~John Piper, When the Darkness Will Not Lift
It's ever so subtle, this darkness. It drifts like a fog and settles in the nooks and crannies of my soul, the places my flesh has forced out hope and grace. It becomes a nuisance, then it becomes an issue, and then it consumes. I don't know how else to describe it, except that I hate it.
Dark nights of the soul often come for extended visits. They are no strangers and they are no friends, but I know them well. One would think that with such knowledge would come wisdom, but that is simply not my case, true to form.
Though I speak of darkness, for that's what it feels, what has darkness over light? There is a light inside of me. It extinguishes the darkness. It breaks through revealing my darkness as a lie. This light is not of my own, so that I may not boast, true to form. This light is a gift. This light is a salvation, not from a temporal fog, but from a darkness of potentially horrifying permanence.
When darkness descends, my Light exposes, my Light shines, my Light comes into the darkness, and the the darkness has not overcome it.
