of marriage (just the beginning!); Father's Day with my daddy who is precious to me - I love opportunities to honor him for being such a good father; and reluctantly, it must be said, my birthday that took me yet another step closer to the looming BIG 40.   

The end of June marked two years since I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  What the future holds for me, for my husband, whether we will be able to have a family, I do not even pretend to know.  The other day, I had an unexpected conversation with a lovely lady who told me that her husband has been living with MS for almost 40 years - he is now in a wheelchair and has been declared legally blind.  Have thoughts of that happening to me crossed my mind?  Yep.  She asked me, very matter-of-factly, "Do you ever wonder, 'Why me?'", telling me that she has wrestled often with that very question when she looks at her husband.  My honest answer in response was simply, "No."  I told her that from the time I was diagnosed until now, my thought has always been, "Why not me?"  If Jesus could step into time and onto this mortal earth in its fallen, broken state and submit himself willingly to his Father's will, go to a horrific death by the infamous Roman torture device of crucifixion to be slain for my sins, how could I possibly complain about having MS, cancer, or anything at all?

Has it been a struggle?  Absolutely.  Does it grieve my heart to know the burden it places on my husband?  Without a doubt.  Do I know, barring a miracle cure or a new heavenly body, that this body will continue to deteriorate in ways that I simply have no control over?  Certainly.  What simply takes my breath away is that when Jesus hung on the cross for six hours, bleeding, suffocating, dehydrated beyond imagination, gasping for air as he pushed himself up on the nails driven through his feet, he CHOSE to take all my sins and provide the restitution that I could never achieve on my own.  Nearly 2,000 years before I was even conceived, he chose to be the sacrifice for me, knowing that I would sin against him - the perfect and holy God of the universe - and yet loving me so much that he offered me a way to be reconciled to my Heavenly Father.  I really can't get over it (and hope and pray that I never do) - though I had not yet sinned, being not yet born, he paid it all ... my past, present and future sins.  What astounding love, what breathtaking mercy and such amazing grace.

So I do "boast" in my weakness, insomuch as it brings glory to God - and continue to be humbled that he trusts me to point to his strength at work in me, his joy magnified in me, and his transforming work in my heart that allows me to grow more and more into the image of Christ.  And there is joy - oh, so much joy.  Not to be confused with happiness, as joy and happiness are not synonymous terms.  There is happiness too ... laughing with my husband, sharing our hopes and dreams for the future, finding pleasure in the things that we were created to enjoy.  There are also "dark nights of the soul."  Will I ever experience the joy of motherhood is a question that can easily push me into one of those dark nights.  But always, always, there is joy in all circumstances.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.   

~Hebrews 12:1-3

It is my prayer that, as time marches on and the earth keeps spinning on its axis, we who live in this fallen world with all its discouragement, happiness, disappointment, treasured moments, betrayal, friendship, anger, forgiveness, hate and love, will take hold of the joy set before us - with Jesus as our source and our example - and never, ever let go.

Playing in the dirt.

Otherwise known as gardening, for those plant-whisperers blessed with a green thumb.  I am not one of them.  My thumb is decidedly the blackest of black.  We were able to take a couple of plants home last night for being table hosts at the Annual Miracle Hill Ministries banquet, and my sweet husband even remarked that the plants would surely die.  WELL . . .all I have to say to that is, GAME ON.  And so, in an effort to prove him wrong (not really), I spent the morning planting a gorgeous red plant with really pretty flowers and a lovely yellow flower plant.  Don't ask me what the names are.  In the process, I remembered why I loathe gardening.  Besides the fact that I am now covered in ant bites, planting the beautiful flowers made me notice all the weeds in the mulch bed and in our lawn.  Being me (read that: slightly OCD), I started digging up weeds and very soon had a nice layer of dirt, mulch and, let's not forget, ant bites . . . those little buggers are vicious!!  All in all, it was so much easier to plant the beautiful flowers than it was to dig up/tug at/yell at those stubborn weeds.

Although I will probably never enjoy gardening - and we shall see whether the new plants "surely die" or live to bloom another season or two - it does always remind me of my own internal garden, so to speak.  God is so gracious with his gifts to me . . . and while I am so thankful for and admire the beauty of them, there are far too many weeds in my heart.  To think that God is willing to get dirty and calloused in order to dig out the weeds takes my breath away.  Some weeds are fairly easy, of course, and their roots come up with a good tug.  But others, whose roots go so deep and seem to stretch endlessly, require hard toil - the kind that leave you with blisters on your hand and an aching back.

It's interesting that God's Word to us essentially starts in a garden - with no weeds!  Literally and spiritually.  Ahhhh, if only our lawn was like that.  The word garden appears in at least 21 books of the Bible - my favorites are the references in the Song of Solomon and Isaiah 58:11.  Also interesting is the fact that Jesus spent his last hours praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, at the foot of the Mount of Olives, before he was betrayed and handed over to be judged and murdered as an innocent sacrifice for us.

He knew it was his last night, and he chose to spend it in one of his favorite places, the garden, talking to his Father.  The ultimate act of gardening was done that night by this innocent, blameless God-man in willingly submitting himself to death for the sake of a desperately lost world.  In the English Standard Version (ESV), there is no mention of the word garden after the first four books of the New Testament. Why?  Maybe Paul, Peter, John and the other writers of the NT disliked gardening as much as I do.  Then again, Jesus is very much in the business of weeding, pruning and planting today for those who follow him.

He is the ultimate Gardener.  I am so grateful he never gives up on me, no matter how thick and pervasive the weed-infestation.  

The Value of a Well-Placed Comma.

It is probably a mental illness, this constant need/desire to correct grammar and punctuation.  And for those instances (many, I'm sure) where I fall short in this area, feel free to correct my misspellings, etc.  Must practice what I preach.  And with that introduction, segue to the fact that there are most definitely two distinct groups of people in the world:  Group A writes using sparse, if any, commas, while Group B uses commas intentionally - to emphasize, pause, set apart, highlight a certain phrase and/or to follow grammatical protocol.  While I am obviously an unapologetic groupie of the second category, as my dear friend and author John Aubrey Anderson said, "I'm very legalistic about grace" -- so no judgment here if you're a Group A type.

Do grammar and punctuation - the order and structure of words - have any application beyond being critical of one's writing?  I happen to believe they do.

In COMMAS: The Biggest Little Quirks in the English Language, Andy Gramlich offers some interesting history on the evolution of written language, and both extolls the virtues of the indomitable comma while simultaneously warning against misuse/overuse.  "The earliest known examples of actual writing are Sumerian logographs from about 4000 BC. These were simple pictures of objects and symbols representing quantities and time periods. (For tax records!) About 2000 BC, the Phoenicians developed a system of symbols to represent the spoken language, the first alphabet. This alphabet consisted entirely of capitalized consonants and there was no punctuation or even spaces between the words. This sentence would have looked like this: THSSNTNCWLDHVLKDLKTHS Try and sound that out." 

"The Greeks added vowels to the alphabet about 1000 BC, making the words much more clear. Although they still had no punctuation or word spacing, this is basically the system we use today and is considered to be one of humanity's greatest achievements. The Greeks also brought punctuation along about 200 BC, and upper and lower case letters around 700 AD. . . . Word spacing and punctuation certainly have made enormous progress in the understanding of the written language but confusion has also proliferated as more complex ideas could now be written and many people underestimate the power of the lowly comma in altering the meaning of written sentences."  AHA . . . validation.  Of a sort. 

Alas, Andy goes on, seemingly endlessly, infinitely, boundlessly, pervasively and thoroughly to warn of the perils of careless, ubiquitous, ambiguous, pervasive, copious, lackadaisical or cursory comma usage.  Thankfully, he does offer a few rays of hope to thesaurus-wielding comma-lovers like me:

"[B]efore you dispense with commas altogether, however, remember that commas are required for clarity. This need for clarity is especially necessary in legal documents such as warranties. Consider the plight of the high-rise building owner with a broken elevator. The elevator warranty read: 'This company shall repair or replace worm and gear bearings and housings.' It was the worm and gear that wore out, not their bearings or housings. His attorney ruefully explained that he should have signed a contract that read: 'This company will repair or replace worm and gear, bearings and housings' (Romm, 1984). The owner was responsible for thousands of dollars in repair costs plus attorney's fees, all because of a missing little comma."  Yikes.  Well ... it seems at least I can blame my comma-obsession on my lawyer background. 

To answer my earlier question, YES.  Absolutely, yes.  Structure, order, design - whether in the universe, in scientific laws and principles, in the human body, or in language - not only point unmistakeably to the Creator of all things, but also have application in that they can help us better understand that which has been created.  

Today is Saturday.  The world is paused, waiting for the completion of the sentence.  Today is the comma between the day Jesus was crucified and surrendered his spirit in the most magnificent and incredible rescue attempt in human history, and the day he rose from the grave, defeating death and sin for all time -- with a hearty kicking-in of Satan's teeth in the process.  Friday happened, but Sunday's coming.

Good Friday Musings & a little randomness on the side

A while back, some dear friends from church recommended the book Love & War by John and Stasi Eldredge, and we took them up on their suggestion.

Well, actually, I bought the book - it's like an OCD thing, buying books - and read the prologue to my husband - though I'm not sure getting choked up or bursting into sobs every other paragraph counts as "reading".  It didn't for him, and from that point on my husband assumed READING OF THE BOOK duties.  Now truth be told, I do have a few stubborn obsessive-compulsive streaks . . . which reared their ugly heads several times while the love of my life was graciously reading to me - lack of inflection, leaving out words, mispronunciation, etc., all irritated me.  At several points, I do believe that in His kindness, God smacked me over the head hard enough for me to realize that my husband and I were reading together, growing together, spending quality time together, and he was doing this for me.  This timeless reiteration of the fact that IT'S NOT ABOUT ME helped tremendously with, well, getting over myself.

The experience of reading Love & War together was priceless **random thought #1: I find it ironical that Visa commercials have managed to decrease the value of that word** and the book itself was pretty amazing.  We both want to read it again, but we gave it to my sister and her husband for their first anniversary.  Since my brother-in-law told me it was in their "stack of books to read," does that put the code of Indian Giving Rules & Regulations into immediate effect, entitling me to surreptiously retrieve the book on our next visit to Kentucky?  I only jest. Truly, hope they enjoy it as much as we did.  Plus, it will be my husband who steals it back.  Just kidding, guys, really! ... or am I??

Random thought #2:  recently I cut out a coupon (quite proud of myself for that), saw that liquid fabric softener was on sale, actually remembered that I had a coupon for fabric softener ... and we all know that coupon plus sale means it's like you're really getting money back instead of paying for it (working hard on eliminating THAT logic from my brain).  Long story longer, I bought the fabric softener.  Upon reflection, I realized it was the first time I had ever used liquid fabric softener.  Upon further reflection - every time I smell my clothes, to be exact (it sounds weird, but I assure you it's not) - I have decided that henceforth, I shall always use liquid fabric softener if possible.  It really IS like a breath of fresh, spring air.

So, having enjoyed our first "reading together" experience, we have recently embarked on Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas.  This time my darling is even letting me read some of the chapters (or one of the chapters, that is; we're only on Chapter 3).  Very excited by this.  Even more excited when he doesn't fall asleep as I am reading.  In Chapter 2, the author recounts an old rabbinical story about how the spot for God's holy temple was chosen.  Random thought #3:  Chapter 2 was read with superb inflection, impeccable grammar and pronunciation to an enthusiastic audience and wild applause.  Okay, that didn't happen.  But for my part, at least, I really liked the story:

"Two brothers worked a common field and a common mill.  Each night they divided whatever grain they had produced and each took his portion home.  One brother was single and one was married with a large family.  The single brother decided that his married brother, with all those kids, certainly needed more gain than he did, so at night he secretly crept over to his brother's granary and gave him an extra portion.  The married brother realized that his single brother didn't have any children to care for him in his old age.  Concerned about his brother's future, he got up each night and secretly deposited some grain in his single brother's granary.  One night they met halfway between the two granaries, and each brother realized what the other was doing.  They embraced, and as the story goes, God witnessed what happened and said, 'This is a holy place - a place of love - and it is here that my temple shall be built.'"

The author goes on to say "The holy place is that spot where God is made known to his people, 'the place where human beings discover each other in love.'"  The second chapter starts out with a quote from Katherine Ann Porter: "[Marriage] is the merciless revealer, the great white searchlight turned on the darkest places of human nature."  Pretty sure my husband gave a verbal "Amen!" when I read that. 

Random thought #4:  Don't you just love driving a different route than the everyday, normal one, especially if it takes you on a road you've never been on before?  Going to a home visit last week from the office rather than my home, I ended up on an expanse of highway I had never previously traveled.  The 20-something miles on that road were some of the most beautiful I've seen since moving to the sovereign state of South Carolina (Random thought #5:  SERIOUSLY!! It never rejoined the Union after the Civil War).

So what if our marriage - or future marriage, for those who are single - reflected our "ministry of reconciliation" that Paul sets forth in II Corinthians 5:18?  How about the reverse - what if our marriage contradicts this message and ministry?  Gary Thomas writes that when the latter occurs, "I have sabotaged the goal of my life:  to be pleasing to Christ and to faithfully fulfill the ministry of reconciliation . . . If my 'driving force' is as Paul says it should be, I will work to construct a marriage that enhances this ministry of reconciliation -- a marriage that, in fact, incarnates this truth by putting flesh on it, building a relationship that models forgiveness, selfless love, and sacrifice."

Sacred Romance is markedly different in tone than Love & War.  But I am excited to see where this road that I've never traveled before leads.  And the road after that, and the road after that ... Disclaimer of sappiness:  It is so much better traveling the road together with the man I committed to love and respect for a lifetime.  Not always easy, but better.

Random thought #[whatever]:  My pastor just tweeted that he ordered a grande (aka medium) coffee at the Starbucks in Clemson and they gave him a Venti (aka incredibly freakin' large cup).  And I quote, "FINISHED IT!! Now I'm JACKED UP on caffeine!"  Oh dear.  Note to self:  pray for tonight's Easter service, and pray that Perry doesn't bounce off the stage.

Oh, Eve . . .

First of all, I must confess that more than once I have uttered words blaming Adam and Eve for their poor choice that landed us in this mess.

In doing the Bible in a year plan on YouVersion -- awesome resource, by the way . . . can be downloaded to your phone as well with all kinds of different reading plans -- I am currently in the midst of Leviticus and all the laws pertaining to ordination of the priests and sacrifices. One might say that I'm knee deep in blood and guts, along with a few other things. And one would be right, figuratively speaking. For whatever reason -- perhaps the fact that I don't eat red meat and/or the fact that I have never been a farmer, with the exception of our one year stint living out in the county ... which was pretty much limited to waking up and finding a cow in our front yard and getting highly annoyed with the neighboring rooster's broken alarm clock (3 pm crowing, really??)-- I am having a hard time stomaching some of the more graphic details. Kind of like when my husband tries to sneak the giblets into the stuffing at Thanksgiving (and for those of you who think that's normal, stop it!! I beg you.). Or the time when my sister and I were young and our mom decided to serve liver for dinner, disguised as "beef nuggets." Ah, the stomach turns just thinking about it. Quite frankly, it is a relief to move on to the New Testament and Psalms. And drink my marvelously-red-meat-free Vanilla Chai soy protein drink.

Which I think is the point (moving on to New Testament, that is, not my drink). Adam and Eve did live in perfection - no sin, no death, no blood and guts, clothing-challenged, and in direct fellowship with God, who walked with them in the garden. And they screwed up.  MAJORLY.  It is always easy to point fingers and blame the first couple for the world's ills, until I wonder if I would have chosen any differently. Hindsight is an awesome thing, and also provides many of us ample ammunition to attack others' decisions and choices. I'm quite relieved that God has no need of hindsight; rather, in His foresight/wisdom/omniscience/mercy, God provided a path back to the garden of perfection. The path is messy and bloody and difficult and painful, because we are still walking in this world. But ALL of the Bible points to Jesus, who loved us enough to become our bloody sacrifice once and for all, and who loves us so much that he will walk the road with us to the end.

And the end is not the end, but the beginning of things restored - a new heaven and a new earth. I do so love grand, epic stories, and being one character woven into the tapestry of THE grand, epic story ... well, it's actually incomprehensible. Whether viewed in hindsight, foresight, or now sight, GRACE is AMAZING.

Walk while you have the light.

I used to labor under the impression that walking into walls, cars, doors...basically anything and everything...was normal. At least for me. Two years ago this June, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which helped to explain a lot regarding my lack of balance, dizziness, etc. (or it may be that the walking into walls is just a product of my natural grace). My neurologist told me to be very careful about walking in the dark - he said it would disorient me and throw off my balance even more than "normal."

Today is Palm Sunday, and I am still wearing the red Hosanna bracelet that was given out at church months ago (and not to digress, but yes, I do clean it). I'm a little embarrassed at my ignorance up to that point, not knowing the actual Greek meaning of the word "hosanna." Growing up in church, I thought it an exclamation of praise only, inextricably linked with Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem the week before his crucifixon ... the Sunday that has become known by many as Palm Sunday. So I was surprised, and grateful (it's always better to have the correct knowledge - I'm funny that way) to learn that "hosanna" is based on a Greek word of the New Testament derived from a combination of two Hebrew words of the Old Testament, pronounced yaw-shah. It means means to save or deliver. The other word is naw, meaning pray. Or, as John Piper has stated:

"[I]f you look in a Greek dictionary to find what it means, you know what you find? You find that it is really not originally a Greek word after all. The men who wrote the New Testament in Greek ... just used Greek letters to make the sound of a Hebrew phrase. ... Our English word 'hosanna' comes from a Greek word 'hosanna' which comes from a Hebrew phrase hoshiya na. And that Hebrew phrase is found one solitary place in the whole Old Testament, Psalm 118:25, where it means, 'Save, please!' It is a cry to God for help. Like when somebody pushes you off the diving board before you can swim and you come up hollering: 'Help, save me . . . Hoshiya na!'

Actually, it all sounds Greek to me. Or Japanese, really. But what a thought that the people were actually crying out/praying for Jesus to save/deliver them, and that he willingly became our deliverance. I still wear my bracelet to remind me that I can't (and don't want) to do life in my own strength. The God who created the cosmos stepped into time to become a mortal man. The God who spoke the Sun, the moon, the planets and galaxies into being actually walked on this dusty, decadent earth, felt all the emotions and pain that I feel (and more), and STILL loves me and calls me to follow him, even though it was for my sake that Jesus bore that pain. He could have opted out. It always amazes me that he didn't.

Instead, Jesus told his disciples "Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him. Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven: "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." John 12:25-28 (emphasis added)

A crowd had gathered at that point, and they responded to Jesus' words with a challenge (the ESV says "the crowd answered him"). I'm going to assume from the context of this chapter that the crowd was being cheeky, ornery and/or cynical. "We have heard from the Law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?"

Jesus' response was the exact opposite of what I would have said to the cheeky buggers ... probably something along the lines of "You obviously don't care, so I'm done with you." Instead he said to them, "The light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going." John 12:34-35 Remarkably, he warned them and offered them hope.

Walking in the darkness is a dangerous exercise, physically (particularly for people who are horizontally challenged like me) and especially spiritually. Why would we fumble around in the dark, tripping over obstacles/traps in our path, when we could simply turn on the light and walk in it?

God, save us/deliver us from the darkness!