Hold the Light

It was a typical Saturday evening. Bill had cut the grass, showered, grabbed a cold beer, and started the grill. Soon, he was filling his neighborhood with the mouth-watering aromas of thick-cut ribeyes. Then a phone call shattered any semblance of a typical evening. A single sentence severed Bill’s soul and stole his future. She was gone.

Focusing on a funeral was like navigating fog. He moved forward without any real sense of direction. Somehow, beyond reason, he felt numb, angry, broken, distraught, and lost – seemingly at the same time.

In the weeks that followed, the fog seemed to clear for everyone else. At times, the memories seem to hypnotize him, robbing him of any real awareness of his current surroundings. He would lose time, conversations, and even spatial awareness as his mind wandered into unfinished plans and the dreams that would never be fulfilled.

Before long, Bill found himself in a bottomless pit. Two questions shackled his heart to this massive weight that seemed to be hurtling, with him in tow, into the abyss. One question was a single word: Why? The other started with two words: What if…? He tortured himself with these two questions. Finding answers was like holding water in his palms. As the overwhelming guilt would slip through his fingers, his empty hands would fill with despair, anger, then helplessness.

When I met Bill, he was surrounded by life and love. But he couldn’t see either. He had pulled away from his friends and family. His sense of hopelessness and worthlessness had eroded his capacity to embrace his kids and grandkids. His wound was deep and his pain blinding. He blamed himself, others, and God. He had grown bitter. His loss had truly stolen his life. His love and respect for God had spiraled into blame and doubt.

Bill was walking through the dark valley of the shadow of death alone. Though the tiniest flicker of hope prompted an almost inaudible invitation to walk with him. He needed someone to hold a light for him.

With the help of another, he soon realized that rather than being shackled to a weight hurtling into the abyss he was clinching it with his unanswerable questions. He could let the weight go without betraying the love of his life.

He discovered that his need to find fault had hung the unbearable burden of an accident around his neck and left him emotionally immobile. The irreversible loss left him feeling like a victim – with no responsibility for his current state or his recovery. He was trapped in this irrational cycle of being both guilty and victim.

In time, Bill opened his heart to the Word of God and could hear God’s message of forgiveness and overcoming. Then the light flooded into the darkest recesses of his heart. His identity changed from victim to survivor. He learned to give his full attention to whoever and whatever was around him. He also began to trust Jesus with a future that, while different from what he had expected, was full of life and love. Through unimaginable pain and loss, Bill became a new man. He became a dad and granddad again. He learned to smile again.

I haven’t seen Bill in years until recently. This time, with a tear in his eye and a look of compassion on his face, it was Bill guiding someone else along the path through the valley of the shadow of death. This friend, once lost in darkness, is now holding the light for someone else.

Grace & Peace,

John