Walking in the Darkness

Night descended on the weary wayfarer, and with it came fears of thieves without and shivers from the cold within. Thick clouds hugged the earth and blocked out the moon and stars, and so the man walked down the dusty road beneath his thoughts and the suffocating darkness. He’d been traveling for what seemed like years and had still not reached his longed for destination. He wasn’t sure how many more steps his tired feet would be able to take. And now that some evil force had obscured the pin pricks of hope to which he often looked, he feared every step might prove to be his last. As long as the stars shone overhead, even on the darkest night he was not alone. But now even they had fled from him. And with them had flitted away his last thread of confidence. This black night, a black night after all the unending miles, was not in his plans, but he could no better control the clouds than still the sun. Resignation was his lot, and to him, the feeling was akin to internal collapse.

He looked back in time and remembered the call. At least he’d thought he’d heard a call, not an audible voice, but an urging to plunge headlong into the desert and press onward and forward. There’d been no sure destination, only the impulse to begin the journey, so he had obeyed. Now, glancing once more toward a covered sky, he doubted. Perhaps he’d made a mistake.

It was then he turned and saw her walking several paces behind him—her, the light of his life, her eyes fixed on the dried and cracking dirt that crunched beneath their feet with every step, the one who had followed him into this God-forsaken wilderness and had not once complained. She was the reason he hadn’t fallen over and been covered beneath the merciless sand and dried up by the merciless sun and died long ago. She shivered, and he turned back around and continued to force one foot in front of the other.

He couldn’t bring himself to think about all she’d given up. And for what?

They were alone. But at least they were alone together.

“East,” the voice had urged him. It seemed like an eternity ago. “Up and east! And I will be with you.”

And so he’d gone, and she’d followed. And now here they were in the dark.

But they weren’t alone, were they? Not if the promise was true. The God who sees had his eye fixed on them, even as she had her eye fixed on the ground, even as he had his eye fixed on the clouds as if he could pierce them with his mere gaze. If only he could catch even a glimpse of the stars above! But though he couldn’t see the stars, God saw him, and God knew. And the man knew that there were three walking through the desert beneath night’s weighty darkness.

It didn’t feel like love. It didn’t feel close and intimate. But there was a settled feeling somewhere near the bottom of his being that it was true. That would have to suffice.

So he reached back and took her hand and squeezed a gentle squeeze, and together, the two continued their journey into the black of the night that stretched out before them like an unending ocean. Yes, perhaps the ocean of night would consume them. Or perhaps someone would descend and split the darkness for them to walk through on shining ground. Or just maybe someone would reach out and take their hands and invite them to walk upon the night’s waves. They could only wait and see. And trust that they were not alone. Not even for a footstep.

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