The Dawn

When I walk through life and arrive in places like October 31st through November 11th, God shows up sort of like a big golden flashlight (i'm so cheesy).

OK, listen. I don't like comparing God's Light to the light of a flashlight. Because when I think of flashlights, I see an ugly black-ribbed piece of plastic with a tiny lightbulb, that emits only enough light to expose one's own shadow lurking in the dark.

And that's liable to scare someone like me into a premature heart attack.

But this flashlight, God's flashlight is not for exposing shadows. I'm not even the one holding it or directing the light in the direction I think I need to walk. It's just a bright light that's going ahead of me, whispering follow Me, and we'll make it out of here.

And as we walk further, it sort of looks the moon in the darkened sky might look. And it's cold and my feet hurt, and I'm thirsty. And very hungry. And I cry to God but it seems like He doesn't hear me at all. And I look around, and no one's there. Just me, a ground full of rocks and broken glass, and a big moon up ahead.

So I walk in the only direction I can. It's like a siren calling me, and I almost can't control my body anymore. Because if I could, i'd probably be on the ground half-dead.

And soon I can see the dawn rising there ahead of me. With the most beautiful colors streaking across the sky. Colors I've never known before. I can't even remember how I got here. It doesn't matter. My feet don't hurt anymore. What are feet? Like my body doesn't exist and nothing else matters; All there is, is LIGHT. And I can't stand the glorious beauty, and before I realize what's next, I'm on my knees in awe, praising the One who painted it.

And it's here I realize that I'd never have gotten to see it if I hadn't gone through the night without sleeping.