What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight . . . what is whispered proclaim from the roofs. Matthew 10:27
Our Lord is constantly taking us into the dark, that He may tell us things. Into the dark of the shadowed home, where bereavement has drawn the blinds; into the dark of the lonely, desolate life . . . into the dark of some crushing sorrow and disappointment.
Then He tells us His secrets, great and wonderful, eternal and infinite; He causes the eye which has become dazzled by the glare of the earth to behold the heavenly constellations; and the ear to detect the undertones of His voice, which is often drowned amid the tumult of earth's strident cries . . . But such revelations always imply a corresponding responsibility -- "speak in the daylight . . . what is whispered -- proclaim from the roofs. ~ F. B. Meyer
Shortly after 5 A.M. I brewed some coffee, went out to the back patio, and sat down to listen to nature's musicians tune their singular instruments. Then, as if being led by a maestro their sounds blended into a beautiful symphony.
The darkness of the west was to my left. To my right, and east, the faintest signs of a new day were appearing. Sitting quietly, I began collating some of the random thoughts of the last several days. After a few moments the disjointed memories began to align and take shape. Words similar to Meyer's, but not exactly the same -- like bereavement, lonely, crushing, and disappointment -- tried to take root in my thinking. All the while I sought after cheerful, bright, contradicting words like great, wonderful, infinite, and dazzling were to keep melancholy from gaining an advantage. Eventually God's peace prevailed, but I decided the journey to that peace was too complicated to communicate -- I would not post today.
I mowed the lawn and then got on my bike.
About an hour ago I returned from the ride, and found Sandy on the back patio, so I pulled up a lawn chair, sat down, and we began to talk. She had been journaling, praying and reading, and hearing from God on a number of things. Her conversation invited me into her Adventure. Reading a quote from F. B Meyer (the one at the beginning of the post) had been especially heartening, and she read it aloud to me.
The words became special to me, too.
As Sandy sat in brilliant sunshine relaying her encounter, it occurred to me how the brightness of the eastern sky had gained momentum and scattered the blackness of the early morning -- not a trace of night remained. Also, I remembered how I had sat in that same spot, just hours ago, as light tried to reach me -- both solar and spiritual. God had spoken, and I heard Him, yet in the darkness I had decided I would not speak. However, a brief brief quote became God's prompt. It brought me into the light -- I had to speak.
"What I told you in dark, [you must] speak in daylight."