A Light in Dark Places

One of the pleasures – yes, I said it: pleasures – of a lengthy daily commute is the opportunity to listen to audiobooks without spending weeks on each one. Sure, I probably could read with eyes faster than I listen, but the drive is time that I wouldn’t have spent reading with my eyes anyway and I consider it at least a good use of time, if not a reasonable trade-off. My current “read” is The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, and this week I finished out The Two Towers. It’s been a number of years since I watched the movies and I don’t recall having ever completely read the trilogy, so there’s a distinct possibility that I’m simply forgetful. As far as I recollect though, the most disturbing part of all 3 books is there in the final few chapters of The Two Towers. I will take on orcs, balrogs, and even Sauron himself, but I want nothing – and I don’t think I can possibly inject enough emphasis into that word – absolutely nothing to do with Shelob. That’s literally a nightmare for me. We’ll put a pin in that though while we rewind to the first book, and return to the horrors of the dark in a few minutes.

At this point, more than 65 years after The Fellowship of the Ring‘s initial publication date and 20 years after the first of Peter Jackson’s movies was released, I would imagine that everyone is at least aware of the overall plot of LOTR. If needed however, Britannica has a rather concise summary without excessive spoilers. Near the end of the first book, The Fellowship of the Ring, the elf queen Galadriel gives Frodo a vial containing the light of an elven star, and as she does so, she says to him, “…..May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out”. Perhaps she knew just how dark it would be in the lands through which he would eventually walk; I doubt Frodo, even at that point in his journey, had even a remotely accurate guess. At any rate, it was much later, not until he was in the pitch dark, pursued by evil, that he recalled the gift he had received, and drawing out the light he had at hand, warded off Shelob. Even via the spoken word, without the benefit of visuals of any kind – or perhaps especially without visuals – even the words on a page, the image of that light rending the darkness is powerful and striking. A light in dark places indeed.

What is our light in dark places? Psalm 119:105 has come to mind often over the last couple weeks since I first heard Galadriel’s words: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” When we can’t see the path forward, when our steps are darkened, when enemies and evil assail, where is our help? Psalm 121:2 answers: “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 91 reminds us that the dark is meaningless to the Lord; He sees all, and is there beside us. These aren’t just platitudes, nice and comfortable words tritely trotted out at the first hint of shadow to provide a polite pat of encouragement on the back. They are the real and true light of hope cutting through the blackness that surrounds. In the night of depression, grief, and trauma, I have known the hope found in the Scriptures, a faint glimmer at first that brightens into a sure and steadfast flame. 

Like Frodo and his vial of starlight, we too have a light at hand, ready for us to call upon it in time of need, and again like Frodo, we often forget about it when circumstances are to our liking. Regardless of current circumstances, whether the shadows are long and deep or barely a blot upon the horizon, may we remember and rely upon the steadfast Word of the Lord.