Afraid Of The Dark

Lately, we've had trouble getting Routt to sleep in his own room. I started to wonder if maybe we had spoiled him by letting him sleep in ours for too long.

Last night, I sat just outside his bedroom as he stared into the darkness.
“Dad,” he whispered, “look!”
“What is it, buddy?”
“It’s the shadow of a scary monster.”

I remembered being little and having to turn off the lights downstairs before bed. I had to summon all the courage I had just to go down there alone at night. And once the lights were off, I would sprint back to the stairs as fast as I could. I was convinced that with every step I took, I was just out of reach of some lurking hand—some spiritual or physical presence waiting in the shadows to harm me.

As those memories played through my mind, I felt two strong emotions. First, I wanted to comfort Routt and reassure him there was nothing to fear. But second, I wanted to validate his fear. I understood what it was like to be afraid of the dark.

No matter what I said to him, though, Routt was convinced something dangerous was hiding there.

But I wasn’t afraid at all—because I knew exactly what was, and what wasn’t, in the dark corners of his room.

Sometimes you’re afraid too. And I know there’s probably nothing I could say that would take those fears away.

But imagine this:
Imagine the Lord is with you.

He wouldn’t be afraid of the dark, would He?

Bless You 

Pastor