Light in the Darkness

The moonrise was fantastic here last nite. We made an extra trip yesterday, to pick up parts and a few things at the drugstore in Burns. That is the closest town to us, and is only 110 miles away, but it took nearly 3 hours to get there because of all the snow. We left in the morning and got back just after the sun went down.

We turned on the news, listening to stories of flooding, and economic meltdowns, bad legislation being passed and a myriad of other things that bring despair to even the most cheerful heart. I wondered if there is any such thing as good news.

Being the lunar eclipse and winter solstice, I decided to stay up and see the event, as I understand it won’t happen again for another 350 years, and I will probably be busy. With all the snow we have, it was as bright as daylight outside, from the moons reflection. At the appointed time, I saw a small dark spot on the bottom edge suddenly appear. It was only 20 degrees outside, so I kept running in and out to check. I tried to take pictures, but with no lens filter, the camera just couldn’t do it. Too bad about that.

 Each time I looked, a little more of the moon was covered in blood-red. Every time I ventured outside, the world around me grew darker, as the entity that had cast so much light on us was slowly covered in blood red shadow. The last time I stepped out, it was eerily dark outside and the dogs began to bark, an owl began hooting and I could hear coyotes wailing not far in the distance. All the elements of a horror show were present and being a big chicken, I began to shiver more from the spookiness than the cold. I had gone out in the front of our little house, so I was alone with no dogs for company or comfort. Looking at the blood-red moon, surrounded by a discomforting blackness, I thought of another time the world went dark.

I have read all the accounts of the crucifixion and how for 3 hours, the world went dark. It seems such a perfect punctuation mark to the illustration of how dark our hearts can be. I felt a wave of conflicting emotions roll over me. Fear of the evil in the world, the inability to save myself, or undo the wrong things I have done in my life, a heavily burdened heart that my actions caused suffering for the One who came to rescue me, brought first tears of regret, then of gratitude and eventually just plain old joy. 

It is all going to end well. The story is already written and death does not win in the end. Not His death, and not mine. The end of this life, will be the beginning of the best yet. Taking that into consideration, there isn't much to be afraid of.

This week we will celebrate God manifesting His love for us in flesh, coming to be with us, so we could be with Him.

There IS such a thing as good news, after all.