Have you ever considered the comfort of the walls around you or the floor beneath your feet?

Recently, I considered this as I turned off the light switch and walked down the dark hallway towards my bedroom. My hands slid against the wall as I felt my way along. My feet pressed against the floor as I moved my body towards the door. For some reason the darkness felt denser and my eyes struggled to adjust to the dim glow of the night-light. As I waited for my eyes to adjust my senses further highlighted the floor and the walls. As my mind moved in this direction of thought I felt comforted in the awareness of the familiar shapes and structures of my home. Darkness is scary. It has no shape or form. It feels endless without even the faintest source of light.

As I contemplated what brought me comfort or security my mind fell onto the concept of hell. I shuddered as I imagined a place where all that I knew was stripped away from me. I felt the absence of my families presence, and the absence of my dogs little furry bodies at my feet. I felt dread as I imagined the distance of God from the cries of my soul. I imagined a place where I was truly alone.

So with these contemplations in mind I went to work one evening. In my patient assignment I found myself caring for a transient patient who had a recent stroke. I went in to feed him as I was told that he ate too fast and needed assistance to slow down. He’s seemed an odd character. He looked at me from his peripheral vision with rarely an onward glance. I casually asked him about his vision. He told me that he could see just fine.

As he ate he talked. He told me stories that brought him to tears and randomly asked me for dope. The twisted humour in his voice lightened the mood as he asked me. I reminded him that I was his nurse and there was no dope around. “I know” he would reply forming his words in a long drawn out response.

He told me stories about being homeless that were dark and haunting. I had some awareness of the dangers of being homeless because of my sister who had lived a transient life, but as I listened to him I realized that even darkness can stretch itself even farther. He told me things I had not even thought about until now. “It’s dangerous being homeless” he said as he explained that wild animals would come and attack them in the night. He described the screams of a cat that sounded like the echo of a woman crying in the darkness. Multiple times I attempted to divert his train of thought. My antics were ineffective.

His stories turned from past events to darker spiritual tones. He told me how he had seen the devil in the mirror. His voice cracked and shuddered as he held back the tears. The description of the devil he gave was frightening. He told me that he had also been to outer darkness. “There are no walls or a floor there” he said as he turned to look at me quoting my own contemplations I had previously in the day. He used the same words. As I placed some dirty towels into the linen hamper I stopped and really looked at him. Until this moment I had been half heartedly listening as I finished my nursing care tasks. I found his wording to be unnerving. He continued to talk about his experiences in outer darkness. He talked as though he was still there. He described a distant triangle of light above him. In this triangle he saw the man that he could be. He saw himself dressed in light. He reached up towards the ceiling as though to touch that man and cried out in exclamation “that is the man that I could never be!”

I found compassion towards him as he wept. I tried to tell him that Jesus was the light and that he actually saves. That no matter what we could have ever done there was, and is forgiveness in him. As I said this he told me that he knew Jesus. At first he had not known who the man was beside him. He said he was quiet and had alway been there. In hind site I wish I would have asked him at what point he realized it was Jesus or how did he even know? Instead I chose to listen, and the patient relationship ended as I completed his care.

So as I continue on my journey my soul looks for the light. All around are strategically placed sources of light. The radiant sunshine lights up the day, the moon glows over the snow, the twinkling stars beautify the night, northern lights dip down overhead like the hem of a garment, bioluminescent creatures swim amidst the darkest of seas, and fireflies scatter themselves amongst southern state trees. Even in my home chosen fixtures with LED light bulbs illuminate the kitchen table around me. Christmas lights brighten the tree. It is not hard to find the light of the sun on a sunny day, nor a warm fires glow easy to miss. Light draws me to itself. Possibly it is more difficult to find the light in the darkness, especially when my eyes are closed by fear.

If hell is to be in the future then the moments I am in, even if they are the absolute worst, are far better than all that lays ahead. This alarms me and triggers a rise of gratefulness within me that because of Jesus the hope of heaven awaits. So I choose to open the eyes of my heart and seek him while he is yet to be found. As breath expands my lungs, with my heart beating in time, I open my eyes and seek out the light so that I may be the person that He wants me to be. Although that person is way above my reach, I know that Jesus is everything I need Him to be.

Jesus says “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

Light must be found for light brings hope, and guides us on our way.