Wielders of Ancient Power



Dark and light.


Chaos and order.


Life and death.


At the end of the day, we’re all working with same elements. No matter who we are, or what medium we’re working in, we’re all called to the same place. Right to that murky line where the dark meets the light, and to press into it with every ounce of our lives.


But we want to know exactly what we’re supposed to do when we get there. And we want it to be just right. To make perfect sense.


You can ask yourself a million questions.


Or, you can go. You can work. You can walk.


When the voice calls, you can answer and press towards that line the best you know how.


It’s not hard to find leftover pieces, if you’re looking. The hard part is to try and find a way to bring them all together. It’s not always pretty. Most of the time it isn’t. But we just need each one of these pieces to let a little light through.


We’re all working with life and death


Chaos and order.


Dark and light.


In the Bible God says that, “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”


That’s talking about Jesus. The Messiah. The Son of God. But if this Jesus also dwells in us, then I suppose those words are also talking about us. The fragments. The leftovers.


The scraps that just might let a little light through.


I don’t think we’re far away. Whatever time is left, it isn’t long. An Hour is coming down this line of time that cannot be denied.


The tension feels like it’s about to snap. We all sense it. This rope that has been tightening since the dawn of time. I hear the creak. The fibers are unraveling.


Across the world today, I hear cries rising like a great river. Cries of the suffering and the poor, the orphans and the refugees, the prisoners and the slaves. But that’s not all. I hear the cries of kings just the same. I hear the cries of all who long for the Father. Cries rising up over the centuries, cries flooding a river that cannot be contained by the banks manufactured by governments and social programs and best intentions.


The earth is shaking under the weight of our desperation to see Him, to be returned into the hands of the One who was, and is, and is to come.


Those who live in darkness clamor for the promise of light.


Light.


Light we cannot hide any longer.


Light we cannot delay because we aren’t quite right. Or we’re chipped and bent and twisted. Or we’re flawed and fractured.


Light that is ready to pass through us into the darkness.


Light we bear because we are made in His image.


We’re almost there. A new dawn is on the horizon.


We spend too much time telling ourselves that we’re waiting on Him to come back.


Because this becomes a great comfort. An invitation to live in comfort. To spend our lives building kingdoms that will not be there tomorrow. To hide our treasures in storehouses that will dissolve.


A life of waiting, looking at the horizon, waiting on that rope to snap. Waiting on that Hour to arrive.


But maybe while we’re waiting on Him, He’s waiting on us.


To work. To walk. To let a little light through.