night

maybe.

maybe-2.jpg

Maybe. by Mark Waltz

Trashed, torn. Wildly tossed.
A paper boat fighting to float on a river of rage.

Uncertain. Hoping. Defeated.

Groping, grasping. Tightening grip.
A child watching his balloon ripped violently away.

Clinching. Wishing. Disheartened.

Stumbling, sprawling. Footing strained.
A threatening mountain mudslide after angry deluge.

Weak. Pulling. Dropping.

Looking, longing. Vision lost.
Searching ominous, black sky. Night watching for light of dawn.

Longing. Believing. Depressed.

What if.
This reckless amble has charted a course far from a place that’s no longer home?

What if.
This relentless grip has been a strangle hold on something begging for release?

What if.
This clumsy crash has been the only possible way to find the ground beneath?

What if.
This search for light has been driven by fear of what the night holds – that isn’t there?

Maybe.
Buoyant waters will give passage to open sea, peacefully home, now and always.

Maybe.
Whispering winds will loosen this firm grasp, lifting weakened wings, soaring high above.

Maybe.
The thick mountain mud will grow sanguine seed, promise of new blooms and blossoms of life.

Maybe.
Dark skies will be the backdrop for the bold stars that will illuminate my journey.

What's So Good about the Dark?

The writer of Hebrews penned a passage that long ago became known as the “faith chapter” or the “hall of faith.” Chapter 11 begins this way: 

Faith is the assurance of what we hope for, the evidence of things not seen.

Put another way: Faith is the “sureness” of what we hope for…to be certain of things we cannot see. 

This verse seems to paint a picture of what it is to walk in the dark. Faith isn’t required in the light of day, when all is visible. Those “things we cannot see” are not merely out of sight, but rather...