...because you can't see.
When you are in the dark:
You grope around.
You can’t find things.
You get afraid.
You can’t work, you can’t eat, you can’t do anything.
Even if everything you need is there, you can’t find it. (Because) You can’t see in the dark.
I have chased shadows. I have gone back to things I thought I had left behind. I have done things I didn’t want to do, and knew were wrong. A lot of times that is easier than to do what is right. And then the light goes out.
Most of my life I have claimed to be a follower of Jesus. I know what He taught, I know about God’s love, I know the meaning of grace. Yet time after time I have been a living testament to Jesus’ contrasting of light with darkness. I have turned to my selfishness and to my addictions and thought it felt so good and I was so important. And then the light goes out. It becomes so so dark.
Once you go back to the dark, you keep stumbling. (Because) You can’t see!
But Jesus leaves the light on. His love and forgiveness keeps shining. I am thankful He never gives up, He kept after me through the darkness, He still loved me.
I am concerned that we let people just go stumble and fall. Sometimes, we need to reach our hand into the darkness and pull them out. Or at least let our arm be there if they need something to grab onto. Just like Jesus has done for us. A million times.
When I was first writing this, the arrangement was pretty frenetic. I wanted there to be a sense of urgency in the music. I didn’t want things to resolve too much, because the conclusion is not necessarily a sure thing. It became just four instruments with their own little place and melody. I wanted each one to feel like a plea.
The holiday season is approaching, so of course the next tune will be depressing. Stay tuned!