No Darkness

This morning I got a text message from a sweet, sweet friend. She was driving to St. Louis because after years of struggling to get pregnant, countless Hannah-esque prayers for a baby, and months of going through the process of adoption, my sweet friend and her husband were going to meet the newest member of their family . . . a little African-American baby boy who was born a little under a week ago.

God was answering a years-long prayer.

My friend and her husband scurried to get the baby's room ready. They scurried to get their lives ready. Friends were set to send out baby shower invitations. And I'm sure as my friends drove to St. Louis to start this long process of adoption, they were passing mile markers and picking baby names. I'm sure their hearts were full and ripe with dreams for the future. I'm sure it was a priceless, rich drive.

But this morning I got her text message. And it said that the adoption had come to a halt. Apparently the birth mother had changed her mind—she wasn't returning the agency's calls. And since the birth mother would most likely be leaving the hospital this morning, and taking her infant son with her, my friend and her husband were headed back home.

Babyless.

I just have no words for that kind of disappointment.

Oh Jesus, this hurts.

I have good friends who have been in similar heartbreaking situations. They have dreams . . . big, good dreams. Husbands who want to be in careers where they're using their God-given gifts, but despite years of sending out resumes and going on interviews, nothing has panned out. I have friends who have fought deadly diseases for years, living in and out of hospitals and doctor's offices, and are waiting for a breakthrough. I have single friends who have longed to be married for years but still go to bed every night alone . . . and lonely.

I have from-the-core-of-my-heart requests that have gone unanswered too. There's no telling how many hours Jesus and I have talked about them, or how many urgent tears I've cried along the journey. The aching and the longing and the struggle . . . well, it's hard.

And after a while, it can seem like God has turned away. Or forgotten us altogether.

The last few months, I've been recovering from a pretty confusing round of life, where things haven't panned out like I wanted them to. But in the midst of that, God has brought my attention to a specific verse. And in my saddest moments, the truth of this verse rattles around in my heart like a defense against the despair that is threatening to move in. It's this: "God is light; in him there is no darkness at all." First John 1:5.

John is telling us a simple, yet profound truth about who our God is. "God is light," he says. God is illuminating, warm, bright, hopeful, good. He is the Source of life and the Source of all good things.

But in case that truth isn't clear enough, in case it just seems like a high and lofty feel-good thought, John camps out on another point: "God is light; in him there is no darkness." Not only is God light, He is not darkness. So God can't be cold, cruel, unfair, evil, or hurtful. There is no shadow, no wickedness in Him.

But in case we still doubt that truth, John adds another phrase to silence the voices and fears in our hearts that might still be questioning what he has revealed. It's as if John's saying, "I know that God's perfect goodness might seem hard to believe. The hard stuff of your life might seem like evidence stacking up against the goodness of God, but let me add this little phrase in here just in case . . . to remove any ounce of doubt. God is light, yes. There is no darkness in Him, yes. But there is no darkness in Him AT ALL. Zero. Zilch. Nada."

There is no darkness in God. No darkness at all. That means He can't be cruel—it's impossible for Him to be cruel, actually, because cruelty doesn't live in Him. Darkness doesn't dwell in Him at all—not a drop, not a dash, not a smidge. The only decisions God can make are good decisions. The only decisions He can make are wise decisions. Purely good is all God can be—all of the time.

I'll be honest—it seems incredibly cruel for a sweet girl to be driving home this morning brokenhearted and empty-handed while yesterday it seemed like her deepest dreams were about to come true.

But God's Word declares, it clearly declares, that even in the midst of all of the junk that goes on here, He is good. That in the muck and mess of this world, in the broken hearts and the broken dreams and the brokenness, there is a foundation of goodness that is working in it all. He is working in it all. Even if we don't understand how He's working, and even when we can't see, God is working for good. His goodness is the song that is always playing in our lives, even if the pain of life is drowning it out.

And I'm clinging to that truth. I'm clinging hard.

So, Jesus, we're still dreaming. I'm not giving up. We're not giving up. I'll be honest, from where I sit it seems like there are some things that are off the tracks today. It looks like some darkness got mixed in with Your light. But You promise—YOU PROMISE—that You are good. And even though reality today looks exactly like the opposite of that, I'm throwing my heart on You. I'm putting all of my eggs in Your basket. So whether it's the brokenness of this world that's showing its ugly, vile face today, or if it's Satan and his cronies doing their dirtiest, or if it's You working for good in some way that I can't understand, I'm not going to start to distrust You.

You are good. Period. You are always good. And You promise that even the vilest, yuckiest, most heart-breaking situations that You are working for good. There is nothing in my life or in the life of my friends that You can't—and aren't—using for good. I am throwing the weight of my heart on that reality. All the chips of my heart and my life are on You.

And Jesus, I know You see our hearts. We long for You do to some big things in our lives. We know You love us. And even though we can't see how Your light is working for good right now, we trust Your timing. We will wait until You move. Our eyes, and our hopes and dreams, are on You.