"In the Darkness" by Heidi Avery

When my husband travels for work my feeling of safety promptly packs its bags and goes right along with him. Nighttime thrusts me into the wanting arms of despair where I find myself acutely aware of my alone-ness and in complete fear of the darkness.

Did you know that the amount of time that passes from the moment the bottom of the sun kisses the horizon until the top of the sun bids its daytime farewell is less than 5 short minutes? It is in that time that I am awakened to the opportunities for elusively lurking evil, lingering and waiting in the hidden corners made available by the moon-lit night.

I shrink in the darkness.

When the kids are tucked away in their beds, the TV is off and the lights are out I can not keep from foreboding what trouble may lie ahead in the coming hours of the night. The quiet of my room is faithfully interrupted by distant, yet eerily close sounds from unknown origins. As my eyes adjust from pitch black to subtle shades of grays I can not avoid the mysterious movement of shadows dancing randomly, yet methodically against the crevices of my bedroom windows and walls. My heart pounds loudly and painfully at my chest as if to escape me in an effort to avoid the on-coming thoughts of the source behind the dancing shadows.

I expect evil in the darkness.

My mind enters the threshold of dark spiritual and worldly possibilities and it sometimes stays there a bit too long. However, the Holy Spirit, even more faithful than the rising and setting sun, ushers my mind into a super-natural light, fueled by truth that comforts my shaken soul. It sweetly plays the song of Psalm 23:4 on my heart “Yes, though I walk through the [deep, sunless] valley of the shadow of death, I will fear or dread no evil, for You are with me; Your rod [to protect] and Your staff [to guide], they comfort me.”

I find Him in the darkness.

Conviction overtakes me as I recall the demon-possessed boy’s father in Mark 9. I am like that father, in my fear asking Jesus to have mercy on me and to help me if He can. He questions me in this desperate moment… “if I can?” He reminds me… “Anything is possible for him who believes!” And I cry out just like that father… again and again… “I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief!”

Though dark valleys do call, at night or by passing trial,

I sense your protection, your comfort and your presence with me all the while.

Satan’s fortune is that my distress would deplete and devour me, But my anguish elicits Your being and evil claims no victory.

I trust you my Father, I beg you… increase my faith,

I do believe, you know my heart, cure me, no… save me from my unbelief!