Saturday, April 07, 2007

Darkness at Noon

Luke 23:44-47

44 It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, 45 while the sun's light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46 Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this, he breathed his last. 47 When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, "Certainly this man was innocent."

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Have you lived long enough to know that sometimes it’s dark at noon? There is no light. Not even a flicker. It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the day, when there should be brightness. It’s like the sun’s light has failed. And the whole land is covered with complete darkness as far as your eye can see. Have you lived long enough to experience life like that? Dark. Despair. Death. Desolation.

It leaves you weeping. And, if you don’t actually die, you wish you were dead.

I was thinking about this on Good Friday. There was a moment in history about 2,000 years ago, when it was the darkest moment the world has ever known. Look at this text from the Gospel of Luke. “The sun’s light failed” it says. And after Jesus cries out in a loud voice, He, the Son of God -- the One in whom people had believed and put their hope – this only Son of God breathes His last.

There is no light. No hope. It’s noon officially, but there is darkness, and not just in this little part of the world. No. Darkness has come over the whole land, or “all the earth” as some translations have it. There is nowhere to go to find light. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. If the sun’s light itself has failed, no mere mortal can repair it. There is no burning ember still struggling to throw light. No bold struggle to survive.

The sun’s light has failed. The Son of God was dead.

Where was God?

He was silently, even stealthily, but surely at work.

This is what struck me when I meditated on these verses on Good Friday. Look carefully at the text.

At this point in the Scripture, there is no resurrection, no light.

But, even as, incredibly, the sun’s light fails, unseen by anyone enveloped in the darkness, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two.” At that very moment of utter desolation, the Holy of Holies was suddenly made visible. The barrier between God and human beings is “torn” – simply wrecked. At the very moment of darkness and death, God is working to reconcile us to Himself. At that very moment of darkness and death, God’s unfathomable, unconditional love towards us reigns supreme.

At this point in the Scripture, there is no resurrection, no angels declaring Good News.

But, even as Jesus cries out, with all His strength gone, and his last breath about to go, He says, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." This is an act of complete trust on the part of our Lord. With hardly a breath left, Jesus commits what’s left of Him after all He has endured – His spirit – to His Father. It is a declaration of the relationship that endures no matter what. Even in that very moment of darkness and despair, God is still His Father, and is still trustworthy.

At this point in the Scripture, there is no resurrection, no astounding miracle.

But, even as Jesus breathed His last, a centurion watching the terrible events unfolding has His eyes opened in the darkness, and He praises God and sees the truth, “Certainly, this man was innocent.”

I don’t know about you, but I take comfort in this. I mean, of course, we know the rest of the story. Death is overcome. Jesus is raised from the dead by God. The light overcomes the darkness. But, what I find telling, and especially comforting, is that even at this point in the story of Jesus Christ, in His darkest, most utterly despairing moment, where there is only weeping and injustice and sin and abandonment, God is there.

Darkness during the day. Failure of the light. Crying in agony. Death on the cross. All real. All overwhelming. All encompassing.

But still God is working…

There is reconciliation, trust, praise and truth to be found in that very moment.

And love. Unconditional. Unfathomable. Redeeming. In that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

As believers, shouldn’t we follow our Lord’s example of complete trust? In the moments of our lives when there is no light, no hope, but only tears and despair, can we still affirm our relationship with God? Can we call out through our tears to our Father in heaven and commit the last remaining piece of us in His hands? (If we do, it could provide tremendous witness to unbelievers, as it did to the centurion.)

Could we allow ourselves to believe that, even though we don’t see it, though there is no light even at high noon, God is working His purpose out? Can we still bring ourselves to count on His love? Is there anything in our past experience with Him that has taught us the truth about His love?

Look again at what God is accomplishing in the world’s darkest hours. Look again at Jesus Christ dying on the cross. It is the ultimate demonstration of love and trust.

So, even when there is no light at all, and when there is no resurrection in sight, say along with Jesus, oh weary, weary soul, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.”

You might be astounded by what God accomplishes next.

Amen.