Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to me.
There is a well-known, and oft-repeated phrase from Micah that was also in this morning’s appointed readings. Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God. That has always warmed my heart. Reading it in context, it’s even better. The people are trying to make amends with God after more bad behavior. Whatever can we do, they cry. Can I give 10,000 rivers of oil? Calves a year old? My firstborn child? No. What God asks is that you do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. It’s in response to our desire to assuage our conscience with things, that God responds that we need to believe, love and act differently. Yes! Simple, but not easy.
But this morning, I was struck more by a bit that follows that powerful command. When I fall, I shall rise, when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me. This resonates deeply with me, because of falling, rising, darkness and light I’ve experienced in the past few years. It’s not that I want to fall, or be in the dark. But how wonderful to be reminded that when I fall, I will rise. And when I’m in the dark, God can be my light. Notice that it’s not that God makes the darkness go away, but rather God can be my light in the midst of the darkness.
The greatest darkness in which I sit now relates to the health, safety and happiness of my loved one with the significant brain disorder. I don’t know how that will resolve. I don’t see a graceful way out of the darkness. The disease is permanent, even if its symptoms decrease. The effects of past hospitalizations and psychoses is irreversible. The meds are dangerous, with a list of side effects that should frighten anyone. And the less-than-stellar choices my loved one is making now are risky. And having said all of that, God is with me. God is with my loved one, in that darkness.
We are in a period of relative stability and normalcy and it’s wonderful to see glimpses of the person pre-disease. And we know there will be subsequent crises and hospitalizations; it’s the nature of the disease. But at this moment, it feels like I have risen from the last fall, and the darkness isn’t that dark.
In all our lives, there are periods of rising, falling, darkness and light. To hold on to the image that when I fall, I will rise, and that when it’s dark, God will be my light is deeply comforting because those harder times will come. Holding on to the knowledge of God’s presence and persistence in my life is just what I need. This morning, I’m thinking about falling, rising, darkness and light.
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