The sky turned black, awash with shadow. The winds swirled with menacing vigor. Darkness crept over the land as an evil spirit seemed to rise, suppressing all that was good. The good was swept away in the growing darkness, giving up to it.
Deep within, the spirit felt downcast, defeated, lost, and alone. When all seems lost, there is nowhere to turn. A walk back home, heavy and solemn, to stay tucked away, not knowing how to continue. The days ahead looked grim at best, oppressive most likely. A new sense of normal would have to abide; one that gave a feeling of being utterly alone.
Each hour grew darker as the shadow covered land and soul. The darkest night of the soul.
Yet a tiny ounce of clarity emerged from somewhere, as through a minuscule crack one barely sees. A question. A pondering. What if....
What if this wasn't the end of the story? What if the darkness present was only a momentary affliction, set in an eternal timeline?
The speck of clarity drives the heart forward to expand out of oneself to beyond the scope of a single life, to the big picture of the Story.
An image fills the imagination of a big, beautiful book; one where we are all collected in the Story. We are all part of it, and it is much bigger than we can see from the perspective of our page. There are pages to come that have not been filled. The Author isn't finished yet.
This chapter will end soon.
Three days of unknown. Jesus killed. Hope lost in the darkness.
And yet...
The story was not finished. In fact, it was just beginning. Could we have ever dared to hope?
Wait for the next page.
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