Word #8 - Darkness

I'm so totally cheating a bit, but I'm ok with that.  I know I put the word darkness in the jar. And I've been writing like a mad woman the past few day.  Between class, sermon, paperwork for school, etc - my fingers have been busy on the keys. 

So, for darkness, I'm posting my sermon from this past Sunday.  Please note that how I write my sermon is how I try to read it, and while it looks like a manuscript, I am human and leave the path quite often.  I hope you enjoy and someday soon I'll figure out how to get the vocals on here as well.  

Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me

A reading from Genesis 15:1-12

 After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” ² But Abram said, “O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?”^[a] 3 And Abram said, “You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir.” ⁴ But the word of the Lord came to him, “This man shall NOT be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir.” ⁵ He brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” ⁶ And he believed the Lord; and the Lord^[b] reckoned it to him as righteousness.

⁷ Then he said to him, “I am the Lord who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans, to give you this land to possess.” ⁸ But he said, “O Lord God, how am I to know that I shall possess it?” ⁹ He said to him, “Bring me a heifer three years old, a female goat three years old, a ram three years old, a turtledove, and a young pigeon.” ¹⁰ He brought him all these and cut them in two, laying each half over against the other; but he did not cut the birds in two. ¹¹ And when birds of prey came down on the carcasses, Abram drove them away.

¹² As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him. 

And continuing in Verse 17…

¹⁷ When the sun had gone down and it was dark, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between these pieces. ¹⁸ On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates, ¹⁹ the land of the Kenites, the Kenizzites, the Kadmonites, ²⁰ the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Rephaim, ²¹ the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Girgashites, and the Jebusites.”

Our lectionary text this morning seems a bit different.  Not different in a bad way, just different.  Maybe a bit unusual.   In my first reading of the text, some initial themes I found included promises, doubt, gifts, legacy, assurance, belief, and sacrifice- literally animals being sacrificed.  

This text is the story of Abram’s call.  The given title for this text, “God’s Covenant with Abram”, gives us a hint of about what is going on.  It’s only three chapters after Abraham’s initial call and in this part of the story, we hear from Abraham something a little familiar among those who experience an “encounter with the holy” - -an objection, along with some whining and complaining too. 

There have been many people who having been called by God have come up with some form of objection but here Abram isn’t objecting to God’s will in the sense of his own anxieties about being able to do what God asks of him, he is asking God the question that I know many of us might have experienced, “What’s in it for me?” 

And then, there’s the darkness... 

There’s kind of a lot of darkness in this story.  The conversation begins with darkness; Abram being led outdoors by the word of the Lord, out into the wild darkness created by God’s own words.  

Then after the sacrifice, there is the deep and terrifying darkness.  The darkness that is unwilling.  The darkness that is unwelcomed. 

And finally when we pick back up in verse 17, the sun has set it is made dark on the earth again.

All these forms of darkness created by God yet bringing something different to our story here with Abram. 

What does darkness mean to you? 

The gamut of darkness runs on a pretty large spectrum.  I think I most can relate to the terrifying darkness that comes upon Abram.  I think back to childhood games of “Hide and Seek” and how much I really detested that game.  Those of you familiar with the game might remember: you go off ALONE, and hide, ALONE, normally in an obscure place so you don’t get found.  The one person who is “it” counts to a number while others are hiding ALONE and then the person who is “it” goes ALONE to try and find those hiding,  and the “it” person has to be sneaky about their finding the hiders.

 I was one of those kids who considered both the hider and the seeker as awful jobs and was torn between which was worse: hiding by oneself waiting to be surprised or walking around by myself willingly (and anxiously) being surprised by hiders. 

As you can tell, the ALONE was part of the darkness for me.

 For whatever reason, we had a babysitter who would play this game with my sister, brother and I with a twist – all the lights were turned off.  For me, it truly was a deep and terrifying darkness experience.  I normally ended up ruining the game by going into the hallway bathroom and turning the light on, thus disturbing the darkness in majority of the house.  I was the child who wanted to be found, willingly singing wherever I was hiding to stave off the “darkness”.  I wanted to be in the light.  I wanted to be in company.

The definition for darkness is lack of light.   Synonyms for the word darkness include clouded, crepuscular, dim, dull, dusky, faint, foggy, gloomy, murky, nebulous,  opaque,  rayless, shaded,  unlighted, unlit, vague

These are not the most cheerful sounding of words for something that is a part of God’s creation. 

This “deep and terrifying” darkness isn’t just limited to the physical nature of creation.  If we think of darkness as the unknown, it can take the shape of many things.

Darkness is pain – darkness is uncomfortable.  Darkness is the unknown.  This darkness allows for things to go “bump in the night”.  This darkness is foreign and strange and not welcomed at all. 

Darkness is the inability to see beyond.  Here Abram is in darkness; he is being called by his God, the same God who has claimed Abram, the same God who has given Abram a promise of children yet he and his wife remain childless.  Abram is blinded to the promises God has made.  Abram is unsure of what lurks ahead for him and is seeking reassurance, seeking for some relief from his anxieties. Abram is alone in his deep and terrifying darkness and one could imagine him saying to God, “don’t let the sun go down on me.  God, don’t take away what you bring into my life.”

 This darkness for Abram is an unfulfilled promise that has evidence preventing it from being fulfilled.  

This darkness prevents Abram from seeing what God has in store for our lives. 

I’m sure a few of us could relate to feeling anxious.  I’m sure a few of us could relate to feeling “left alone in the dark”.  I bet there are even some of us are seeking for some light to be shed in our lives; maybe seeking some reassurance, guidance, and direction.

The use of “darkness” in some Biblical texts means someone who doesn’t know, someone who is missing the mark.  Darkness sometimes symbolizes death and despair, especially spiritual death.  Darkness is working through an addiction.  Darkness is going through a divorce. Darkness is used to describe the feelings of depression; the isolation, the emptiness, the “lack of” within one’s very being.   Darkness comes after a loved one dies. Darkness comes in the forms of lies. 

Darkness is being unable to bear a child in older years.

In music, darkness is sometimes portrayed as chaotic. It’s set in a minor key, it’s a bit more cacophonous.  Maybe it moves faster, increases our heart rate, and creates some anxiety.  You don’t necessarily know where the music is going or how it will end.  There is suspense created within the music that carries energy of nervousness. 

But have you ever noticed a street without lights, or been on a country road where there is so much darkness surrounding are attention is focused to the light?  Our eyes are designed to be drawn to the light.  In art, darkness is the contrast to the painter’s touches of “light” colors – the dark in the painting focuses the eye on the main subject – the darkness takes the eye to the light.

Once out on a camping trip to the University of Texas’ McDonald Observatory campus out in west Texas, I learned that what I observed with my naked eye as just dark night sky   was something completely different with the aid of a telescope – the darkness was an explosion of stars.  When all we can see is darkness, light becomes of greater importance.  The prophet Isaiah says, “ The people walking in darkness have seen a great light and on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned”.  The darkness draws us closer to the light; the darkness refocuses our sight.   

 But then there is another example of darkness in the story; this isn’t the scary unknown darkness. 

Yahweh is seen bringing Abram out into the night God has created to reassure him of a promise God has made.  God is hearing Abram’s worries and fears and through God’s creation is showing him, it’s ok. As one theologian says, “God showing Abram the stars isn’t part of the argument, it’s a revelation.  There is certitude given to Abram in this dark moment, and the credit belongs to the work of God’s brooding care”.  The same God who gives the promise is the one who makes it believable.  The same God who makes stars beyond number can also make a son for this barren family. 

            If this darkness were a song, it might be played soft and lyrical with movement, as if there is an evening breeze urging us on till morning.  The tempo might be a bit slower paced, as if to mimic how our bodies slow down when we sleep. This darkness might be a lullaby or a vesper piece of music.  This darkness would have us aware of our own breath, of our smallness, of the greatness to be found out in the dark of God’s creation. 

God doesn’t bring Abram out and abandon him; God has him look up at the tiny bit of light peeking through in the night through the stars. 

Being a city girl, I love when I get the chance to really see the stars.  There’s a Presbyterian camp in Hunt, Texas called Mo-Ranch, and that is one of my most favorite places to be outside at night.  Nestled in the Texas Hill Country on the Guadalupe River, it truly feels like the middle of nowhere to me.  Similar to Montreat, Mo-Ranch hosts numerous conferences through the years, and a numerous amount of youth ones specifically in the summer. For over five years, I’ve taken Middle Schoolers out to the camp for a week where we do what you do when you go to Youth camp conferences: fun, fellowship, faith, and food.  But at the end of every night, we do vespers. 

These aren’t your typical vespers.  These take place down by the river on the tennis courts.  Even on the hottest of Texas July days, there tends to be a cool breeze blowing from the river.  All of us participants, adults and youth included, lay down and get comfortable on the tennis courts.  The courts, having been in the sun all day, are warm and almost seem to comfort weary bodies that have been busy walking, hiking, climbing, swimming, running and being in constant motion. 

Then, we are invited to be still and look up.  Looking up into the bold black sky continues to this day to take my breath away; the dark curtain above me seems endless and sprinkled with an infinite number of dazzling stars.  Without hearing the voice of God, I know God is there.

 I can’t but help think now maybe that sense of awe and wonder Abram had in looking up.  I can’t help but imagine the comfort Abram might have felt in seeing the countless twinkling stars and knowing that his God had not abandoned God’s promise.

Here we see Abram needing some encouragement; he’s telling God – don’t let that sun go down on me.  Abram has left his family, has left his home, his comfort and fortune for this call from God.  Where’s that promise of a legacy?  Is God holding up his end of the bargain?  This is not the end of Abram’s story.  This is a pivotal point in his journey and how he responds to God is what sets the new course. 

God’s response is to immerse Abram into the blackness of night and point out the multitudes of stars and say, I won’t let the sun go down on you.  You are in my care. 

Abram is then able to reconcile the unknowing, lonely, and unwilling darkness with the darkness that is marked by God’s presence.

 I like this darkness.  I like the assurance of a God that cares so much for God’s creation that there is time for rest and time for awe and time for wonder.  This is a God that enrobes the creation not only in light, but in darkness and says, “this is good”. I like a darkness that reminds me that God does not work on my time line nor in the time line of the world.  I like this darkness that reminds me that there is rest, there are glimmers of light, there is more than just the shadows.  I like this darkness that reminds me the sun going down on me brings rest and renewal and after some length of time, a new day. 

I have a quote hanging on my mirror in my room from the poet Mary Gardiner Brainard’s poem “Not Knowing”.  The poem in it's entirety is worth hearing, so listen as I read it this morning. 

“Not Knowing” by Mary Gardiner Brainard (1837–1905)

Not knowing the things that shall befall me there.—ACTS XX. 22.

I KNOW not what will befall me: God hangs a mist o’er my eyes; And thus, each step of my onward path, He makes new scenes arise, And every joy He sends to me comes like a sweet surprise. I see not a step before me as I tread on another year; But I ’ve left the past in God’s keeping,—the future His mercy shall clear, And what looks dark in the distance may brighten as I draw near. For perhaps the dreaded future is less bitter than I think; The Lord may sweeten the waters before I stoop to drink; Or, if Marah must be Marah, He will stand beside its brink. It may be He keeps waiting, for the coming of my feet, Some gift of such rare blessedness, some joy so strangely sweet, That my lips shall only tremble with the thanks they cannot speak. O restful, blissful ignorance! ’t is blessëd not to know; It keeps me still in those mighty arms which will not let me go, And lulls my weariness to rest on the bosom that loves me so. So I go on not knowing,—I would not if I might; I would rather walk in the dark with God than go alone in the light; I would rather walk with Him by faith than walk alone by sight. My heart shrinks back from trials which the future may disclose, Yet I never had sorrow but what the dear Lord chose; So I send the coming tears back with the whispered word, “He knows.

"I would rather walk in the dark with God than go alone in the light." That's what hangs on my mirror.  

It isn’t about God letting the sun go down on God’s beloved creation, on the children created in God’s own image. I see this as a reminder that there will be darkness, and being human, I will need to be reminded and encouraged, especially if I am alone in that darkness.    I’ve got a friend who believes there is a need for darkness in our lives; he says that darkness helps us measure how far we’ve come.  Maybe one day when we stumble into the light and see more of a path, we can look back and see the darkness we’ve left behind.   We need to remember we’re not ALONE in the darkness.  God’s presence is there with us, and God is working in mysterious ways that we maybe aren’t supposed to understand.