By Rachel Greening
Our hike was not proceeding as planned.
We had started with a wagon to cart our three young children, but with the many bumps on our path, it was becoming a much louder journey than we anticipated. The wagon’s wheels gave a loud thump with every misplaced stone they drove over, and since it was a nature trail, that meant it was thumping with every step we took.
The racket we were causing made our hike into nature almost pointless; the wildlife scurried away at the sound of our approach. We decided to temporarily abandon the wagon. While I was pulling it a little way off the path beside a large boulder, I was brought to a halt by an unlikely find. Out of the side of the heavy, cold rock was growing a cluster of soft purple violets.
The location of such a beautiful bloom surprised me. They were the only flowers around that I could see, and they were not sprouting from the idyllic forest floor of soil and moss. Instead, they bloomed from a small, dark crevice on the side of a seemingly inhospitable rock.
The Spirit’s whisper came to me at that moment: Beautiful things can grow in dark places.
It sent a tingling to the back of my neck for I, too, was in a dark place.
In the Dark of the Deep
My dark place was the ongoing struggle to control my chronic illness. The continual battle with my health was hammering my heart — along with my expectations — into shards. I was looking ahead to the many possible outcomes of my current flare-up and how it would change both my everyday routine and my long-term reality. It wasn’t a new experience, just more arduous to endure than last time, and I was caught up in a tornado of possible scenarios, fearing the unknown of my future and desperately groping for solid ground.
The darkness felt like a tomb; my illness, my doom. I couldn't see my way back to life.
Just like the violets, I was powerless to manufacture my fate. I was subject to the elements. And also like the violets, I was being cultivated by a God whose light overpowers the dark.
The Light of the World
It was in the darkness of my physical sorrow that I learned to treasure my greatest source of light.
I couldn’t deny the truths of the past: I remembered the way my Lord brought me through my illness the last time, and the time before that, and well, every time since my initial diagnosis. I couldn't deny the nearness of God’s grace, or — how precious His Word had become to me in my deepest moments of pain. I couldn’t deny the flood of gratitude and praise that washed over me when I came through the storm whole, even when I thought that my current flare-up would certainly break me this time.
Yes, I was in the dark again. But because I had Jesus, the darkness would never be all-consuming.
John 8:12 records Jesus saying to His listeners: “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life." Jesus has overcome the darkness through His life, death, and resurrection, giving us amnesty with the Father. Through belief in Him, we are sealed by the promised Holy Spirit and secure as children of God (Ephesians 1:13).
Yet, while we still linger on earth, we will continue to find ourselves in dark places. God uses hardship in the life of a Christian to till the soil of their heart. He removes the weeds and dead leaves of sin to plant the seeds of his righteousness: “Break up your unplowed ground. It is time to seek the Lord until he comes and sends righteousness on you like rain.” (Hosea 10:12b).
Calling on the Lord invites him to draw near and do the resurrecting work only He can do. He salvages the cinders of our lives — our tattered relationships, broken bodies, or harmful choices — to create something wonderful and new. And often that “something wonderful” is a clearer view of His majesty.
Our creator God is still creating. And what He creates is always good.
God Continues to Create
As we proceeded with our hike, my steps felt lighter. I still didn’t know if or when healing would come, but that no longer seemed to matter. God was with me — He was involved and tending my life with the greatest care and attention. He was creating something good and beautiful, perceptible only by eyes fixed on Him. His light broke through the blinding darkness and gave me new hope and strength for the road ahead. He did all of that by simply giving me Himself.
Like those tiny violets growing in harsh conditions, we can flourish in the goodness of God despite our circumstances. Only His light can produce new life.
The creator God wants to grow something beautiful — just let His light shine in.
Bio: Rachel Greening writes stories for kids and words of hope for grown-ups. She is the author of the picture book “If My Oak Tree Could Speak” and has written for various publications such as Risen Motherhood, The Gospel Coalition, Just Between Us Magazine, and Truly Magazine. Rachel belongs to Hope Bible Church in Oakville, ON, where she learns and serves with her family. Connect by visiting rachelgreeningwrites.com.
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