Out of Love I Will Not Go

“To show forth the praises of Him who has called us out of darkness and into His marvelous light.” – 1 Peter 2:9

I have taken a number of journeys in the dark.

Whether it be an evening walk, leading a group of campers on a hike through the woods, or driving a twisting forest road on a rainy night, there is a tangible difference between journeys of the day and night. Light makes all of the difference in the world. Our world seems to be becoming a darker and more dangerous place by the day, but thankfully, we don’t have to walk the dim ways of this world alone. We have been handed a light, the Light of the World, to see us through the unavoidable dark.

In the Lord of the Rings, as Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee knowingly wend their way towards peril and probable death, they are taken by their treacherous guide, Gollum, through the lair of a monstrous spider the size of a house who intends to kill and eat them. In the darkness and despair of that place, Frodo recalls something he had forgotten about in the past weeks of journeying. The Light of Earendil’s star, given to him by the Lady Galadriel, is perhaps the only thing that can drive away the spider. He had forgotten all about this vial of welling, glorious light, the thing kept closest to his heart (there’s some sort of lesson there, I’m sure.) He remembers it just in time, and its burning brightness in that foul cave does, indeed, drive away the enemy. 

If you step into a dark room, you don’t waste time trying to grapple with the darkness. You turn on the light. 

In Prince Caspian, the great lion, Aslan, comes to Lucy in the woods in the middle of the night and tells her to rouse her siblings from their sleep and follow him. They will not, he tells her, be able to see him like she can, at least not at first. She obeys under protest, and her siblings agree to come with her after much arguing (how thoroughly sibling-like of those kings and queens!) They are led on a journey through the dark, gradually becoming able to see their guide ahead of them as they choose to trust the way he is leading them. Their eyes are opened, one by one, because they obeyed and followed. In the end, they all see Aslan.

In another book I love by C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce, a group of ghosts on a bus are given a chance to visit heaven. In the end, sadly, only one of them chooses to stay. One of those who chooses not to stay has come to beg and, quite frankly, whine to his wife, Sarah Smith of Golders Green, to come back to be with him. She was a nobody while on earth, but her grandeur in heaven is unspeakable. She looks at her husband with gentle eyes and tells him quietly, “I am in love, and out of love I will not go.” Nothing can induce her to leave the haven of love that she has found.

We have been placed in a world that is undeniably dark and dangerous, and I am learning that dark nights of the soul come to all of us. But we have also been offered the opportunity to step into the light of love. “If we walk in the Light, as he is in the light…” (1 John 1:7) …we never have to fear again. We will not be reduced to stumbling in blindness and despair, to wandering the shadowlands of the world alone. Perfect love casts out fear, and we never again have to step out the circle of light cast by the radiance of love. 

I grew up reading a child’s version of the Pilgrim’s Progress. As Christian walks through the valley of the shadow of death, he can hear the screams and torment of people in the valley on either side of the narrow path. He shudders, but he continues on, because he knows going forward is the only way through to the celestial city. You can choose the dark instead of the narrow road. It beckons to all of us, in various ways, and it longs to pull us down and in. But it will be cold, and horribly lonely, and send shivers rattling through your heart.

There is a King who longs to draw you out of it with cords of lovingkindness and lead you further up and further in, headed ever homeward with your feet set firmly on the path of rejoicing. Learn to listen for his call and to see him, as Lucy did, when the shadows try to engulf him. He will slow his stride to match yours, he will wait for you if you ask him to. He has trod the darkness before, alone, so that we don’t ever have to be left behind in the blackness of night again. He has walked through the midst of fire and death to make a way for us. He offers us freely the sure hand of love, the gift of grace, illuminating light to lead us home. How kind He is. How sufficient, how patient, how altogether good is our King.

Be Still, my soul, thy best, thy heavenly friend

Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end