An Essay by Donna Bucher

Or Story of the Light That Overcomes Darkness in Six Parts

“The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” – John 1:5, ESV

I.

Darkness. The stuff of nightmares, specters, and haunting memories. The simple pronunciation of the word provokes fear. This day was no different. Though brilliant sun shone outside, I felt the icy fingers of darkness begin gripping my heart.

Dreading the familiar sensation, I braced myself for its entombing effect. Stepping outside, I lifted my face to the sun, eyes closed, as my soul implored the light to dispel the darkness creeping over it. A gallant attempt at distraction, but no amount of sunlight ever overcame the shroud of darkness that stole my very breath.

At times darkness came by stealth, other times I knew its arrival was imminent, but never once did it come by invitation.

Inside, I knew darkness held me captive; outside no one knew. On this day, as darkness tightened its grip on my heart, the piercing pain forced the tears from my eyes in unhindered cascades. I watched my daughter as she walked away and never once glanced back.

They came, every word, every nuance, all the memories; I wanted them to stop. But then that was the way of the darkness: cold, cruel, unrelenting, and so very empty.

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II.

Nothing prepares a parent for the sudden severing of a relationship with their child. Even today, when I reflect on the events culminating in my daughter leaving our home, the pieces fail to fall into place. Left with more questions than answers, my heart splintered by degrees over the course of three long years.

Though cruel, life demands continuation. Birthdays, holidays, even in the mundane meals, her absence spoke louder than her voice ever did. But worse than the physical absence was the absence of any knowledge of her whereabouts or if she was dead or alive.

From my deepest sorrow, I cried out to God but not as one who anticipated an answer.

Deceived by the darkness, I believed my failures deafened God’s ear towards me. Beyond the heartrending incident with my daughter, each subsequent circumstance of suffering drove me deeper into the darkness I both despised and dreaded.

In my mind, I equated suffering with darkness. As a young girl, I faced hardship, abuse, loss, and trauma alone. Vivid memories of claustrophobic nights of loneliness and cruel taunts still attend my unguarded moments years later.

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III.

Even after I became a Christian, walking with the Lord, suffering felt like a heavy shroud of darkness. A garment I never chose but wore out of compulsion, suffocating under the weight of it.

The combined factors of my haunted past and fear of the unrelenting darkness which filled my life in the form of suffering contributed to my perspective of suffering as punishment. I felt stigmatized because I considered myself an outcast, and therefore I distanced myself from others as much as they distanced themselves from me.

Voices from the past reproached me with professions of guilt, shame, failure, and worthlessness. Spoken in darkness, magnified their impact and solidified their legitimacy. Regardless of my efforts at dragging them into the light, the cloak of darkness never fully released its grip long enough to view them any other way.

The darkness isolated me, interrogated me, and stood as my inexorable Accuser, further instilling the reality of my complete helplessness. Of all the manifestations of the darkness, helplessness was the most pervasive, fueling anxiety as I faced the reality of my inability to change anything.

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IV.

My confused approach to suffering as punishment precluded my understanding of God, his love, and his good purposes for suffering. Though in a relationship with God, trauma from my past spun a story of neglect, abuse, and failure.

Initially drawn to God’s promise of forgiveness and love (John 3:16; Rom. 5:8), I experienced the acceptance, peace, and freedom from guilt I so desired. Yet, before long, disillusionment surfaced when the darkness slowly engulfed my thoughts with its lies.

Foolishly believing when I came to God that my suffering was over, I came face to face with the truth of its ceaselessness. Instead of understanding now, as a child of God, my suffering held redemptive value (1 Pet. 4:12-13; Rom. 5:3-5), my deceived mind only saw more punishment and abandonment.

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V.

Though a Christian for many years, the day my daughter left, as the darkness imprisoned me once more, I felt forsaken by God. No stranger to the experience of suffering, my insufficient comprehension of its refining purpose held me hostage to false assumptions.

Remaining bound to conclusions based upon fear and lies reinforced emotional abandonment. Maintaining my view of suffering as punishment magnified my self-perception of worthlessness. A powerless observer, I stood by while the darkness churned up the tumultuous past, rendering me ill-equipped to face the impending hardship.

Longing for rescue, but at the same time believing myself unworthy, my life portrayed the contradiction housed in my heart. I easily grasped coming to Christ as Savior; He promised an exchange, my sins for his forgiveness. Freedom from my painful past was finally possible in his offer of salvation. All those years ago I made that exchange, except I still sat shackled by my past, defined by my sin, and alone in my suffering.

Though a child of God, I lived as a hired servant. Guilt, shame, and assigned worthlessness kept me from intimacy with God, stifling spiritual and personal growth. Lies deceived me into believing if He ever truly saw me, He would leave like everyone else.

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VI.

I struggled believing He heard my prayers or if his promises of rescue in the Bible applied to me. But those were the lies of the darkness. Lies that bound me in despair until, one day, the truth of his unfailing love began penetrating my heart (Jer. 31:3).

My spiritual director, relentless in her gentle guidance filled with scripture after scripture of God’s lovingkindness drew me closer to a changed perspective. Each time we met, she offered Bible breadcrumbs to my timid heart.

After time, scripture came alive with promises of a God so in love with me, nothing I could do would make Him love me less (Isa. 54:10, Lam. 3:22). A light creeped across my troubled soul, and for the first time, I felt more than a glimmer of hope.

As a light in the distance on a moonless country road, his love invited me closer, illuminating my way forward. Gradually at first, then incrementally, this Light stepped into my darkness. Disparate from all other light overcome by darkness, this Light came from within, and the darkness could not overcome it.

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From the Dungeon of Despair to Unchained Hope

Psalm At Night

Lean Not